7 Fourth Age: Cold Dreams

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7 Fourth Age: Cold Dreams; [ Open ]
Topic Started: 12 Jan 2009, 04:00 PM (429 Views)
Deleted User	12 Jan 2009, 04:00 PM Post #1
Deleted User	The little Hobbit lay under a thick woolen blanket, shivering despite in the southern heat. He tossed and turned in his half-sleep. Sweat beaded on his pale brow. His eyes moved relentlessly beneath his lids; it was a furtive movement, almost as if he dreamed he was running from a great hulking beast. Milo Brandybuck dreamed of a man—a dark shape in an even darker night. The Magician who had kidnapped and bewitched his friend on Weathertop had come for him! The man—if a figure with fangs and claws could be a man—had come for him too! It mattered not which way Milo ran, he could not outpace the Magician. His terrified flight from Bywater to Hobbiton ended abruptly in the Party Field. Cornered and exhausted, Milo shrank back from the looming Magician. The man began chanting dark incantations, and Milo shuddered to hear the foul words. All around him, the Shire was withering. The grass turned brown and cracked beneath his feet; the river flowed black and tainted everything it touched; and the beautiful mallorn Mayor Samwise had planted released its golden leaves. “No … no … not again,” Milo murmured in his sleep. The Shire was being destroyed again! No, it could not happen! Tears mingled with the sweat on Milo’s cheeks. He wept for the Shire and the memories he had of imprisonment in Michel Delving. It was all the same as before – the Big Folk spoiling the Shire with their magic. Even in delirious sleep, Milo had a notion he would not see the Shire again – that this ruined image would be his last memory of his homeland. “No!” Milo wailed. His cry roused him from sleep. Gasping for breath, the agony of seeing the Shire destroyed again still fresh, Milo rolled over to turn away from the window and sunlight beyond. Another terrified scream ripped through his throat. The Magician was here, lurking in the corner of the room! “Help! Help me! By all the Valar, help me!” Milo jerked away from the man, his limbs thrashing wildly until he crashed to the floor tangled in the sterile white blankets. Too afraid to glance at the Magician again, the small Hobbit curled himself into a ball within the sheets, shuddering and weeping for his lost Shire and his lost life. Outside, a seagull shrieked and the spring sunshine bathed the Pelennor in a golden glow. Within the Houses of Healing, only a Hobbit’s screams were out of place. Trapped by the battle raging inside his head, Milo Brandybuck would never know the Magician was hundreds of leagues away and the corner of his room was occupied only by a wooden barrel.
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Deleted User	15 Jan 2009, 04:53 PM Post #2
Deleted User	When the little hobbit had fallen, Eowyn had immediately gotten a healer and gotten the hobbit back to his room. She was worried, and for a moment she felt foolish, as some of the worry was selfish. Was this what was to become of her? But she was really more worried about her newfound friend. He had to be alright. He had to get back home and assure everyone that he was fine, and tell the others of the outside world. As they got him back to his room, Eowyn felt exhaustion take over her. The healer suggested kindly to the Princess of Ithilien that she return to her room and get some sleep as well. She wished to stay with Milo, but keeping herself standing, and even sitting when she chose, was just such a hard chore. So taking the advice of the healer, she headed to her room. Sleep came swiftly, but with it dreams. Nightmares might be the better term. She was standing in the Golden Halls in Edoras. Her Uncle was sitting on the throne, though he was pale and slouched as he had been when Wormtongue was there. Before him was a table with a parchment and quill. Wormtongue was crouch at his position beside the King, urging him to sign. . . something. "Uncle have you gone mad! You can not do this!" The voice of her brother broke the silence of the hall. "She does not want this and I will not stand for it!" What were they all talking about? More importantly, who? Looking around she noticed that they were the only ones in the Hall. Could it be possible that her brother was talking about her? But what about? Taking steps forward she noticed the writing on the paper to be something of a contract. As she read her blood ran cold and fear clutched at her heart. It was a marriage contract. . "Uncle. . ." Her voice had an uncharacteristic tremble in it. "You will be well taken care of . . . Wormtongue is an honorable man." The King's once strong and caring voice, only caring to the three that were in front of him. Waking up with a start, Eowyn took in the surroundings almost expecting to see the slimy face that had haunted her dreams long before this. Taking a deep breath, trying to calm her breathing, she realized it was the nightmare that she had been waiting for. Not only was it horrible! But it had been sad, for she had not seen her Uncle for many years. . since his passing. The silence in the Houses was broken with a scream. Jumping from her bed, she ran to the little hobbits room. As she got there, so did a healer. "Bring me a basin of water and a rag please." Though she was tired, not really having gotten much sleep because of the dream, he was obviously having a dream too, and she wanted him to be sure that he had a friend here when he work up. . . If he woke up.
