Recollections
"I don't believe it," said Edwen Nana fiercely, glaring at the messenger. The room fell silent, no one willing to address the angry elleth. At last Thranduil cautiously cleared his throat. Everyone looked hopefully toward the King of Northern Mirkwood.
"Nana," he said gently, "we all know that Mithrandir's path was a dangerous one. Many were the risks that he took on behalf of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. And thus there was always the possibility—"
"It may have been possible, but that doesn't mean it has come to pass," Edwen Nana interrupted.
"My Lady," said the messenger timidly. "I was there when the Fellowship arrived in Lothlórien: two Men, one Dwarf, four Periannath, and one Elf, our very own Prince. He himself does not doubt the truth of the matter. He was heard to speak of his grief, although doing so almost robbed him of his voice."
"Nana," said Gilglîr, "surely you would not doubt Legolas. He was there when Mithrandir fell. He told Galadriel and Celeborn of it."
"I don't doubt that Legolas believes that Mithrandir fell. Indeed, I don't doubt that he fell—I mean in the sense of plummeting downward from a great height. But he's not dead."
"Of course," said Thranduil, believing that he now understood. "Of course. I see what you mean, Nana. Mithrandir will always be with us in spirit, won't he?"
"Don't patronize me," said Edwen Nana angrily. "That's not what I mean at all. Body and soul, he'll be back."
Thranduil and Gilglîr exchanged worried glances. The Valar were not in the habit of sending folk back for another go-round. Glorfindel the Balrog-slayer had come back, that was true, but he was the proverbial exception that proved the rule.
Edwen Nana, however, was troubled by no such thoughts.
"Tell me, Thranduil, isn't it true that you believed for centuries that Legolas had been captured and slain by spiders?"
"I know what you are going to argue, Nana. I was wrong then, and you think I'm wrong now. But in the case of Legolas, no one witnessed his death. It was surmised, and the surmise turned out to have been wrong. In this case, however, Mithrandir's demise can be testified to by eight witnesses whose testimony is unimpeachable."
"As far as it goes," replied Edwen Nana serenely.
"I don't follow you," said Thranduil, puzzled.
"No one actually saw him die."
"Nana, they saw him fall."
"Yes, but nobody saw him hit the bottom," Nana pointed out.
"True, but he must have hit the bottom eventually."
"Oh, doubtless, but how did he hit the bottom, that's what I want to know. I'll wager he landed on his feet!"
"Even if he landed on his feet, he did so in the company of a balrog."
"Yes, and I am sure the balrog lived to regret it—albeit only briefly."
Nothing anyone said could shake Edwen Nana's belief that Gandalf had not perished in Moria, and she at once began to beg leave to journey to Lothlórien.
"I am sure he will show up there hard on the heels of his companions."
"You had better let her go," Gilglîr advised Thranduil. "It may be that Galadriel will be able to help her to accept Mithrandir's death."
Thranduil saw the wisdom of this, and deputized Tathar to lead the escort that would accompany her.
"If anyone can keep her even slightly in line, you can," the king told the carpenter. "Like Legolas, you are as a son to her."
"Which merely means," Tathar observed wryly, "that she chastises me even more freely than she does the other Elves."
Thranduil smiled.
"True, but she also is a little more inclined to listen to you than to other Elves."
Thus it was that Edwen Nana and an escort set out for Lothlórien a few days after the news of Gandalf's fall had arrived in Mirkwood. Once in Caras Galadhon, she insisted on being taken to see Galadriel straightaway, and she minced no words when she stood before that Lady.
"Lady Galadriel, I have come on account of Mithrandir."
"Indeed? I take it, then, that you have heard from him."
'What a singular answer', thought Edwen Nana. 'That is something the Lady would say only if Mithrandir were—'
"You know that he is alive," exclaimed Edwen Nana excitedly.
"Lacking proof positive, I cannot say that I know he is alive. But I believe it to be so."
Edwen Nana waved her hand dismissively.
"Oh, I don't care to cavil, Lady. What I want to know is what you are doing to recover him."
"The Eldar in all lands have been asked for news of him, and even now as we speak bird and beast search every dell and mountaintop. He will be found, and when he is, he will be brought here."
"Excellent," beamed Edwen Nana. "Have you a cottage hereabouts where I can dwell whilst I await his return and where I can tend to him upon his arrival?"
"I will see that you are provided with a talan—one that is near to the ground."
"Thank you, Lady. I like to keep my feet firmly planted."
"I am sure you do," smiled Galadriel.
