It was a rainy day in Forks, Washington. Carlisle Cullen sat in his study at the Forks Hospital, looking out the window into the gray gloom that was so like his damned soul. Carlisle was extremely gifted and respected in his job at the hospital and in the vampire community at large, but sometimes the burden of his responsibility, all the souls in his hands, weighed heavy on his mind. Today was one of those days. He and Esme were fighting again. How could two people so good, so pure, be so at odds? He believed in the sanctity of marriage, God's union of man and wife, yet there was always the nagging feeling that there could be something more. Suddenly, a knock at the door interrupted the flow of his thoughts, like a rock in a deep river.
"Doctor Cullen?" his attractive young assistant called tentatively. She was beautiful, but Carlisle was a good man and felt no desire for her.
"Yes, Daisy-Buchanan?"
"There's a gentleman here to consult with you. He has a British accent and sounds as if he's traveled an awful long way to seek your wisdom. He wears but rags, but he has the look of an honest man. As a lowly secretary, I cannot possibly learn what he wishes to talk to you about, but if you will see him, I will bring him in directly, Doctor Cullen, sir."
"Of course, Daisy-Buchanan. He sounds to be a very important guest. Will you show him in?" Carlisle, being still in a pensive mood, was not overly enthusiastic for discourse, but being an obliging gentleman-scholar, he would at least be polite. He straightened his fashionable necktie as he awaited his guest.
The door opened yet again, and the generous and respected Doctor Carlisle Cullen was confronted with an arresting glance of gleaming blue eyes under shocking bushy grey eyebrows. It was an intense glance, yet Carlisle felt unafraid, and comforted even. It was as if, in his thousands of years of undead existence, he had finally encountered something new, something that could utterly change his world.
The visitor was indeed dressed in shabby grey clothing, with a crushed pointed hat and a gnarled staff. He was slightly stooped, but still tall and imposing, with a full beard that dangled down past his chest. He smelled vaguely of perfumed herbs and soot – an aroma that erotically caressed Dr. Carlisle's keen vampire nostrils.
"Welcome to my office. I'm Doctor Cullen."
"I'm glad I finally found you. I am Gandalf the Grey, but you may call me simply Gandalf." His piercing blue eyes gave a friendly and, dare I say, mischievous twinkle. Yet Doctor Cullen, from his years of experience, was not so easily disarmed.
"I hope you've had a comfortable trip. My secretary, Daisy-Buchanan, tells me you've come a long way."
"You could say that. But, I think we both know I'm not here to talk about such petty matters as my traveling experiences. You see, Doctor Cullen, I'm here because I have a problem that I believe we share. May I shut the door?"
The black river of Carlisle's troubled domestic thoughts had given way to a swirling vortex of possibility. But, keeping a cool exterior, as he was wont to do, he gestured smoothly to Gandalf, who shut the door and sat down. Doctor Cullen couldn't help but marvel—even seated this strange man had an alluring power and stance. He nodded to Gandalf, indicating that he could continue his speech.
"Doctor Cullen, these are dark times. Do you not agree? Sometimes, it feels as if it's only a few brave men—men, and other creatures—that are holding our world together. Yet even the brightest of us, without love, can fall prey to the darkest forces beyond our control."
Carlisle said nothing, astounded. How did this stranger know how to vocalize all the thoughts that had been plaguing him?
"I have such a friend. One who displayed the most astounding fortitude, who vanquished the greatest darkness in spite of the growing darkness inside himself, who despite his size held the fate our our entire world—and perhaps your world too, Doctor Cullen—in his hands and preserved it. A fellow deserving to be a king, yet content to be just a hobbit."
Carlisle leaned in closer at this unknown word. "Excuse me, I didn't quite catch that. A hobbit, you say?"
Gandalf gave a small but bright smile, the corners of his bright blue eyes crinkling up warmly. "Of course, Doctor Cullen. Even a man of your learning, in this world, couldn't be expected to be thoroughly versed in the lore of Middle Earth. You see, I hail from a land of many races: not only men, but hobbits—also called halflings, extraordinary creatures, small, but resilient and overwhelmingly brave—as well as dwarves, goblins, and, finally, elves."
Carlisle's head was all a-spin. How could he have fancied himself so learned, when a whole world existed under his nose. This mysterious stranger's words were terrifying, yet Carlisle clung to them like a lifeboat in a stormy ocean.
"I have come off from a sojourn with the elves—noble creatures, but proud, and detached. I lived among them with this commendable friend I was telling you of, yet despite the beauty of their world, his heart remained empty. He had gone across the sea while his one true love stayed behind, wed to another, and his soul, still so cold from the burden he had carried and the otherworldly wounds he had sustained, became colder still for want of this companionship. Under these circumstances, it was tragic, yet understandable, that he turned yet again to darkness. He sought out an outsider among the elves—a creature I believe you are familiar with, a vampire. He allowed himself to become infected with this creature's venom.
"Now, good Doctor Cullen, I am well aware that this change is irreversible. However, I have heard of the degree to which you are admired and respected, and the lifestyle you follow, and I have sought you out to beg your aid in rehabilitating my brave companion, Frodo. Would you be so kind as to indulge an old wizard?" He asked this last question with a twinkle in his piercing blue eyes, and that smile—that smile!—that was already becoming so dear to Doctor Cullen's heart.
For once, Doctor Cullen was challenged. The intellectual stagnancy of his comfortable hospital job was utterly obliterated, and he knew he would never be the same. He considered carefully before speaking, searching for stability in the lines of Gandalf's wise face and his comforting scent.
"I must admit, this is a bit shocking, Gandalf. But I'd love to consider this conversation. How about my place for tea this afternoon?"
Gandalf assented, and no sooner had he walked out than the competent and attractive secretary Daisy-Buchanan had pencilled him in for a private home consultation.
