Story Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) Title: Forgotten (#1089) Author: Aelinaglar Chapters: 2
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Archive: Tolkien Category: Crossovers Description: Crossover with Ragnarok Online and Lord of the Rings. A Midgard Wizard is visited by Gandalf for a certain purpose. To be the man forgotten in History Books after the War of the Ring, after all he had done to steer the Fellowship on track. Published: 09 Jul 2004 Updated: 10 Jul 2004 Warnings: Minor Cursing Type: Action/adventure Characters: OC; Fellowship; Others Chapter 1 - Arrival in Middle Earth Lord of the Rings Fellowship of the Ring (tm) October 25 of the Third Age in Middle Earth. April 10 of the Month of the Summer Glory in Midgard. An old man walked in Geffen, City of Magic, using his staff as a walking stick. A grey cloak covered his clothes and a pointy hat covered his head. The people didn’t mind him; for it was market day and the Tower was empty, save for a few bookworms, the Tower Guard and teachers getting a good amount of rest before noon. The rest of the populace of Geffen was poring at the stalls. The grey cloaked man walked to the entranceway of Geffen Tower, giving the door wardens a nod and a slight flicker of his long white beard and entered. The door wardens mused over his appearances. He normally appeared every five years, right into the area near the fountain, and after that, straight into the tower, where he stayed for a week or two before vanishing again. Today however, it was only around two years since he appeared. Quite unusual. Gandalf walked into the cool Tower, despite the summer heat, Geffen was always cool. The Istari thought of it as one of the simple spells of the wizards of this place. The Istari walked into one of the libraries, which were bigger than Minas Tirith’s archives and Rivendell’s combined. The tables were made of a smooth wood, commonly found outside the walls of Geffen. One lean man with brown hair sat next to a stack of books; right on top of the books was a small scroll, the man was reading intently from a scroll, quite different from the books in the archives of the Tower, and was absently sipping out of a blue mug filled with tea. Gandalf gave a little smile and approached the man, the man in turn too absorbed in the scroll and murmuring to hear him. Once he came to a halt in front of him, and tapped the head of the man with his staff gently. The man perked, almost dropping the mug of tea in his shock as he stared upward. “Mithrandir?” Gandalf smiled and lifted his staff. “Shinta.” He nodded. “How are you? It’s been five years since I first saw you as a boy.” “It’s always five years. After that, you stay for a few moments and then go right back into thin air.” He shook his head. “Why now? It’s only been two years since then.” Gandalf gave a chuckle. “Well, Shinta my boy, you have a good memory. Are you quite adept now at wielding magic?” The man blinked, soft yellow eyes giving a look of shock. “Well of course I am adept in magic now...” He stopped speaking, and then his eyes flashed with curiosity. “Are you ‘The White’ now?” Gandalf raised an eyebrow, and then whispered into the man’s ear. “Shush, the Enemy may hear. But no, I still am ‘The Grey’” Shinta gave a chuckle, and Gandalf noted that his voice was deeper than when he was a boy, but not so deep as to a bass voice. “Well what are you here for; I can see you’re in a hurry.” Shinta nodded. “What news from Middle Earth?” “I will inform you when we get there.” Gandalf gave a nod. “Have you packed?” Shinta nodded. “I’ll be back later.” He could not shake off the excitement in his voice. A while later Shinta returned, bearing a small bag. “I’m ready Mithrandir.” “Good.” He smiled and murmured a few elvish words. “Iant ia, Yassen anon Imladris~!” His staff briefly shone with light. “Rivendell...” Shinta murmured in awe, before the both of them vanished. ((Iant ia yassen anon Imladris - Bridge void with (a) great door (to) Imladris)) The wizards around the room briefly looked up and then returned to their work. Gandalf smiled as they appeared in Rivendell in the courtyard. “Here we are my boy.” He nodded, looking at Shinta, who was clasping his cloak. The Midgard wizard looked up. “What news Mithrandir?” Gandalf smiled. “Already you learn fast. The situation here is dire. My recount of the events will be long, so we shall walk about while I am telling the tale.” The Midgard Wizard smiled and nodded as the two began to walk towards Frodo’s room. Gandalf told the tale of Frodo’s journey towards Imladris. Once they arrived outside the hobbit’s room, Gandalf turned on the Midgard Wizard. “Shinta, you do know what Hobbits are?” The man nodded, smiling. “I do Mithrandir. It’s just...” He looked around, smiling broadly. “Rivendell is so much beautiful than what you told me...And