Every few days an eagle settled upon the top of the great mallorn tree in which Galadriel and Celeborn had their dwelling and relayed news of the search. There was little to report at first, but at last Gwaihir himself, Lord of the Eagles, arrived at Caras Galadhon. In his talons, tenderly, he bore a very thin, very worn Mithrandir. He deposited him gently upon the talan of the Lord and Lady, graciously accepted their thanks, and winged his way back to his own eyrie. Save for the ring upon his hand, Gandalf was as naked as the day he came into being. Altogether untroubled by that fact, he stood regarding his elven hosts.
"You look vaguely familiar. Have I ever troubled you before?"
"Yes," said Galadriel. "We have been good friends, and I hope we shall be again."
"I do hope you are right. You are a lovely lady. I trust," Gandalf added, addressing Celeborn, "you don't mind my saying so."
"Not at all," replied Celeborn, who acted as if engaging in casual conversation with a naked wizard was the most ordinary of pastimes.
"It is a little breezy in the canopy," Galadriel suggested tactfully. "Would you like a robe?"
"How very kind of you. Yes, I am rather cold. A robe would be just the thing."
Galadriel both fetched him a robe and dispatched a messenger for Edwen Nana. As soon as she received the news, that lady came bustling up the steps to the talan, tears glistening in her eyes, and if Celeborn had not quickly placed his hands upon her shoulders, she would have launched herself at Gandalf, who, frail as he was, would probably have been knocked off his feet and over the edge of the platform.
"Edwen Nana," said Galadriel soothingly, "as you see, he has not yet recovered his strength. He is as fragile as a butterfly but newly emerged from its cocoon. Have a care not to overwhelm him."
With admirable restraint, Edwen Nana carefully approached the wondering wizard, took his hand, and gently led him to her talan, where, if you will believe it, she 'bustled' about in a sort of slow motion, making him comfortable whilst at the same time not disconcerting him with excessive sound and movement.
For several days, neither Edwen Nana nor Galadriel and Celeborn, who visited him morning and eve, pressed the Istar to recall who he was and what he was about. With food and drink and song and speech they entertained him, nourishing him body and soul, but they refrained from any conversation that might try his strength or his wits.
"I think," Galadriel finally said one morning after visiting the wizard, "that Edwen Nana may safely begin to urge him to at least remember his name."
"I believe you are right," said Celeborn. "You should tell Edwen Nana so."
The next morning Edwen Nana set about encouraging Gandalf to recollect his name.
"Now Master Wizard, let's see what you can recall about your former life. Have you begun to remember who you are?"
"The eagle mentioned a name or two. I seem to have forgotten both."
"Try to recall," Edwen Nana encouraged him. "I could tell you, but I suspect if I did, you would again forget straightaway."
Gandalf tried to concentrate. After a few minutes, he said hesitantly, "Agrippa?"
"Not bad for a first try," said Edwen Nana encouragingly. "Have another go at it."
"Um, Bagman?"
"That sounds like the sort of name a Perian would have," said Edwen Nana. "Try again."
"Dumbledore?"
"No," said Edwen Nana. "Although," she added thoughtfully, "that name does suit you. You look somewhat like a Dumbledore."
Emboldened, Gandalf next tried, in order, 'Faustus', 'Flamel, 'Lockhart', and 'Lupin'.
'No', 'no', 'no', and 'no', said Edwen Nana.
"Malfoy, then?"
"I should say not!"
"What about 'Merlin'?"
"You're getting warmer. You wouldn't make a bad 'Merlin', particularly as you always do seem to be flying about in one way or another."
Gandalf looked around the talan, casting about for a clue. His eye fell upon a shiny ornament.
"Mithril!"
"Oh, very good! Very good, indeed!" exclaimed Edwen Nana, clapping her hands in delight. "Your name does in part resemble that word. Keep the 'Mith' portion and try a different ending."
Gandalf cudgeled his brains until at last Edwen Nana took pity upon him.
"What is it that you say when you wish to conjoin two objects? Let us imagine that you have said, "Legolas has a bow." Let us also imagine that you have said, "Legolas has an arrow." Now, to keep from repeating yourself, would you not say, 'Legolas has a bow hmmhuh arrow'. What word is missing?"
"And," Gandalf said promptly. "Legolas has a bow and arrow. And he does, too, doesn't he?"
Edwen Nana was delighted to hear him make both observations.
"You are quite right! Legolas is an excellent archer. And you are close to hitting upon your name. Add the 'and' to the 'Mith'. "
"Shall I place it before or after the 'Mith'?"
