...or What Happened To The Blue Wizards
(not a ROTFLMAO effort, but it might raise a gentle smile)
Manwë summoned the Valar for a council at which it was resolved to send out three emissaries to Middle-Earth and he asked who would go. They would have to lose might and clothe themselves in flesh to win the trust of Elves and Men but this would also imperil them, diminish their wisdom and knowledge and bring upon them fear, the care and weariness of the flesh. Curunír was chosen by Aulë among 'his' Maiar and Alatar was sent by Oromë. Curunír was obliged to take Aiwendil (Radagast) with him to please Yavanna, Aulë's wife and that Alatar took Pallando as a friend.
Later that day, Yavanna watched Alatar laboriously pull his inert legs into the link chair by hand. Alatar settled into the warm fluid gel packs lining the unit. It seemed to enfold him. Yavanna adjusted his biometric sensors, then lowered the upper clamshell. "Relax and let your mind go blank. That shouldn’t be hard for you," she said.
"Kiss the darkest part of my lily white –" started Alatar, but the slamming hood muffled the rest. On a large monitor nearby a 3D scan of Alatar’s brain appeared. Regions of activity flowed with complex shifting colors, intertwining themselves in a complex web.
"That's a gorgeous brain. Nice activity," said the technician.
"Go figure," replied Yavanna as she walked away. "Alright, I'm going in."
"Phase-lock at forty percent. He's in transition," advised the technician as he watched a display showing Alatar’s nervous system aligning with that of the blue wizard’s body stretched out on the gurney waiting for him - two ghostly networks of light merging. "That's it. Find your way home."
Inside the link unit, Alatar’s eyes moved under the lids, like a dreamer in REM sleep. Inside his mind radiant streamers of fallow gold and silver that glistened with the fresh dew of a spring morning, coalesced into a pulsing tunnel of light which flared white, resolving into an overexposed, out-of-focus image - two blurry faces wearing masks, looking down.
"He's in," announced the technician. "Phase-lock ninety nine percent. The link is stable."
Blinking, Alatar slowly sat up on the gurney. He looked down at his new blue body, touching his chest with one hand. "Take it slow, Alatar. We need to check your motor control. Try touching your fingertips together…"
But Alatar was not listening. He stared at his legs. He eased them off the gurney and his blue feet touched the concrete floor, taking his weight. He stood up, feeling the strength in his legs. His expression was child-like with wonder. He looked down at the med techs, who seemed the size of hobbits next to his 9’ tall frame.
He saw a large stick-like object out of the corner of his eye and jerked around in alarm. It was his staff, attached in a sheath to his waist. As he turned to see it, the staff swept instruments off a nearby table with a crash. Alatar laughed and grinned wildly at the technician.
"Easy, Alatar, I need you to sit down…"
But Alatar took a step, then another. The wires to the bio-monitors pulled taut and he yanked them off his chest.
"Alatar! Wait, we have to run some tests."
But Alatar pushed past the protesting med techs, toward the door and emerged, blinking in the morning sun. He found himself in the Outer Lands. He flexed his legs, jumped, and landed a little unsteadily, but his expression was joyful. He took a few steps and broke into a run. People were calling to him, somewhere, but he did not hear them – he was running. Running!
I never made the connection before this...
