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A/N: This is the SEQUEL to a Power Rangers fanfiction story named “Echos of Evil” posted on Fanfiction . net. If readers are not familiar with this particular story, the Chronicles of Mithrandos will not make much sense at all, I’m afraid…
“Echos” can be found at: www . fanfiction . net /s/3072831/1/ (just take out all the spaces between the dots to get to it)
Also, this is a slash story, depicting a developing relationship between two men. You have been warned!
Now on to the story…
The Chronicles of
Mithrandos
By Dany
PG-13
Darkness. Silence. Blessed oblivion.
And suddenly it all changed.
Black turned to grey, sounds - subtle in reality but loud to his ears - shattered the silence.
Oh no! Not again!
Mithrandos' eyes flew open, but the rest of his body was slow - too slow - to respond.
No, wait! A feeling - no danger!
Mithrandos blinked a few times, but all he could see were the dark beams of a domed wooden ceiling high above him. Then suddenly something moved in the periphery of his vision. A head came into view. He flinched.
"Milord..."
The cautious voice belonged to a young man with a round, homely face. He was dressed in white, a blessedly familiar tattoo visible just above his brow.
Mithrandos exhaled. He made it! Cam’s plan had worked. He was back in Ithrandar!
May The Light bless you, my friends. Thank you.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no words formed. He cleared his throat. How long had he been asleep?
The stranger spoke for him. "Do not worry, Milord," he said, bending over the edge of the sarcophagus slightly. "It was not danger that awoke you."
Mithrandos finally found his voice. "Wh...What...?"
But the young Guardian was already babbling. "My lord Mithrandos, that I may be a witness to this historical moment is an honor unreckoned, such an honor! My friends will not believe it when I shall tell them..."
Historical moment? The Dark Sorcerer! Could it be...?
The young Guardian's waterfall of words stopped abruptly and he jumped back as Mithrandos scrambled to his knees and leaned over the stone divider to peer into the other half of the sarcophagus.
The sight of the shrunken body and deeply wrinkled face of an ancient man formed a lead weight in his chest. There was no need to check for any respiration in that hull before him.
The spell had held - Luthien had finally expired at the end of his one-thousandth season of life. Mithrandos took a deep breath and the weight in his chest dissolved slowly; it was done, the sorcerer was dead.
The young Guardian had come around the side of the stone crate and was now also peering down onto the dead body of Luthien son of Dasheera, Queen of the Evil Powers.
"When did it happen?" Mithrandos asked without raising his eyes from the white-haired head.
"Just a few minutes ago, Sire," the young man reported eagerly. "All the Guardians on Tower duty have been instructed to be especially watchful lately, for the High Wizards predicted that the Dark Sorcerer's demise was very close at hand, but to have it happen on my watch..."
“What era is this?”
The Guardian blinked. “Ah…this is the era of The Light two hundred and forty-three, Milord Captain.”
Mithrandos did a quick calculation in his head. Yes, the timeline was in accordance to when the High Wizards of his era predicted he would be waking up if all went well. And now that time had finally arrived. His task was completed at last!
And then another thought suddenly set in, one that promptly made the imaginary weight in his chest reappear: His friends - his friends in the other dimension were long gone.
Mithrandos hoped with all his heart that their lives had come to good and peaceful ends. He made a silent vow to assure their immortality in the form of several scrolls in the history lores of Ithrandar. He would have muttered a quick prayer for them, too, but across from him, the Guardian was now resuming his chatter.
"I am the sole Guardian on sentinel duty this morning, so no one knows about your awakening and the sorcerer's demise yet. I was about to report the joyous news to my superiors, but I simply could not leave before assuring myself that you were well. I hope you did not mind…”
Mithrandos gave him a slight smile. “No. I thank you for your thoughtfulness, Brother Guardian.”