"After."
"Very well, then. 'Mithand'."
"Lovely!"
Edwen Nana looked about the flet for something else that she could use as a clue. A talan does not, properly speaking, have any doors, but she thought she could use the idea nonetheless.
"When you enter a chamber—an enclosed one, I mean, with walls and a ceiling—through what must you walk?"
"That is a ridiculously easy riddle. One must enter through the door."
"Good. Now add that to 'Mithand'."
"Mithandoor."
"Well done. Now utter it several times as quickly as you can."
"Mithandoor mithandoor mithandoor mithandur mithandur mithandir MITHRANDIR! My name is Mithrandir, isn't it?"
Gandalf was excited now.
"I am Mithrandir! Yes, I am quite sure of it. Tell me that it is so," he appealed to Edwen Nana.
The nursemaid vacillated between laughter and tears.
"Yes," she sobbed as she smiled. "Your name is Mithrandir." With that, she flung her arms about him and kissed him upon the forehead.
"Hmm," said Gandalf slyly. "That reawakens some memories as well—as well as other things."
"Oh, you droll creature," laughed Nana, loosing her hold upon the grinning wizard and shaking a figure at him. I do believe you are coming along nicely now—but perhaps I ought not to use that verb!"
"Ah, well," sighed Gandalf, "perhaps later. For now, tell me about this Legolas."
Edwen Nana complied, gladly telling story after story about Legolas and his adventures with the wizard. She went on for hours and hours, well into the night. The moon arose. Hours later, the moon was low in the west. At last Edwen Nana heard someone clear his throat. She looked toward the edge of the talan. Haldir was peering over it, an apologetic look upon his face. Galadriel had sent him to convey the suggestion that perhaps the wizard's faculties ought not to be overtaxed so early in his recovery. Edwen Nana gazed anxiously at Gandalf and was chagrined to realize that, although her tales fascinated him, he was nonetheless sick and weary.
"To bed with you," she exclaimed. "I shall tell you more about Legolas and your other friends when you are rested."
Late the next morning the wizard awoke tired and fretful. He remembered his name but otherwise seemed as confused as he had been upon his arrival in Lothlórien.
"I must be careful not to ask too much of him today," Edwen Nana murmured. "I will tell him no more stories but will merely see that he rests and eats well."
Edwen Nana had never been one to do anything by half-measures. When Gandalf napped, she kept very, very still; when he was awake, she hovered over him, offering him this and that tasty morsel. At length the wizard grew testy at being treated like a baby bird whose parents automatically poke tidbits into its beak whenever it yawns.
"Why is everyone always trying to get me to eat," he suddenly complained.
Edwen Nana pounced.
"You remember that!"
"What?"
"That everyone always urged you to eat more."
Gandalf considered.
"I do believe you are right," he said slowly. "People told me I was too skinny—you told me I was too skinny."
"Aha," crowed Edwen Nana. "I knew you were in there somewhere. What else do you remember?"
Gandalf suddenly looked aggrieved.
"Isn't it true," he said accusingly, "that you once locked me into a chamber?"
"Not exactly," she replied. "I wedged the door shut."
"Oh, is that all?" said Gandalf sarcastically.
This reply delighted Edwen Nana. 'Better and better', she thought. 'Soon he'll be as snappish as ever he was!'
Edwen Nana was right. Several more days passed, and it was plain that Gandalf was becoming his old acerbic self. Moreover, every day he remembered more and more of his past life. At last the day came when he remembered not only who he was but what he was—and perhaps even more important, why he had been sent to Middle-earth.
"Edwen Nana," he said thoughtfully one day, "I know I was sent here on some quest—mission—thing. It has something to do with a ring, I am sure of it."
Here Gandalf looked at the ring upon his hand. When he was sent back naked, the only thing he bore upon his body was that ring. He did not yet recall that this was the Ring of Fire, given to him by Círdan when the wizard had first set foot upon Middle-earth. "You are going to need it more than ever I would," said the Master of Mithlond, the Grey Havens of the Elves. Now Gandalf lifted his hand up and gazed wonderingly at the jeweled circle.
"This is important," he said. "It is powerful." Then he looked at Edwen Nana.
"I am powerful, too, am I not? And I am meant to use my power for a reason. I cannot stay here, can I?" he added wistfully.
"No," Edwen Nana admitted sadly. "You cannot. You had better go see Celeborn and Galadriel now."
