"Gandalf!"
Who called his name? Before his eyes were a bright, golden light, but by some reason, he didn't get dazzle.
"Gandalf!"
A shadow approached, the shadow of a woman, the owner of the voice. She got closer, but the light was so strong that he couldn't see her face.
"Gandalf", she said, and stopped before him.
"Who are you?" he managed to say.
"The portals has sprung open", the woman answered. "The time has come."
"The portals?" he whispered. "What do you mean?"
"You need help", the woman continued, without taking notice of his question.
"Help?" he whispered. The woman nodded.
"You need help."
"Help… help!"
He opened his eyes. Everything looked as it should in the room; the fire still burned, his brother Nevyn was asleep in the other bed, his own clothes and weapons were on their hook. With a shiver he sat up, and rubbed his face. It was a long time ago since he had watched himself in a mirror; the queen had taken everything that could be useful for her. Also the magic. The wizard walked over to the bonfire with a grim expression on his face, and put in a new log. Then he sat down, and watched the flames dancing. From the pocket of his coat, he took out a long pipe, which he filled with pipe-weed. Slowly he blew one of his famous, blue rings, before he sighed and lowered the pipe.
"Help", he mumbled. "Freedom, we need help. Can you hear me? Freedom?"
Thousands light-years' away, a young girl woke up with a gasp.