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Deleted User	16 Jan 2009, 05:05 PM Post #3
Deleted User	Milo’s eyes slipped shut again, and beneath the blankets, his shivering slowed and then stopped, as if something in his dreams was calming him down. The White Towers weren’t far in the distance now. Milo could see them just over the horizon, just as he could hear the roar of the sea along the coast. There would be a ship at the Gray Havens, Milo was very sure of it. He redoubled his pace, yet he could walk no further than where he had been. “Milo,” Merrick called, running down the path towards her brother. “No, you can’t go. Not yet. It isn’t time. Sit and talk for awhile.” Reluctantly, the Hobbit laid down his walking stick and took a seat next to his sister on the dewy grass. She had an apple and a bit of taffy to share with him. “Elevenses!” Milo exclaimed. “I had forgotten. Men don’t eat all that much, which leaves a Hobbit very hungry while travelling.” Merrick glanced at him disapprovingly, but Milo didn’t think it was because he had been on adventures. His sister had heard the same stories Bilbo had told, and she’d once felt the same desire to see the world. “Things are happening in Middle-earth, Milo. You’re a part of them whether you want to believe it or not. The Magician—” Milo choked and sputtered on the taffy. “No! No, I don’t want to talk about the Magician! That was almost a year ago. It doesn’t matter anymore. Besides, what would it matter if I told everything I know? I don’t have any influence.” “No?” Merrick asked, an eyebrow raised. “I’m fairly certain the Princess of Ithilien would listen to you, and the King of Gondor would listen to her.” “Eowyn,” he said, pondering the idea. “Yes, I should tell her. But I’m so far from Gondor now.” “Not as far as you might think,” Merrick quipped. Milo began to ask what she meant, but she was already gone. She had left another two apples. The Hobbit decided he would stay by this road for a little longer and finish the snack his sister had brought to him. OOC: I think this format is a little confusing, but I couldn't find a better way to post it. Italic passages are in Milo’s dreams. Normal text he is saying and doing aloud.
Deleted User


Deleted User	20 Jan 2009, 08:20 PM Post #4
Deleted User	It was hard to believe that not that long ago they had both been outside enjoying what they could of the day. Even knowing that death was more than likely on the horizan, the little hobbit had been up beat. Well, not as up beat as she was used to seeing them, but he wasn't down and depressed. In this dark time, it had been nice to make a friend. But now as she sat here and watched said friend, it was hard to see him like this. The dream that she had fallen into was one that she had almost had to force herself awake from. But it seemed that the little hobbit was having no such luck. She could make up words. . He was taking about food. A small forced smile came to her face. The hobbits Merry and Pippin went on about food alot, espically Pippin. And then there was something about a Magician? But she heard her name come from his sleeping lips and she nodded. "Milo. . I"m right here. . You can open your eyes and tell me whatever you want." Uncharacteristic fear clutched at her heart. She was a former Shieldmaiden of Rohan, now Princess of Ithilien. . Fear was not something that came easy to her. But in this dark hour she wondered how long it would be until she would be like this. . Laying in constant nightmare on the bed. Already she was begining to tire, even just sitting in the chair.