I can’t wait to meet the elves.” Gandalf gave a chuckle. “My boy, you are almost an elf. You wizards live for how many years?” “Around one thousand Mithrandir. We still look young after one thousand.” Gandalf smiled. “Well then, let us meet Frodo.” Opening the door, Gandalf walked inside first, smiling as the hobbit visibly brightened at the sight of him. “Gandalf!” He smiled, scrambling over the covers and hugging the kneeling Istari. “Frodo, you know who is Losmir, do you not?” When Frodo nodded eagerly and Shinta looked at Gandalf oddly, Gandalf gave a smile and rose, winking at Shinta. The wizard took the cue. ((Losmir – Snow Jewel)) “I am Losmir, pleased to meet you, Frodo son of Drogo.” Losmir or Shinta bowed, Frodo looking at him in awe. “Is it true what Gandalf said? That you can create flames as if from the flames of the dwarves’ forges out of the air?” Losmir looked at Gandalf, giving him a look that said. ‘You told him too much’ and his gaze returned to the Halfling in from of him. “Of course Frodo.” He kneeled in front of Frodo, putting both hands behind his back. When he revealed one closed hand to Frodo, he opened his hand and Frodo smiled broadly as a small flower, made in flames was nestled in the Midgard wizard’s palm. This also brought memories of Sauron’s eye. Frodo gasped and almost fainted; if not the wizard closed his palm quickly and murmured. “Heal.” A rich invigorating feeling rushed through the hobbit as he blinked. Losmir stood up and smiled. “You did that Losmir? It felt so good I forgot what I was remembering...” He smiled weakly as he quickly shook his head. “I forgot that I must introduce myself. I am Frodo, son of Drogo at your service, Losmir.” Frodo gave a bow. The wizard smiled. “No harm had done, Frodo. And I give this to you, to help you when you feel utterly terrible.” He opened his palm again and a small butterfly stood in the Midgard wizard’s palm, a green aura surrounding it. “Keep it close, Frodo.” He put the butterfly on the hobbit’s nose and Frodo smiled and nodded. “I will Losmir.” “Well off to bed with you.” Gandalf smiled as the hobbit was lost beneath the covers of the large bed. The Istari looked at Losmir. “Do you still want to meet the elves, Losmir?” Losmir smiled broadly. “Lead the way Mithrandir!” Gandalf led him to several meeting places of the elves of Imladris, where the Midgard Wizard gave proper greetings to the Firstborn, and the Firstborn in turn came to respect him. For the newcomer certainly knew his elvish and history. He knew that elves were proud, and made no move to shatter their pride. Gandalf smiled as Shinta went off his elvish speaking spree to watch a dark-haired elf near a fountain. “Who is that, Mithrandir?” Gandalf smiled as he saw Elrond. “That, Losmir, is Elrond, the lord of Rivendell and one of the oldest among the Firstborn.” “Elrond, brother of Elros, son of Earendil the Mariner. Husband of the departed Celebrian...” Losmir murmured, looking at the said elf with curiosity. “May I speak with him Mithrandir?” The Midgard wizard turned to the Istari. Gandalf just gave a smile. Eagerly the Midgard wizard approached Elrond, and then gave proper greetings in Elvish while bowing. “Vedui', heru en amin Elrond. Amin Losmir.” ((Vedui', heru en amin Elrond. Amin Losmir. – Greetings, my lord Elrond. I (am) Losmir. )) Elrond gave a slight nod. “Saesa omentien lle, Losmir. Lle ume quel e' lle Eldalie.” ((Saesa omentien lle, Losmir. Lle ume quel e' lle Eldalie - Pleasure meeting you, Losmir. You did well in your(s) Elvish.)) Losmir bowed. “Ta nae amin saesa, heruamin Elrond.” ((Ta nae amin saesa heruamin Elrond – It was my pleasure, my lord Elrond.)) Elrond smiled as he turned to Gandalf. “I trust you taught him yourself, Mithrandir?” Gandalf gave a smile as he lightly tapped the Midgard wizard’s head with his staff. “Down to the accent. This lad here chose to go through formalities with an elf lord.” Losmir rubbed his head where Gandalf struck him, launching Gandalf into a chuckle and Elrond into a slightly wider smile. “Your formalities are a bit too formal. I am Elrond of Rivendell.” Losmir looked so confused then, making Gandalf laugh. Elrond nodded at Gandalf. “I trust you are here for the council?” Gandalf nodded gravely. “Yes. I have bought Losmir for this purpose.” The wizard looked utterly confused. “What council?” ---------------------------------------------- Elrond was there and several others were seated in silence about him. Frodo glanced at the man he knew as Losmir, and took comfort in the fact that he had changed his clothes. The embroidered eyes were beginning to make him feel uncomfortable. The man was now wearing a plain red shirt and black pants and black boots. His new attire looked much like his old one, save for the eyes. Beside Losmir sat Boromir, whom Gandalf described as ‘A man from the south.’ Boromir gazed at Frodo and Bilbo with sudden wonder, while Losmir simply smiled. Boromir then turned to Losmir and then sat back on the chair while Frodo and Bilbo took their seats. The tales were told, all of which Losmir paid great attention to. Elrond nodded at Gandalf as he rose. “From a distant land one of the men in this Council has come. Speak your tale, Losmir, and let all know it.” Losmir stood a bit nervously and cleared his throat. “I am afraid I have no tale to give, for while all these events were happening, I was away in my homeland. I know Mithrandir from my childhood and he has only given me tidings on Frodo Baggins’ flight. For my lacking of a tale, I apologize.” The Midgard wizard sat down once more as Elrond nodded. “Bring forth the Ring, Frodo.” Frodo put the Ring on the stand in the center of the Council, very much relieved. “Who will bear the Ring?” Elrond spoke, looking at them all. No one answered. The noon-bell rang. Still no one spoke. Frodo glanced at the faces, but they were not turned to him. All the Council sat with downcast eyes, as if in deep thought. A great dread fell on him as if he was awaiting the pronouncement of some doom that he had long foreseen and vainly hoped might after all never be spoken. At last with an effort he spoke, and wondered to hear his own words as if some other will was using his own small voice. “I will take the Ring, though I do not know the way.” ------------------------------------------------- The Council area emptied. The hobbits went off to Bilbo’s room for a meeting of their own while Gandalf approached Losmir, who stood at a balcony watching the fast flowing Bruinen flow below. “Losmir, I have a task for you.” Gandalf began. The wizard turned and looked at Gandalf curiously. “You are to ride to Lothlorien and wait for the Fellowship there.” The Midgard wizard looked at the Istari nervously. “I don’t know how to ride a horse Mithrandir.” At this statement, Gandalf had a mischievous flicker in his bright eyes. Losmir had an air of one going to Mordor and die there. --------------------------- “Sweet Eru!” Wham! “For the love of—“ Slam! “Elbereth!” Crash! “Iluvatar!” Skid! “Mithrandiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiir!” Crash! Wham! Slam! Stomp! Gandalf chuckled as he and Aragorn watched Losmir swear every time the horse moved and bucked him off. Aragorn smiled broadly. “He might make it off okay if he just stopped tugging on the reins too hard and stop swearing at the poor elvish horse.” “DEAR ELBERETH!” Whoosh! Aragorn watched as the wizard flew a meter in the air and land perfectly on the saddle again, wincing. The grey horse bucked. He smiled and laughed as Frodo stepped up on the fence which blocked off the corral. The hobbit was laughing. Crash! Splash! Losmir stood up from the water trough and sighed, looking at Gandalf. “This is never going to work Mithrandir.” He murmured, pointing at himself, making his clothes dry off in an instant as he mounted again. Gandalf laughed and replied. “Try imagining that it’s the mount the knight class uses in your homeland!” This time the horse did not buck or kick. Aragorn yelled at the grey horse, laughing after he yelled. “Noro Lim Ararien!” ((Noro lim Ararien – Ride fast Noble Sunlight)) “Dear Sweet Eru Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo—“ The horse complied, galloping around the corral. Aragorn, Gandalf and Frodo laughed. “Daro!” ((Daro – stop)) The horse stopped as Losmir leapt off the saddle and nodded rather meekly. “I think I’m ready Mithrandir. The mount of the knight back home is no different from the mount here.” The wizard swayed slightly. Gandalf winked at a laughing Aragorn. “I’m glad you are a fast learner Losmir. Come. I will discuss detail.” The harassed wizard stepped over the fence and glanced at a snickering Aragorn and a laughing Frodo. The wizard gave a nod as he passed by them. “You just wait till it’s your turn to come to my homeland.” Frodo paled as Losmir gave a smirk and followed the Maia to one of the hallways in Rivendell. Gandalf handed a piece of parchment over to Losmir, who unrolled it and glanced at the map. The Maia pointed at an area near the Misty Mountains. “You will go through the Red Horn Gate and into Lothlorien. If you see any crebain or many hawks, you must go through the Mines of Moria, make sure you leave us a clue if there are any. I’m sure that only one person may escape detection. Seeing as there is no other way through. There is the Pass of Charadhras, but it is near winter, and would not be a reasonable option.” The Maia handed another piece of parchment to the wizard who studied the map of Moria. “I borrowed that from Gloin. Now, you must cross the Bridge of Khazad Dum and from there head to Caras Galadhon and then to Lothlorien. You understand Losmir? I am afraid for you. At all costs you must use your