Gandalf thought to himself as he rode his way to Minas Tirith in Gondor. As he rode over the crest of the hill, he saw the whole Pelennor fields before him, the grass brown in the heat. There was a sudden rumble of thunder, and he looked to the East.
There, over the Mountains of Shadow, Gandalf could sense a storm was brewing. There was black smoke appearing from Mount Doom enveloping the whole Mordor sky. He must move quickly. There wasn't any time to waste.
Approaching the huge iron and bronze gates of Gondor, he felt something, something he had not felt for a long time indeed. Dismissing the thought, Gandalf sat on his horse looking up at the seven levels of the ancient city.
With a huge grunt, the gates slowly started to part. Everyone in the city was whispering.
"Look, it's the Mithrandir!"
"What's he doing here?"
"I don't know!"
"D'you think it's something to do with the steward?"
"Shh. Don't mention it, we'll both get punished!"
The civilian winced as Gandalf dismounted before him. He smiled.
"Take me to your home, and tell me everything."
* * * * *
"It started about two or three months ago, it did."
Gandalf frowned. "What did?"
"Lord Denethor stopped speaking to the people. We hardly ever see him."
"Oh?" grunted Gandalf. "Explain."
"There's a rumour going about the bottom few levels. We reckon it's something to do with the war. You must know about it. Everyone knows. There is menace in the East. Our Rangers are patrolling the paths to the east. They're guarding Osgiliath, the lot. Some say that he even sent his own son out to help."
Gandalf looked surprised. "The rangers are more than capable of taking out roque orcs. Remenants of Mordor, scavengers. They're nothing more."
"But these are, the rangers are dying. Only last week they brought in a whole cart load of bodies..."
Gandalf opened his mouth to speak, but he was cut off.
"... not orc bodies. Bodies of men. The orcs have taken the east side of Osgiliath, and are overrunning Ithellian. And yet Lord Denethor does nothing. He sits up in the throne room doing nothing. Our warriors are dying, we don't have an army!"
"Listen." Gandalf looked sincere. "You musn't spread the word to anyone except trusted friends and family.. A war is brewing. I advise you all to secure your houses. You never know when Mordor spies are about."
"Yes Mithrandir. But, Mithrandir, will you help us? Against evil that is? Gondor is weakening."
"Gondor shall not be weakened as long as you do your duty and protect others beside yourself."
The man smiled for the first time in their conversation. "Thank you Mithrandir. You bring us hope in this dark hour."
Gandalf got up to leave, but asked, "Could you do one more thing for me?"
"Can you take me to where all the old records are kept?"
"Of course. Follow me."
He grabbed a hat and coat and stepped outside. It was dark. Gandalf strode out behind him. He looked over the man's shoulder. "It is only the eleventh hour. A great shadow from the east is covering the land in darkness. It is a sing the enemy is moving."
* * * * *
They reached the door down to the archives. "This is as far as I can take you. I must get back. Good luck with your research Mithrandir."
Gandalf called out behind him as he scurried off. "Remember everything I told you. Not a soul remember!"
He had a feeling someone was looking at him from above. He looked up. The rock protudence in the mountain was right above him. At it's edge a face suddenly disappeared as if it didn't want to be seen.
Pondering the face, Gandalf the Gray stepped into the dark corrider to the archives.
A/N : This took place just before Gandalf reads isildur's account of the ring in Fellowship of the ring. I hope it filled in a few gaps, so remember to R&R, it only takes 30 seconds!!
Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm in no way related to anyone who owns the copyrights to LOTR. No infringement intended. Please R&R!!