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Deleted User	22 Jan 2009, 03:19 PM Post #5
Deleted User	"Milo. . I"m right here. . You can open your eyes and tell me whatever you want." The Hobbit’s eyes snapped open. Twilight was spreading along the horizon, and the rain-soaked grass was chilly against his back. The apples Merrick had left were still on the ground beside him. Milo sat up, blinking at the face that stood over him. A smile crept across his lips. “Eowyn! What are you doing in Eriador? Surely you’re needed in Gondor or in Rohan.” The little Hobbit craned his neck to look at the Princess of Ithilien, but the sun was at her back. She was cast in a full halo of brilliant light. He understood, then, why she was called the White Lady of Rohan. “Will you sit, my Lady? I have only a little refreshment, but I will gladly share with you.” It seemed to Milo that there something he had forgotten, like the nagging feeling that followed him around all day when he forgot about tea with Myrtle. While he sliced the apples and laid them out on a plate for himself and Eowyn, he tried very hard to recall what he might have forgotten. A very odd thing occurred to him: that he’d forgotten to open his eyes. But that was just nonsense. How could he see the beautiful rolling hills of Eriador if his eyes were closed? “Tell you? Oh, yes, I do have something to tell you! It is a long story, and I think we won’t have enough of a meal to get through it all. Perhaps at the Gray Havens the Elves will have food. That is where I’m going, the Gray Havens. Would you walk with me there, Eowyn? I have the strangest notion that we will go there together and leave Middle-earth forever.” The words tasted bittersweet. He did not wish to leave his family, his friends, or his life. But beyond the Sundering Sea, there was beauty no Hobbit could imagine, or so he’d been told long ago. And Bilbo would be there, perhaps to share more stories of great adventures with Milo. Though the idea of leaving made him sad, it also filled him with great hope.
Deleted User


Deleted User	26 Jan 2009, 05:51 AM Post #6
Deleted User	"I don't understand Milo. . We are in Gondor. We're in the Houses of Healing. . " He seemed like he was talking to her, and yet he seemed like he was miles away from here. This was part of the horrid disease, the one that would kill him. . . kill them both if no cure was found. "I can't sit Milo, because I'm already sitting. You're laying in your bed, in some kind of a dream. Please Milo, you have to wake up." The Gray Havens?! Stories had been told through out the land of Rohan and she had even heard some from Gondor once the Queen Arwen showed up. Surely Milo couldn't mean. . And there was no way that she would be able to go somewhere like that. . "Milo you aren't leaving Middle Earth, neither of us are. . You're going to pull through this," She had come out of the chair that she had been in and was now kneeling by the bed. "Please Milo. . You will come out of this. Lord Aragorn is finding a cure as we speek. He will bring us out of this." The move to the floor must have been to swift though and the Princess of Ithilien swayed a little bit as one of the Healers came in. "Come now M'Lady, you are exhausted and there is naught that you can do here. You must take care of yourself. Please come to your room and rest some." The Healer was more of demanding it than giving the woman a choice. Pulling Eowyn up by her elbow, the Healer led her back to her room and lay her onto the bed. "Now you just rest M'Lady. Everything is going to work out."
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Deleted User	27 Jan 2009, 02:06 PM Post #7
Deleted User	Vertigo struck Milo like a brick in the gut. He had only turned his head, and the world had spun out of focus. What had been the rolling hills of western Eriador had morphed into a blur of white. It felt as if minstrels were playing a song, but skipping from one crescendo to the next without regard for the flow of the music. When the world settled again, Milo found himself standing in a shining city of white cliffs. Homes lined the rock face, and gulls soared over the summit. Many vine-tangled archways led to a wooden dock, and in the harbor waited a gray ship with a prow like a swan. Milo knew where he was, though he’d never been here before. This was the Gray Havens, the destination he had meant to come to, but was surprised to have reached. “Eowyn?” he asked, “Eowyn, are you coming with me?” But the Lady was nowhere to be found. She had gone as suddenly as the hills of Eriador. Milo was alone here. And he thought, truly, that every person to have stood on this spot was alone. He felt a compulsion to stay on the dock and never board the ship, yet a gently nudging dread that told him it would be better to step onto the ship willingly. “She is not here, Master Brandybuck,” a young Healer said, taking a seat beside the Hobbit’s bed. “Let’s try to give you lunch.” The Healer lifted a spoonful of hot soup not often consumed in Gondor. The burning scent of uraes rose from the steam, and the Healer smiled hopefully as she tipped the liquid into Milo’s mouth and it trickled down his throat. How long Milo had stood here, he wasn’t sure. It felt like days, but it might have been minutes. The time had