The young man blushed at the companionable address, then scrambled to come to the captain’s aid when Mithrandos attempted to stand. The blond warrior swayed for an instant, his equilibrium still slightly off from the long sleep, so he accepted the Guardian’s arm while he stepped out of the sarcophagus. And for the first time he took a closer look at his surroundings; the room with its round stone walls, narrow windows and torches in sconces along the walls was immediately familiar to him and it told him that his one thousand season long journey had ended exactly where it had begun – in the Guardian Tower of the temple of The Light in Ithrandar.
Only about two hundred and fifty years later.
The brief dizziness faded and Mithrandos straightened up, patting his fellow Guardian's shoulder.
"I value your concern for my well-being, Brother, but maybe you should be going now to make your report," he said. "We would not want to keep the exalted High Wizards waiting for...the news."
The Guardian's head bobbed. "Yes, yes, of course." He shot out of the room and was already on the stairway when he must have remembered his manners, for his head appeared back in the doorway a moment later to give the captain a hasty bow. "Please excuse me, Milord."
Then he was gone and Mithrandos exhaled into the sudden stillness, feeling a little guilty.
There really hadn't been a need to send the young man off quite that quickly, but the truth was that Mithrandos wanted a few moments alone. With his thoughts – and with Luthien.
He went down on one bent knee beside the stone crate to gaze upon the sorcerer’s dead body once more, and before long he began to speak softly. "Fare well, Luthien. My bane you were for one thousand seasons, but now my oath is fulfilled and I am free from you at last." Mithrandos paused, swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat when, against his will, his eyes began to burn. "I know there is no use in wondering and feeling sorrow for what could have been, for it never came to be. But what I would not give to be able to change history and have us end our seasons together as I had dreamed so long ago. Yet this magic feat no one can do."
He bowed his head and a single tear escaped his eye, but before more could fall, Mithrandos rose up, squared his shoulders and took a deep breath.
"No more weaknesses," he whispered into the solitude of the chamber.
Through the narrow arched window, the bright rays of the new dawn filtered into the room.
A new day – a new beginning.
And the High Wizards would be here any moment now. There was much to tell.
They looked exactly like Mithrandos remembered his own leaders all those long seasons ago and the blond warrior bit back a smile. Some things never changed.
Dignified, they arranged themselves shoulder to shoulder, then bowed deep from the waist in perfect synchrony. Mithrandos did likewise.
“It is an honor to welcome you back after all these seasons, Milord Captain,” the oldest one of the wizards said while the others mumbled their accord.
“I thank you, Milords Wizards,” Mithrandos replied formally. “However – and forgive me for my boldness – you address me with a title I do not deserve.”
“Ah, but you do. According to historical records, nobility was bestowed upon you by the High Wizards of The Light of the seventh era after your miraculous return from the other dimension,” one of the other wizards said by way of explanation. “Your written account of the heroic deeds of you and your aides in the strange other world is one of the most well-known lores in all of Ithrandar.” The old man apparently interpreted Mithrandos' puzzled look correctly, for he indicated the sarcophagus where the two wrapped scrolls that held Mithrandos' account of the events in California still lay. "Our ancestors took the liberty of copying your tale for reference, but the original scrolls were returned to you afterwards."
“We had hoped that the joyous event of your awakening would take place during our era and our hearts are glad to see it has come to pass,” the third wise man chimed in and another round of bowing followed. Then the three wizards moved towards the sarcophagus to gaze down onto the lifeless husk of what used to be the mighty Dark Sorcerer Luthien.
“Good riddance,” the first wizard mumbled after a moment of silence.
“Yes, it is good to see that the Evil has finally perished,” the oldest wizard agreed. “Too long has this burden been upon us, and upon you,” he said with a pointed gaze at Mithrandos.
“We shall dispose of his remains,” the third old man decreed, but narrowed his eyes under bristled brows when Mithrandos shook his head.
“Forgive me, Milords,” he said gravelly, “but I should like to undertake this final task. Only then shall I feel that my duty has been fulfilled in its entirety.”