For the first time since Edwen Nana had led him to her talan, Gandalf descended from it and went in search of the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien. He found that he knew the way, although, unbeknownst to the wizard, Haldir trailed after him in the canopy in case he went astray. But Haldir's services were not needed, and after the Elf saw Gandalf safely ascend to the flet of the Lord and Lady, he went away to resume his duties on the border.
From then on Gandalf spent much of each day taking counsel with Celeborn and Galadriel. Edwen Nana, however, was not left without a task to occupy her time. With Gandalf clearly on the mend, the nursemaid threw her energy into sewing him new garments.
'His hair and beard are now a brilliant white', she said to herself. 'I don't care that he's always worn grey. I'm going to dress him all in white. Likely he won't even remember that grey was his color, anyway'.
Having resolved upon the design and color of the new garments, Edwen Nana went at once to beg of Galadriel that she would furnish the necessary cloth, which would be mainly, but not entirely, of wool.
"I want linen for his undergarments," she told Galadriel. "He used to complain about his woolens. His skin is quite sensitive, you must understand."
"I am sure," said Galadriel, smiling, "that you know whereof you speak."
"Indeed I do!" replied Edwen Nana, unabashed.
While Edwen Nana prepared the new garments, Tathar, at her behest, carved a new staff for the wizard.
"Be sure that you stain the wood white, so that it will match his robe," she instructed the carpenter. Tathar obliged. First he carefully smoothed the body of the staff, and then for its top he carved a finial that in design was like unto an intricate knot of roots. After he stained his creation a brilliant white, it fairly glowed in both sunlight and moonlight.
One day when Gandalf returned from taking counsel with the Lord and the Lady, Edwen Nana presented the wizard with the staff and his new garments. After donning the clothes, he grasped the staff and, unbidden, the words came to his lips that transformed the wood into a means of channeling the power of an Istar.
"Hannon le," he said quietly to Edwen Nana, and then he returned again to the talan of Galadriel and Celeborn. There he found awaiting him a pair of boots that they had commanded be made for him. There, too, was a grey cloak, woven by the Lady herself.
"You are now the White Wizard," said Galadriel, "as you should have been long ago. It may be needful, however, for you to cloak your movements for many more days to come."
Gandalf wrapped the garment about him, and it was as if a cloud had o'erspread the sun. Even the light within the staff was dimmed.
"When it comes time for you to dispense with all disguise," said Celeborn, "you will dazzle both friend and foe."
The next morning, without being asked, Edwen Nana packed a leather pouch with a waterskin, smoked meat, dried fruit, and lembas bread wrapped in mallorn leaves. Atop she carefully placed something bundled in cloth. Then she handed the pouch to Gandalf, who slung it over his shoulder.
"Go well," she said quietly.
"Stay well," he replied. He took her face between his hands and kissed her forehead.
"I do not yet remember all," he said, "but enough to know that you are someone belovéd by many, and not least of all me."
Edwen Nana went silently by Gandalf's side as he walked toward the talan of Galadriel and Celeborn. The Lord and Lady awaited him at the base of the great mallorn tree.
"I would tell you to take care, Mithrandir," said Galadriel, "would it not be a waste of words."
"Your words are never wasted, my Lady," replied Gandalf, for the moment very much his old self. "They are each one far too precious to be cast aside heedlessly."
"If that is so, then I will say it: take care, Mithrandir."
"Insofar as I may, I shall, my Lady."
"That is as near a pledge as I have ever heard you utter, my friend. May the Valar hold you to it!"
Gandalf smiled gently and inclined his head. Then he turned and walked swiftly away, heading south, toward the border of Lothlórien. Edwen Nana watched him until he could no longer be seen between the trees.
'It's the old story: now he's been nursed back to health, he's off again', she murmured sadly.
"You let Tathar go, you let Legolas go, and now you must let Mithrandir go," said a voice behind her.
"Ah, Lady Galadriel," said Edwen Nana, turning to address her. "It does seem as if I am forever nursing those whom I love, only to see them depart."
"True, but some day both your affection and your sacrifice will be requited. Mithrandir is no more anxious to part from you than you from him. At the moment, he has responsibilities that he cannot ignore, but when his task is done and he can in good conscience turn his attention to other matters, I believe that spending more time with you will be very much on his mind."
"Responsibilities?"
"Yes, saving civilization, the fate of Middle-earth, that sort of thing," said Galadriel airily.
"Oh, well, if that's the case, then I can wait," returned Edwen Nana, equally airily.