come to make his decision. He would board the ship and go into the West where an unknown fate awaited mortals. Milo would do that willingly, with all the courage and nobility any Hobbit could have. He had taken no more than three steps down the dock when he heard a second set of pattering footfalls. Milo turned to see Merrick skipping down the docks towards him, a smile on her face and her hand outstretched. “You can’t go that way, Milo. One day, you’ll be back here and the decision will be easier to make. But for now, it’s time to return. Come and take my hand. I’ll show you the way home.” Merrick’s hand burned, like a bald flame consuming him from the inside out. He sensed something forgotten stirring to life again. It pressed hard against his lungs, and the first breath was like surfacing from a deep water. Milo’s eyes opened to a white stone room with a window facing east. He saw the vast forest of Ithilien, and beyond, the Mountains of Shadow looming black over the twilight. He registered that he was alive when Thul-in-Gyrth should have already claimed his life, and he remembered so vividly the cold dreams of his delirium. Milo Brandybuck had awoken to a world that would never look the same to him. The perils of life outside the Shire had become real. Every step he took now would be forever colored by the image of himself standing alone at the Gray Havens, as every Hobbit must be at the end of his days. And he would always know he had the courage to conquer death. When the Healer came back into the room to see to the Hobbit, she found him sitting up in his bed, whole and healthy in ways even she could not see. There was no smile on his face, but some new pride in his eye. Before she could even speak, Milo prompted her for information. “Where is Lady Eowyn? I dreamt she disappeared, and I dearly hope that does not mean …” “The Princess of Ithilien is resting in her room.” Milo threw off his covers and hopped down from the oversized bed in two swift movements. His legs felt horribly weak, and his head spun. The Healer rushed forward to shuffle him back into bed, but Milo resisted. “I will go to see the Lady, who I suspect came to see me. You may accompany me if you so wish, but I will not be kept from returning a favor. On the way, you may tell me about this miracle of my waking when surely I should have died.” The Hobbit ducked below the Healer’s reach and pattered out of the room, into the hallway, and down towards the wing where Lady Eowyn was resting. He ignored all protestations from the young woman, bent on seeing the Lady who had befriended him some days ago, though he could not remember how many or what had happened since then.
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Deleted User	27 Jan 2009, 02:59 PM Post #8
Deleted User	The Master of Buckland had made great haste to Minas Tirith as soon as he had received his dear cousin’s last Will and Testament. The letter had stated that Milo may not be alive when Merry received it, but Merry had not let that be a hindrance and he had made travel arrangements the same evening as the messenger had delivered the note. He had indeed heard about the plague, but the thought that his own cousin should have been taken ill by it had not occurred to him. It had been a great grief and a great shock to learn that disaster had hit somebody that close to him and he now feared that others of his friends might also fall ill. There had not been any reports on the King being diseased, though, and Merry hoped that the same was the case for Éowyn and all of the others. He had barely slept during his journey and he had ridden the pony hart; the poor creature had been completely exhausted on the arrival at the King’s City, as had Merry, nonetheless he went straight to the Houses of Healing, rushing through the over-crowded corridors. Memories awoke in him as his feet pattered over the white stones that formed the floor of the hallways. He himself had been a patient here once, being attended by King Aragorn himself after he had taken part in the slaying of the Witch-King of Angmar. Unconsciously, he touched his sword arm as these thoughts went through his head. The arm still felt numb at times. He found the atmosphere in the Houses of Healing to be rather surprising. He had expected to see nothing but bowed heads and defeated looks, but on the contrary, Healers and volunteers were running around with smiles painted on their faces, many of the carrying soup bowls in their hands. An unfamiliar smell hung in the air – an exotic scent that made the nostrils burn a little. The tiny Hobbit – though regarded as tall in Hobbit standards – was barely noticed as he wandered through the hallway. He tried to ask for help a couple of times, but everybody seemed to be busy with something. Therefore, he decided to find his cousin by himself. His steps were swift, explaining why he did not manage to slow down as he turned a corner, resulting in him bumping straight into his dear cousin. As can only be expected, the look on Merry’s face told about nothing but utter surprise when he recognised the other Hobbit whom he had expected to find hanging by a thread. “Milo!” was the first thing that he exclaimed after grasping what was going on and his face lit up in a bright smile as he spoke the name.