This seemed to make sense to the three wise men, for they exchanged only brief glances before they nodded solemnly.
“So it shall be, then,” they declared. “Do with the body as you see fit, Lord Mithrandos, but we pray that you do so soon; for afterwards, you shall once again take your rightful place as exalted Captain of the Guardians of The Light in this temple.”
"I should like that, Milords Wizards. Thank you." Mithrandos bowed, then turned from them and towards his grim task of extricating the Dark Sorcerer from the sarcophagus, carefully wrapping Luthien's black cloak around his corpse. He found the body lighter than he had expected. But then again, the black soul had left the sorcerer and what remained behind was but a shadow of the once most powerful wizard of the Evil Forces of Ithrandar. And shadows did not weigh much.
Quickly and efficiently he covered Luthien’s head with a shawl, then walked towards the middle of the room. The three High Wizards stepped reverently out of his way.
“I shall be returned before mid-day, Milords,” he addressed them and the oldest wizard regarded him with a nod.
“We will await your return here, Lord Guardian, and then we will be able to receive you properly. Ithrandar is eager to welcome its hero.”
Mithrandos smiled, but he could not ignore the tightening in his chest at the word hero. He closed his eyes and summoned his energies. A moment later he was engulfed in bright light before he and the burden in his arms vanished from the room.
Mithrandos had no intentions of delivering Luthien’s body all the way to the mountain. The forest would do just as well. He took off towards the looming woods with a steady gait, his eyes scanning his surroundings all the way, but spotted not a trace of the evil minions of the Dark Forces.
When he reached the edge of the forest he halted for a moment to shift the light burden in his arms, freeing a hand to grasp his Guardian Saber crystal before he plunged ahead and into the gloom of the thicket.
He was not exactly sure where he was going or what he was looking for, navigating on instinct only. Yet after only a few minutes’ walk, he suddenly came to the edge of a small clearing. A large, flat stone lay on the ground before him and he steered right for it, never wondering about the peculiarity of its sudden appearance. The woods were deadly still as he lowered the Dark Sorcerer’s body onto the stone. Not a breath of wind stirred the leaves of the trees and the entire forest seemed utterly abandoned of life. Nevertheless, Mithrandos could feel unseen eyes on him, boring into his back. Clutching his crystal tightly, yet not converting it to sword form, he stepped back and pointedly looked around him. Then he called out in a loud and clear voice.
“I brought you what remains of the son of your queen! Luthien the Dark Sorcerer has perished. His reign of terror has never come to be and will never come to be!"
Mithrandos watched the ominous trees all around the glade for any signs of attack, but only silence reigned.
"Let it be decreed that from now on, I - Mithrandos son of Angaroth, Captain of the Guardians of The Light - shall smite all foul things who dare cross into the peaceful lands under the protection of The Light of Ithrandar. Remain in your burrows and caves of the Western Mountains and peace shall be upheld; but venture into forbidden territory - and face your doom!"
He turned to go when he suddenly remembered one last task that remained to be done. One more time he approached the wrapped body of his former lover and as he stood over him, Mithrandos raised his arm and tore the strip of plaited leather from his wrist, severing the last bond with the man who now firmly belonged to his past. He placed the ripped bracelet on the bundle, let his eyes travel one last time over the wrapped figure, then turned and strode away and out of the clearing.
Hissing and snarling followed him all the way through the forest, but no actual creature or man ever blocked his way and he reached the edge of the woods unscathed. He was only a few feet away from the wooded realm of Evil, however, when a high-pitched screech reverberated through the forest. It was quickly taken up by many more inhuman voices until it spiraled into a sound so blood-chilling and evil that Mithrandos ground his teeth against the urge to cover his ears. He stoically kept on walking, never looking back, knowing that the sound behind him was one he would hear in his mind’s echo for the rest of his life.