Galadriel smiled and laid a comforting hand upon her shoulder.
"Mithrandir shall be glad to know it. He is, after all, not so different from his Halfling friends. Even now I can see Master Samwise as he tells Frodo that the heroes in stories go on because they believe that there is something worth fighting for. To know that there is someone or something that awaits, that means much, whether one is Maia or mortal. Without it, even an immortal life would be meaningless—indeed, perhaps an immortal life would be especially meaningless if there were no one or nothing for which one cared deeply. I could envision living without meaning for a space of time—but for an eternity?"
"They also serve who only stand and wait," said Edwen Nana softly. "Is that not what Men say?"
"Indeed they do. It is because there are those who wait that Mithrandir and the others fight on. And now I believe that there are those who wait for you and Tathar to return to Thranduil's Hall."
"True. Tathar must be missing his wife and children, and they him. Yes, it is time for them to be reunited."
"And for you to be reunited with them as well," smiled Galadriel. "You are the belovéd Nana of many."
Edwen Nana returned Galadriel's smile and went back to her talan to prepare to depart for her home on the morrow.
All that day, while Edwen Nana turned her thoughts toward Northern Mirkwood, Gandalf steadily strode toward the border of Lothlórien. When he entered the southern fringes of the forest, he paused to rest. "I think I had better have a bite to eat before I summon Shadowfax," he murmured.
Seating himself upon a log, he opened the pouch that Edwen Nana had packed for him.
"Let us see what is wrapped within this cloth," he muttered. "Some especial delicacy, no doubt." He folded back the cloth and stared in surprise. There lay a very fine pipe and underneath it a pouch from which arose the aroma of pipe weed. Chuckling, the wizard picked up the pipe and examined it.
"She must have acquired this from a Lake-town trader," he said, "although from the design I would say its ultimate source was Erebor. Well, well, I shall think of her every time I light it—which was no doubt her intention!"
Carefully he rewrapped the treasure to be brought out later. When he encountered Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli in the forest of Fangorn, he had it upon his person. When he stood on the balcony of the room he shared with Pippin in Minas Tirith, it was this pipe he smoked as he gazed toward the gloom of Mordor. Throughout the closing days of the Third Age, he carried it everywhere with him, and he only relinquished it when he and Frodo and Bilbo parted from their companions at the Grey Havens. Then it was he entrusted it to Samwise Gamgee, although he never told the Halfling why the pipe was so precious to him.
"He told me there wouldn't be any pipe weed where he was going, and I should keep it to remember him by," Sam told Pippin and Merry over their flagons one night when Pippin asked him why a battered old pipe had a place of honor above the mantle next to sword and helm. "And do you know, whenever I look at it, it puts me in mind of those smoke creatures he used to puff for our amusement when things seemed so dreadful."
"Ah, yes, his smoke creatures," said Merry. "Sometimes, when I am out of doors and see shapes in the cloud, I imagine he has somehow contrived to put them there. I see a great many more figures in the clouds than I used to, more than I saw even when I was a youngling and we used to lie on our backs and call out shapes one to another."
"That's true," agreed Pippin. "I can't look at a cloud without seeing galloping horses or soaring dragons or charging oliphaunts. That is how I shall always recollect Gandalf, I think."
Oddly, across the Sundering Sea, at that very moment a Maia and an Elleth lay side by side upon the shore gazing up into a sky festooned with horses and dragons and oliphaunts.
"Now, then, isn't this an improvement over those nasty smoke creatures of yours?" Edwen Nana said.
"Oh, I don't know," Gandalf replied. "It is true that these cloud creatures are on a grander scale, but there was something so cozy and intimate in blowing smoke rings before a cottage fire."
"Ah, if it's cozy and intimate you want," murmured Edwen Nana, "a pipe is not the only way to achieve such a state."
"You would suggest another method?"
"Mithrandir, sometimes I believe your recollections remain somewhat sketchy as to certain particulars."
"Perhaps," challenged Gandalf, his eyes gleaming, "you would like to try to refresh my memory. I believe I was forced to depart from Lothlórien before you had quite enough time to restore to me the knowledge of all that had passed between us."
"You are right, Mithrandir. There was much left—untaught."
With that, Maia and Elleth retired from the beach so that Edwen Nana might resume tutoring the wizard without fear that the lessons would be interrupted. And, truly, Edwen Nana must have been a very good teacher, for Gandalf was never again heard to lament the loss of his pipe. Praise the Valar that one's recollections can be such a power for good, and may we all have such sweet memories.