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Deleted User	28 Jan 2009, 05:06 PM Post #9
Deleted User	“M-Merry!” Milo cried, caught off guard by his cousin’s unexpected appearance. “I’m not still dreaming, am I? Only I saw Merrick often enough in my delirium to make me cautious of seeing any family here in Gondor.” Milo turned to the Healer, but she had gone. Perhaps she was tired of chasing a Hobbit through the Houses of Healing, but Milo thought it was more likely he’d given her the slip. Humans, the poor things, could never keep track of a Hobbit when the Hobbit did not want to be kept track of. “Well, I shall have to have faith that you are real and I am cured,” Milo went on. “This isn’t like any of dreams, so I’ll find that easy enough to do.” Milo could guess why Merry might have come. He had sent his last Will and Testament to Merry, and that seemed long ago. The Healers had commented to him, more than once, that Hobbits were extraordinary creatures. Milo had assumed, naturally in his opinion, it was Frodo and Sam who they remembered. But it occurred to him now that, maybe, they had meant him too. Surely, he should have faced death weeks ago, not mere minutes. Seeing Merry had sidetracked Milo from his mission, to get to Eowyn and check on her health. There was not a moment to lose, not with this illness. Milo knew that better than anyone. He was filled with dread that it might be too late for him to see his newfound friend and assure her of hope. “I’m sure you’ll want an explanation, Merry, and I’ll give one to you. But you’ll have to walk with me to get it. I have made a friend in Minas Tirith, who gave me comfort when I first arrived in the city. I wish to return the favor now I am healed.” Milo was keenly aware of what he must tell Merry, and how difficult it would be for his cousin to hear. Eowyn was a dearer friend to Merry, and he wished with all his heart he did not have to be the one to give this news. “It is the Lady Eowyn, Merry. She has been in these Houses of Healing with me, but I have been asleep so long I do not know how she is now. I have been told she is alive still, and that means there is hope!” Eowyn’s room was only three doors down. Milo led the way to the threshold. He did not feel right barging into the quarters of a Lady so brave and beautiful, so he only peered in through the shadows.
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Deleted User	28 Jan 2009, 11:56 PM Post #10
Deleted User	A laughter full of relief escaped Merry’s throat as he embraced his cousin, padding him gently on the back, minding not to be too hard on him so soon after his recovery. “Surely, you are not dreaming, dear cousin!” He padded his back one last time before letting go, straightening himself up again. “I am so delighted to see you again – alive and well.” This was certainly an unexpected, yet very pleasant, surprise. He could not – nor would he like to – imagine the perils that this relative of his had gone through. He had been told about the horrors of Thûl-in-Gyrth – about the fever and the delirium that followed and it sounded as if Milo had been experiencing those symptoms as well since he spoke of seeing both Merrick and other family members who had all been back home in Buckland throughout his disease. It was astonishing that Milo had survived for so long, he thought, but then again; Hobbits were quite amazing as Frodo had proved when he was wounded by the Morgul-blade on Weathertop. Merry nodded his acceptance when Milo had told him about his desire to go and see this new friend that he had made. Furthermore, he was very interested in learning more about the cure that had apparently been found and the prospect of his cousin telling more about it was certainly a motivating factor. The curiosity of Hobbits was well-known and Merry did not differ much from the rest of his kind when it came to that. In addition to this, he had a grand urge to gain new knowledge and this seemed like a great opportunity. However, the curiosity in his eyes slowly faded to be replaced by a confused and puzzled look as Milo told him what he knew about the Princess of Ithilien’s condition. “Lady Éowyn ... ?” The words were spoken over a held-back breath and they were barely audible. His face showed a slight frown as he followed his cousin to the Princess’ door. “Has she been taken ill?” The joy caused by one friend’s recovery had swiftly been replaced by the sorrow caused by another’s disease and he now felt a strange kind of emptiness filling him up inside. Lady Éowyn and he had been close friends almost from the beginning – tied closely together by strong bonds of friendship created during their dangerous journey together. They had both had their difficulties finding their proper places in Rohan, him being just a Hobbit and her being only a woman - they had had a certain understanding of one another. He remembered the time when the Princess, disguised as Dernhelm, had invited him to ride with her into war on her horse, even though King Théoden had denied them both to take part in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. He was about to smile when this memory occurred, but then stopped himself, remembering where he was. He looked down and waited behind his cousin as Milo peered into the Princess' chamber.
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