His own loss
Gandalf had intended on taking Shadowfax across the sea when he left Middle Earth. But something happened that made him unable to…
Chapter 1 - Parting
“But I promised him that we would never again part in this life!”
“Olórin, can a promise made in changing times be sure to endure until the end? Times have changed, and an age is ending. Many have died before.”
“Nothing will take his place. He was mine; one of the only things that I ever had here that was my own.”
“Olórin, before you were sent, were you not taught that there would be sorrow and pain in the world that you are in now?”
Olórin, or more well known as Mithrandir or Gandalf, lowered his eyes. He knew that the answer to all of those questions was yes.
“Olórin, he is not immortal. He is only a horse, and you know this. He will live as long as it is appointed to him. Remember what I have told you.”
Then the dream faded. Gandalf opened his eyes. The room was slowly losing the night’s darkness and the moon faded. The wizard sighed as he remembered. Aragorn’s coronation had already taken place, and three days earlier he had ridden into Rohan from the north, where he had been looking at familiar sights in Middle Earth for perhaps, the last time. Then he decided to come to the Golden Hall to see Éomer, the king of Rohan. When he got there, Shadowfax started acting strange. When he was put into the stables at Rohan, he did not want t o leave Gandalf’s side. He struggled slightly, and the wizard had to calm him down with some soft words. Then he went grudgingly to the stable.
Later that evening, Gandalf went to visit Shadowfax. The horse seemed very restless and uneasy. He was breathing heavily and panting. Gandalf was worried about him, so he asked one of the Rohirrim about it. He came and looked at Shadowfax. Then he looked gravely at Gandalf. “This horse is very old… although he is one of the Mhearas, and he has lived a long life, he will not live forever. He is dying of old age.”
Gandalf got out of bed and looked out the window. The sun was slowly rising. He sighed again. He knew that his dream had not been a normal dream, but one sent to him by the Valar. They had indeed taught him much before he came to Middle Earth so prepare for the tasks that would be placed upon him. He knew that his tasks were completed, and that soon he would go across the sea to Valinor with the others that had been chosen to come as well. He was hoping to be able to take Shadowfax, as well. He tried to shrug off the possibility that the horse might not make it to Grey Havens...
A day later, Gandalf went into the stable to see Shadowfax. The white horse was lying down, and when the wizard came in he looked up at him with sad eyes. Gandalf knelt down beside him and stroked his mane. Shadowfax nuzzled against his hand. Then the wizard got up and swiftly left the stable.
The next day, the man of Rohan that he had talked to four days earlier found Gandalf in his room.
“Your horse is…”
Gandalf held up his hand to keep him from speaking further. The solemn look on the man’s face told him all he needed to know, but it was not what he wanted to hear.
“Thank you,” he murmured. “You may leave me now.”
The Rohir nodded and left the room.
Gandalf’s first impulse was to go to the stable and see if the man’s words were true, but he knew that it would be no use. Shadowfax had died. He was no longer the White Rider. Shadowfax was gone. Gandalf sat down on the edge of his bed and stared at the floor. He remembered the time when he had first met Shadowfax. He was wild and untamed. And after that the horse would only allow Gandalf to ride on him. He was the swiftest horse in all of the land, swifter than the steeds of the Nazgûl, and even the Elves’ horses. But now he was no more.
Gandalf felt a lump in his throat and a weight like lead in his chest. Then, after a moment, he covered his face with his hands and submitted to grief.
Middle Earth had already faded into the eastern horizon. Small waves gently slapped the side of the ship as it slowly made its way across the sea to Valinor. The sun had already risen, and it shown brightly upon the water. The passengers on the ship had been traveling for four days, and they would soon be reaching the Undying Lands.
Gandalf stood on the deck of the ship, which both hands on the rail. As he looked into the distant eastern horizon, he was still thinking about all of the people and places that he had left behind in Middle Earth. Thoughts of Shadowfax, however, were pushed to the back of his mind. Then gentle waves caught his gaze, and he remembered the parting at Grey Havens. His mind strayed back to the war of the ring, the forming of the fellowship, the beginning of the third age…
Then Shadowfax came to his mind. The wizard sighed sadly. But what was past was past…
Just then, Frodo walked over to where Gandalf was standing.