"Let it be known that your duty has been fulfilled, Lord Mithrandos! The realm of Ithrandar has been freed from a grave evil and all shall sleep easier from now on."
The two other wise men nodded their accords and as one, they moved towards the chamber door.
“Come, Lord Captain. Too long has this tower been your home,” the third wizard said. “Let us retreat to the Hall of Wizards, take tea together and speak of things past and things yet to come.”
And so they led him from the room and out of the Guardian Tower towards the main temple building. Mithrandos looked around as they proceeded down the passageway; the colorful banners lining the walls, the polished wood floor, the view onto the village down the hill from the narrow windows...it was all unchanged. And yet all was different, for every person he would meet from now on would be a stranger. That abrupt realization about the reality of his situation sent a queasy feeling through him and it suddenly took an effort to focus to the wizards' incessant talk.
“…the Evil Powers are but a mere nuisance these days, Lord Captain, and easily kept at bay. Ithrandar has been peaceful for many, many seasons.”
“Yes, Milord, the tides have turned for the Good in Ithrandar since the capture of the Dark Sorcerer…”
Thankfully, the corridor was devoid of people save a dark-haired young man in a white Guardian uniform who was coming towards them with several tightly wrapped scrolls clutched to his chest. He walked slowly with his eyes on the ground as if in deep thought. When he neared the little group of High Wizards, he looked up, but the greeting on his lips died when his eyes fell onto Mithrandos. He stopped dead in his tracks as if he had run headfirst into an invisible wall and his grey eyes widened in disbelief. A scroll fell unnoticed to the floor as he stared openmouthed while the High Wizards whisked Mithrandos by, completely ignoring the young Guardian. For an instant their eyes met, but one of the wise men asked yet another of their seemingly endless question and Mithrandos’ eyes went to the old man’s face while he gave his reply. Then they rounded a corner and the young man vanished from their sight.
The second of the three Wizards was the only one who noticed Mithrandos’ bewilderment at the Guardian’s reaction. He gave the blond warrior a benign smile. “You had better ready yourself for many more such reactions, Lord Captain, for every man who dwells in the temple knows of you and your legacy. And by now, certainly everyone has heard the news of your awakening and the Dark Wizard’s passing.” The old man clasped him fondly on the shoulder. “You are a walking legend, Mithrandos son of Angaroth, whether you like it or not.”
Mithrandos resisted the temptation of rubbing his temples; he did not think he could be tired after so long a slumber, yet as he sat at the place of honor at the long dining table he felt a rising weariness in his body and mind. The banquet was going into its second hour and so far the questions from both the wizards and the high-ranking Guardians at his table had been non-stop.
Thankfully, one of the High Wizards finally saw through his carefully constructed polite demeanor and declared a gradual end to the festivities.
A room had been prepared for him in the Guardian Quarters and he was personally escorted there by one of the High Wizards. They parted in front of his door with the assurance that Mithrandos would seek out the old man after sunrise to speak some more of his time in the other dimension.
Finally alone, he looked around the Spartan furnishings of the small room and a sense of déjà vu hit him; so alike with the memories of his old life, yet so different. With a grateful sigh, the blond warrior dropped onto the bed. He rubbed his tired eyes, amazed at the fact that all he wanted to do, after his time of long slumber, was sleep.
After quickly shedding his uniform, he was crawling beneath the quilt when his eyes fell onto the table and the two scrolls Sensei Watanabe had provided him with. They held only a vague description of everything that happened in Blue Bay Harbor and he suddenly knew for a fact what the next thing was that he had to do.
'Tomorrow I shall begin my detailed recount of the events in the other dimension and when finished - spirits willing - my life might return to something resembling its old ways,' he thought, staring at the rolled parchments for another minute before he waved a weary hand and the light orb on the table extinguished. And with the room draped in moonlit darkness, he laid back to finally get some rest.
