Chapter One: A Mysterious Pulsing
White Light
Frodo lay
awake on his bed, staring listlessly at the ceiling. It has been too
long since I have done something worthwhile with my time, he mused. What
I need is a good reunion with my old friends...
As if on
cue, white, pulsing light enveloped the small room, causing Frodo to bolt
upright. Within moments, he was forced to shield his eyes from the
invading light.
When the
light faded, the hobbit was nowhere to be seen.
------------------------------------------
Sam
whistled softly to himself as he pulled mushrooms from his garden, carefully
dusting off the dirt before placing the tasty treats into a basket. I
can’t wait to taste Rosie’s mushroom soup, he thought. I know even
Mr. Frodo will eat well to-night!
Without
warning, white, pulsing light overwhelmed the hobbit’s sight. His last
thought before the light overcame him was, Poor
Rosie’s going to be mighty upset when I don’t return with these mushrooms!
------------------------------------------
Merry
settled contentedly down in his favorite chair by the roaring fireplace in his
rooms at Brandy Hall. This is what I was meant for, he thought
contentedly. Sitting by the fireplace in a comfy
chair with my pipe after a good, large meal.
The hobbit
was mildly perturbed when a pulsing white light invaded his comfort, forcing
him to close his eyes.
A moment
later, the large, comfortable chair sat empty, a still-smoldering pipe on its
seat.
------------------------------------------
Pippin
grinned as he sat down at the base of a large tree. “I do so love sitting
out under the stars,” he said to himself. “Especially
on a warm summer’s night such as tonight. The only thing that
could possibly improve on this would be good company.”
The white
light that invaded his senses was not exactly the company the hobbit had been
expecting.
------------------------------------------
Aragorn
sighed and laid his pen down on the table. Had I known the amount of
paperwork involved in a kingship, I might have left well enough alone, he
mused sarcastically. But then you wouldn’t have Arwen, the
practical side of his brain reminded him. With another sigh, he picked up
his pen once more, determined to finish drafting the proclamation he was
working on before he retired for the night.
His pen had
not yet touched the parchment’s surface when a pulsing light drew his attention
- and he himself - elsewhere.
------------------------------------------
Legolas let
a merry laugh slip from his mouth as he leapt vertically into one of the great
trees of Mirkwood. It is good to be climbing these trees once more,
he reflected. Halting at the top of the tree on a branch that appeared
too slender to support him, he scanned the forest with his keen gaze.
The light
that enveloped him took him completely off guard. Not even his immortal
gaze could penetrate the white blanket that suddenly surrounded him.
------------------------------------------
Gimli
nodded to himself as he made his way from the mining tunnel. This vein
of silver is larger than any found here in centuries, he noted with
satisfaction. I must ensure its discoverer is given a double share of
the rewards.
The dwarf
jumped in surprise as a pulsing light - a rarity in the deep mines - swept
across his vision. Before he could discover the source of the light, it
overwhelmed him. A moment later, the blackness of the tunnel returned,
though no trace of the dwarf was visible.
------------------------------------------
Gandalf the
White galloped Shadowfax across the plains of Rohan at speeds no ordinary horse
could achieve. I look forward to seeing those hobbits again, he
thought, even that fool of a Took.
The wizard
actually started when the white, pulsing light enveloped him. Not even he
had foreseen its coming. The last sound that reached his ears before the
light cut off his senses was a piercing whinny from his galloping steed.
------------------------------------------
The white
light faded gradually from view, revealing eight figures.
“Where am
I?”
The
question rang out from eight startled mouths, even as eight hands flew to their
weapons - whether or not said weapons were actually at their sides.
“That is
the question of the hour,” a soft, decidedly female voice answered.
As one, the
eight living members of the Fellowship of the Ring wheeled to view the woman
who spoke. She was clothed in a gray robe that fell softly to the ground,
while a hood partially concealed her features.
“Who are
you?” Legolas asked cautiously.
“My name is
not important,” the gray-clad woman replied. “What is
important are the questions you must answer.”
“What
questions? What is happening here?” Aragorn spoke for the group.
“I have
brought you here to answer a series of questions,” the woman replied.
“Once you have completed them, you may return to your homes.”
Abruptly,
in a flash of now-familiar white light, eight writing desks appeared.
Each of them bore two sheets of parchment, a pen, and an inkwell. Three
of them were clearly meant for the three tall members of the group, while the
other five were far shorter, obviously destined for the use of the hobbits and
the dwarf.
When the
eight companions turned back to demand answers of the gray-robed woman, they
found that she had vanished into thin air.
“I suppose
there’s nothing to be done,” Sam said calmly. “We might as well answer
her questions.” With a shrug, he seated himself at one of the shorter
desks and began scanning the parchment before him.
One by one,
the others followed suit. Soon, the only sound was the scratching of
quill on paper.
Back to Table of Contents
Back to Library
