FORBIDDEN PLANET
Author: Lia
E-mail: vreader40@yahoo.com
Archive: Anybody who wants to post this just let me know.
Rating: PG-13 for this chapter.
Timeline: shortly after ANH for Star Wars; for LOTR, some time during the year
2980 of the Third Age in Middle Earth - Aragorn is 49 and already knows about
his heritage but hadn't committed to Arwen yet.
Disclaimer: Luke, Han and the whole Star Wars Universe belongs to George Lucas.
Lord of the Rings, the Hobbit and the Silmarillion and all their characters
belong to Professor Tolkien. Pity.
Feedback: Yes, you can send me feedback to the e-mail above and make me happy!
PROLOGUE
It was dark. Muffled sounds - voices, footsteps. He tried to move and speak but his body refused to obey his brain.
Darkness became oppressive, heavy, making it difficult to breath. He was drowning. Something foul and hateful had its long clawed tendrils tightly wrapped around him, draining his very life force to the core.
I'm dying…strangely, the thought didn't scare him. But then, he remembered. He couldn't die! Han and Chewie were counting on him, he had to find help!
Please help… my friends… my friend's hurt… needs a medic…
Luke fought against the suffocating darkness with all his might, trying desperately to break free, to see, to speak, to move.
Suddenly a cool hand touched his forehead and it was like being washed in… light. He could breath again, he was alive!
Somebody was talking to him but he couldn't understand. Where was he? What had happened? His body was sore and aching all over. Blue eyes fluttered open.
At first he could only see a couple of blurred, colorful spots dancing around. Slowly they steadied and took more definite shapes.
He was in a large bedroom, exquistely decorated. There was a man with long, black hair looking at him. That was it, that was the one who was talking in that strange language… Luke couldn't get a word but the intonation was unmistakable - the man was making questions, probably asking his name, where he was from, the usual.
"My name is Luke. I'm…" he stopped abruptly as realization dawned on him. He knew that his name was Luke. He knew that he had something very important to do. Han, Chewie, yes, they were his friends, they were in danger, he needed to help them, but… where were they? What danger was it that he had to save them from?
He couldn't remember. He had no recollection at all.
* * *
"Mithrandir! Mithrandir! Mae govannen, Mithrandir!" the sing-song voices echoed from the trees and bushes as the man in gray made his way to Rivendell. He was walking quite fast and light for an elderly man, his big pointy hat bouncing - but never falling - on his head at each brisk step.
"Hanon le, my dear elves." Mithrandir responded hurriedly. "Forgive me if I don't stop and chat but my heart tells me I'm greatly needed at Lord Elrond's house…"
"Indeed you are!" said a voice that, although beautiful and pleasant, couldn't belong to an Elf.
"Ah, Estel! There your are…" Mithrandir stopped before a tall, dark man who appeared in middle of the road as by some kind of magic trick.
"Ada is waiting for us. I brought horses." the man whistled and two brown steeds emerged from the bushes.
"That's certainly better than walk. You are growing smart, my young friend." Mithrandir raised a thick eyebrow and grinned. "Now, why don't you tell me what happened while we ride to the house?"