power minimally.” The wizard nodded at the Maia and then spoke. “I will head off today. Just give me supplies and a fast mount.” Gandalf smiled. “Good. Be careful. And give this to the Lady Galadriel. And if Haldir, the March warden doubts you, give him this. Tell him you are a messenger of Elrond and Gandalf. Tell him you came from Dimrill Stair.” “But that would be lying Mithrandir...” Gandalf nodded. “I know. But at all costs this letter must be for the Lady’s eyes only.” Losmir looked at the small envelope and a small stone, noting its importance and nodded. “I will Mithrandir.” A moment later the horse was picked, given the supplies in a saddlebag and the only other problem was... “Too weird.” Losmir murmured as he cast a spell on himself again, changing his clothes in a blink. The outfit he was currently trying on was an Elven Archer’s outfit. “It might itch.” He muttered, sighing and casting another spell. The wizard was now arrayed in the garb of a Ranger of the North, save it was only colored in black tones. “Excellent.” He murmured and finalized the spell, which actually made the clothes appear. When he was trying out the clothes, only a minor illusion covered his clothes. Now, the illusion clothes were solid and his old garb was stashed into one of the saddle bags via teleportation. The wizard nodded to himself and left the room and walked towards the courtyard. Ararien was saddled in the courtyard and the saddlebags were full of supplies as the wizard began to do last minute checks with the horse. Losmir gave a satisfactory nod as he mounted and cantered outside Rivendell towards the Misty Mountains. Chapter 2 - The Misty Mountains Lord of the Rings: Forgotten Please Review Year 3018 of the Third Age, November 8 in Middle Earth. Losmir yawned as he rose from his blanket. The bright sun peeked through the clouds above Hollin. Ararien rose as well and the elvish horse walked over to the wizard and nudged him with his nose. Losmir smiled and reached into his pocket, withdrawing a bright red apple and holding it in his palm. The elvish horse took it gratefully. Yawning as he stood, the wizard snapped his fingers and the ice walls he put up as a security measure vanished, welcoming the morning sun more into the deep hollow shrouded by great bushes of holly. Losmir whistled as he surveyed the area. “This is...” The wizard withdrew a map from his pocket and studied the area in the Misty Mountains. “Hollin, near the Red Horn Gate. Good, no crebain...” The wizard put the map back into his pocket and glanced at the mountains. A black cloud of crebain approached him. “Oh for the love of Eru, when you mention them, they’re here.” He muttered angrily and turned to Ararien. The wizard gave a high pitched whistle as the horse dove into the brush and the wizard hid in a rock nook. The crebain swooped so low that the wizard could see their eyes. Once the crebain were far enough, the wizard scrambled out of the nook and dusted himself off, muttering angrily. He gave a high pitched whistle again and Ararien scrambled out of the brush. The wizard picked up a large boulder and put it in the middle of the clearing and began carving a message in elvish script with his sword which meant: Red Horn being watched, stupid crebain had to come. Losmir Once he finished, the wizard rubbed his hands and saddled Ararien up and began to move towards the West Gate of Moria. Year 3018 of the Third Age, November 10 in Middle Earth. Following the mountains, Losmir began to walk southwards. The mounted wizard wandered over the barren country of red stones. There was no sign of water everywhere or even the sound of it. There was no sign of anything living in the area. Climbing up a knoll, the ever ready rider and a bit tired elvish mount the two saw a deep and narrow channel. It was empty and silent, and hardly a trickle of water ran over the stones of its bed. But on the near side there was a path, much broken and decayed. It wound its way among the ruined walls and paving stones of an ancient highroad. Smiling, the wizard brought out the map and nodded to himself. “We’re going the right way through. We rest here.” Losmir leapt off the saddle and began to set up camp. Losmir set up several ice walls around them as he unrolled his blanket and lay down on it. He closed his eyes and slept. He awoke to the panicked neighing of Ararien. The wizard scrambled up as he tried to analyze the situation. Yellow eyes peered at him from the darkness and howls pierced the air as several slams were heard on his barricade. “Wargs...” He muttered, standing up and going into casting position. * He stood up still and concentrated, emitting a casting aura with the color of Yellow. ((*When a Midgard Wizard casts a spell, he first stands still and then targets his enemy. He then emits a casting aura, a large shaft of light with colors varying