“Lady Galadriel says that we should be there by this time tomorrow.”
Gandalf nodded absent-mindedly. Frodo looked worriedly at him.
“Gandalf, are you alright?”
Again, Gandalf nodded absent-mindedly.
“You’re thinking about Shadowfax, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
Frodo nodded. “He was a good horse. I’m sorry, Gandalf.”
“I should really be thinking of other things, but yes, he was a good horse.”
He sighed again.
The hobbit and the wizard sat in silence and watched the setting sun as it slowly went down on the horizon.
Frodo awoke to his first full day at Valinor. The sun was already at its solstice, even though Frodo slept for the same length of time that he did back in the Shire… Before the ring came to me, he thought. He looked around in the room that he had slept in. The bed was low, just the way hobbits liked them. The blanket was a light blue, and it was very thin since it was never very cold in Valinor. The room was of medium size, with beautiful hangings of flowers and trees decorating the colored stone walls. The floor was of polished white stone, and the light brown ceiling was crossed with cherry colored beams. There was a window set into the wall that was covered with clear glass with white engraved outlines of flowers.
Frodo then went out of the room and saw that there was another doorway right next to door of his room. The oaken door was open, and he saw that it looked almost the same as his own room. He then saw that Bilbo’s jacket was lying on the bed.
“That must be Bilbo’s room!” he thought.
Then he turned into the main room of the house. It was very large, and in one corner there was a large wooden table with delectable-looking fruits on it. And sitting at it were Galadriel, Gandalf, Elrond and Bilbo.
“Good morning, Frodo my lad!” said Bilbo as soon as he saw him.
Frodo realized that his uncle looked younger than he had looked the day before. His hair did not seem as white, he seemed to have less wrinkles and he looked less bent.
Then he looked and saw that a change had also seemed to come over the others. Galadriel looked even younger than she had looked before they left Middle Earth. Elrond seemed less grave, and even looked happy. “Or,” thought Frodo to himself, “Perhaps he seems to have the feeling of relief.” Then Frodo looked at Gandalf. He looked to Frodo like he had been refreshed, and that any burden that he had ever had was gone from him.
It was a joyful sight for Frodo; for ever since the hobbit had returned to the Shire after the destruction of the Ring, he had felt ill at ease, weary, and restless. Now he felt like he had never felt before. He did not even feel hungry or thirsty for the fruit that was laid out upon the table. He smiled, for the fruit did not appear to have been touched by his other companions.
“Good morning, Frodo,” said Gandalf. “I hope you had a good rest on your first night in Valinor.” Frodo nodded. “I had more of a rest than I ever had before.” Galadriel smiled. “Come, then. Let us walk outside for a time.”
The five companions walked outside along the white shores of the sea. The sun sparkled on the water, and there were no clouds in the sky. Gandalf turned his gaze to the horizon. He looked harder as he saw what looked like a white cloud in the shape of a horse. But it seemed to be coming closer, even though Gandalf was standing still. It became more lifelike as it steadily came nearer. Then, to his shock and surprise, Gandalf saw that it was…
“Shadowfax!” The wizard shook his head in disbelief. It could not be! Shadowfax had died… or had he?
Galadriel, seeing his confusion, went over to him.
“Olórin, the bond that you had with your horse in Middle Earth could not be equaled. The Valar have known that. They have brought him back for you so you could enjoy in full the land of Valinor.”
Then Gandalf, without another word, mounted upon Shadowfax. Then, he patted the horse’s neck and spoke some soft words to him. Shadowfax whinnied and galloped off, as swift as a deer and as graceful as a swan. The White Rider had returned.
~Fin
Please comment!
)
I'm not obsessed, honest, not obsessed, not obsessed.... I LOVE LOTR!!!!!!!!! Okay, maybe I am obsessed.