"Milord Wizard, by your leave I should like to examine the scrolls that tell the lore of the Seventh Era; you said yesterday that tales were written, but since much of importance remained in my head rather than on my notes, I am afraid that the accounts stored in the Hall of Records are incomplete at best."
The High Wizard stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Yes, the epic of your travels to the other world is one of the most famous and spectacular in the history of our realm, but it is quite...vague at times." After a moment, the old man nodded to himself. "I agree, Lord Captain, that the tales of your battle with the sorcerer as well as your accounts of the other world must be chronicled much more extensively, and the sooner the better!”
"Aye, Milord," Mithrandos said, holding up his scrolls. "Even the best of Ithrandar's chroniclers cannot be expected to weave the true story together from only these notes; they were mere scribbles and were not fit for public eyes in their far less-than-perfect state. Be assured that the lore leaves much to be told and elaborated upon."
"Then we must see to it that it shall be done promptly." The old man's eyes shone with anticipation and he rose and shuffled around the desk, picking up his walking stick in the process. “And I know just the man to aid you with the re-recording of your deeds. Follow me, if you please, Lord Captain.”
Mithrandos rose obediently and they made their slow way down the familiar hallways of the temple of The Light. Mithrandos had a pretty good idea of where they were headed, and his notion was confirmed when the old wizard said, “One of the assistants to the Head Keeper of the Scrolls in the Hall of Records is a very eager young man with a sharp mind, and especially talented in the ways of flowing script and illustration. So talented indeed that there is a good chance this bright Guardian will one day succeed the lord Samus as Head Keeper.”
“He must have other important tasks to attend to, then,” Mithrandos said. “I would not want to keep him from his duties in the archives, Milord Wizard, especially since to chronicle my journey might take quite some time. I could do it myself..."
But the wizard only chuckled. “Not to worry. Knowing him, he would fight a Black Dragon for the chance to be the legendary Lord Mithrandos’ quill. It is a vital part of history, after all, and history is what he lives for.”
They rounded a bend and the tall double oak doors of the Hall of Records appeared before them.
The Keeper of the Records greeted them warmly, his portly face brightening in delight when he heard of the nature of their visit.
“We can start the chronicles right away, Milord,” he said and, with a bow, motioned them to follow him towards the back of the large chamber where half a dozen separate alcoves were set into the far wall. Each niche had its own window and a formidable writing desk; this was clearly the part of the Hall of Scrolls where the assistants of the Keeper worked. Several of the desks were manned by men all clad in white Guardian uniforms and the Keeper steered straight towards a young man bent over a parchment with a quill. The Guardian was so absorbed into his task that he never noticed them approaching until the Keeper stepped into his direct path of light. “Arise, Kandaar, for you are about to receive a most honorable task.”
The Guardian’s head lifted, shoulder-length brown curls bouncing. “Milord Samus?” he said, but even as he did so, his gaze came to rest on the High Wizard and Mithrandos. At once, his face took on an expression of amazement and his grey eyes went round. It was the exact same look Mithrandos had seen the day before and he smiled slightly, now that he finally recognized the young man as the thunderstruck Guardian from the hallway.
Kandaar dropped his quill, his chair scraping over the floor tiles as he shot up and immediately bowed low from the hip.
The Keeper of the Records smiled indulgently. “Lord Mithrandos, I present Kandaar son of Hardun, my First Assistant and the most fitting scribe for the chronicles of your tale.”
The Guardian, who was still bowing, now faltered and looked between the three men with an expression of rapture and reverence. “Me, Milords? I…I do not know what to say…this is an utmost honor indeed!”
Mithrandos had to hold in a grin; the scribe was about his own age, yet the way his eyes shone and his face was alight with excitement reminded the captain of one of his sister's young sons.
‘The nephews I have never really known...’
Mithrandos blinked, willing away the sudden melancholy that threatened to overcome him and focused on the lord Samus' words.
"...cannot wait to read the true story of the legend of the Lord Mithrandos and the Dark Sorcerer. It will be splendid indeed, just splendid!" The Keeper's chubby face was positively beaming.