from blue, orange or yellow. The casting aura colors depend on the type of Elemental Spell. Ice is blue, Fire Spells are Orange and Lightning is Yellow. Midgard Wizards can cast spells even without a staff. However, this decreases their spells potency. Also, this casting aura can be seen from far away. The more potent the spell, the bigger casting aura.)) “Thunder...” Large black clouds gathered threateningly over the wargs. “Storm!” Electricity surged around the wizard as the thunderbolts began to slam into the wargs directly, shocking them until they died. Drifting out of concentration, he gave a sigh. Ararien had calmed somewhat when the wargs were being shot by thunder. The elvish horse looked at him worriedly and Losmir responded by giving it a rub behind the ears, which Ararien took gladly. Year 3018 of the Third Age, November 10 in Middle Earth, In the House of Elrond. Gandalf looked outside the window opening to a great view of the Misty Mountains with Frodo, enjoying the breeze drifting through. The hobbit had sufficiently recovered from his ordeal and was enjoying a few well earned comforts. Quite suddenly, a shaft of yellow light erupted from somewhere near the Misty Mountains. Frodo Baggins yelped as Gandalf stared at the shaft of light, where dark looking clouds gathered. Quite suddenly, it began to drop thunderbolts. But there was no rain. Gandalf nodded. “Frodo?” Frodo looked at Gandalf, still afraid of the shaft. “Frodo. That was Losmir’s magic.” Gandalf murmured. “It’s called Thunder Storm.” Shaking, Frodo stood up and stared at the shaft, which was quickly fading. “He’s still alive then?” Gandalf smiled. “Aye.” “With that kind of spell, he could take on Sauron on his own!” Frodo murmured, staring at the area where the shaft was. “With that spell? No Frodo. He can take on Sauron on his own. But that is not to be.” Gandalf replied, and then turned to the hobbit. “His spells are most powerful Frodo. He can make snowstorms where there are none. He can make white fire and meteors out of the sky. He can make fires spring from the ground. One of his most powerful spells is one they call ‘Lord of Vermillion’.” Frodo stared at Gandalf in awe. Year 3018 of the Third Age, November 12 in Middle Earth, Night. Losmir stood before the West Gate of Moria, looking at the seemingly innocent slab of mountain. Stepping closer, he felt the wall, and felt the inscriptions. “This is Ithildin. It reflects starlight and moonlight.” He muttered, and then turned at the moon, which suddenly came out of its cloud cloak. “Good. Alrighty...” He muttered, turning to the door, which began to shine. “The Doors of Durin, Lord of Moria, Speak Friend and Enter. I, Narvi made them; Celebrimbor of Hollin drew these signs.” Losmir looked at the door for a moment, and then sighed. “How the hell am I opening this...?” Year 3018 of the Third Age, November 12 in Middle Earth, Night. “Open Sesame.” The doors did not move. “Alakazam.” The doors did not move. “Mazel Tov, Open up.” The doors did not move. “Magic unlock.” The doors did not move. “Abra Kadabra” The doors did not move. “Open.” The doors did not move. “Edro!” ((Edro – Open)) “Bah, it’s useless. Damn door.” Losmir shook a fist at it. Sighing, Losmir sat down it front of it and muttered a few curse words under his breath. He stared at the inscription for a long time. “Of course! Mellon!” ((Mellon – Friend)) The doors opened. The wizard sighed. “What a weird password. Too simple.” He turned to Ararien. “Time to go home.” He said softly as the elvish horse understood. Losmir took all the supplies and removed the leather items on the horse. He then gave its ear one more rub, and then sent the horse away. He sighed, and then turned. But a small pan fell from the supplies and hit the water. The Watcher in the Water stirred. Losmir turned and ducked just in time to avoid the tentacle racing for his face. Alarmed, he set the supplies down and yanked from one bag a small clip. He then stood still as another shaft of yellow erupted from his feet; this shaft was bigger and brighter. “Jupitel...” A ball of lightning and thunder suddenly appeared on top of the Watcher, who was at the moment, blinded by the brightness. “Thunder!” The ball of white lightning and thunder descended on the Watcher. Once it hit, it began to electrocute the Watcher mercilessly. And only when Losmir picked his supplies up and ran safely inside Moria, the ball stopped shocking the Watcher and instead stood guard on the door. As if daring the poor Kraken to try and come. Fortunately, the Kraken retreated, deciding to sleep off the wounds and the smell of Fried Calamari. The ball of lightning and thunder closed the door, and then vanished. ------------------------------------------------------------------ Downloaded from Open Scrolls Archive (https://www.openscrolls.net) on Sun Nov 15, 2026 3:01 am