"Neither can I," the High Wizard concurred and took Samus' arm. "Therefore I suggest we give them some peace and quiet to get to work, shall we?" He winked at the Keeper and added in a stage whisper, "The quicker they get acquainted, the sooner we shall be provided with some excellent reading material."
The two older men nodded in farewell and the Guardians bowed at their retreating backs.
An awkward moment of silence followed in which the two men looked at each other, the scribe giving Mithrandos the kind of reverent look that the captain had seen more times than he cared to over the last few days. He cleared his throat.
“I apologize if I am keeping you from other chores…” he began, but the dark-haired Guardian was quick to shake his head.
“Oh no!” he exclaimed, waving a dismissive hand at the parchment on the table behind him. “It is nothing. Nothing that cannot wait.” He fixed Mithrandos with an expectant look. "Where would you wish to start, Milord?"
“Well…” The blond warrior cocked his head, thinking for a moment. "The most logical place would be the beginning. But I am not certain whether my beginning and the beginning of the already existing lore coincides."
Kandaar nodded enthusiastically. “Wise words. I will show you to the Scrolls of History of the Seventh Era to compare. This way, please, Milord.” He waved an arm and a moment later he was gone in a flash of white fabric, moving towards a massive array of shelves that took up the entire western wall of the Hall of Records.
Mithrandos' eyebrows rose in surprise; while he remembered this wall and its collection from back in his time, the number of parchments had risen exponentially since the last time he laid eyes upon it.
"The Wall of the Ages!" Kandaar exclaimed and the pride in his voice was clearly audible. "All is archived according to eras - and within that, archived once more according to the legendary names of the heroes of Ithrandar.” Kandaar pointed to a shelf filled almost to the brim with wrapped scrolls. “Over here are the lores of your era. Yours was a busy one; between the rising of the Dark Sorcerer, the destruction he heaved upon the lands, the Great Battle and your injury from his Cursed Blade –“ At that the scribe cast a quick glance at the warrior next to him and grimaced when he saw Mithrandos wince. “- ah, the Evil Forces’ rescue attempt and the legendary battle between their mages and your High Wizards…”
“Yes, I would very much like to read that account,” Mithrandos said thoughtfully. “I never could fathom how we came to be transported to this other dimension.”
“Accounts of that are a bit puzzling in the official scrolls as well. But one thing that was revealed from this incident was that the Evil Powers harbored a secret; it is that their magical powers are at their peak during a darkening of the moon and ever since that time, the Guardians are twice as watchful during times of lunar eclipses.”
Mithrandos nodded his agreement while his eyes continued to travel over the massive wall of scrolls and Kandaar's lips quirked at the near overwhelmed expression on the warrior's face at the sight of the thousands of rolled-up parchments in their hundreds of cubicles.
Mithrandos let out an audible sigh. If suddenly the building were to shake right now, they’d surely be drowned in paper. "There is so much I have missed, but looking at all this, I have little hope to learn all the lore of the many seasons past,” he mumbled.
"Milord," came the somewhat halting voice by his side and Mithrandos cast a glance into the now wary face of the scribe. "If you should wish to sort through the other scrolls of your era... I could help. I am quite familiar with them all."
Mithrandos smiled gratefully at the young man. "Well, you are the keeper of the scrolls; I cannot think of one more suitable for this task," he said and inclined his head in thanks.
Kandaar blushed. "Only an assistant, Lord Captain," he sputtered. "But it would be a great honor!"
“I thank you,” Mithrandos said. “One condition, however.”
“Milord?”
The blond Guardian cast another pointed look at the innumerable scroll collection. “As it seems that we will most likely be spending quite some time together from now on, I would ask you to call me Mithrandos – as my friends do.”
Kandaar’s eyes went wide. “Oh no, I could not...” he protested feebly, but Mithrandos only smiled.
“I insist.”
TBC…