The End of the Peace
The Shadow of Mirkwood
NOTES: From the time of Sauron's return to Greenwood the Great (TA 2460) up to the time of the White Council's attack on Dol Guldur (TA 2941), roughly 480 years had elapsed. Here, though, I tried to compress the most pivotal events within that period as though they happened only in a span of months. I've added some events which, though never mentioned in canon or in Tolkien's earlier drafts, do not necessarily mean that they never happened, and thus including them will not alter the eventual outcome of the War of the Rings.
DISCLAIMER: Everything that is familiar to you, I have no hand in creating. All credit goes to J.R.R. Tolkien and his son, Christopher.
"My lady," the sentry called behind the balcony. "Curunír has left in haste. He wished to stay longer but he says he has urgent matter at hand. But Mithrandir is still here."
Galadriel did not speak, for already she knew. Standing at the top of the dais, she looked over the distant woods east of Lothlórien, out into the gathering gloom of Dol Guldur. The dark clouds that overhung it stood starkly against the yellow of the setting sun.
"My lady?"
"Yes. I will speak with him," she said, turning to face the sentry.
The elf did not respond, but bowed his head slightly. Swiftly he strode out into the wooded canopy that spread behind the balcony. Galadriel turned her sight once more to the untamed lands that spanned the distance between her realm and the dark hill of Dol Guldur, where once a Necromancer dwelt. She recalled the days of old, when the trees that bordered what used to be Greenwood the Great swayed like bristles of grass before gently blowing winds. But now there stood only a mass of darkened leaves; the trees were wide and thick, their limbs contorted into a hideous embrace, while their gnarled roots clawed menacingly towards the grasslands beyond. Mirkwood, they call it now, as indeed it is, for now it has been darkened by the foul growth and fell creatures that have spawned since the evil's return. For once again, Dol Guldur is alive under some nameless power.
"You wish to see me?" Gandalf said as he came up from behind.
Galadriel turned to face him. Looking at the wizened old man, he appeared more weary than ever, the cares of Middle-earth clearly laden on his face. With bright eyes she beamed at him.
Gandalf returned a weak smile. He stood beside Galadriel at the high balcony. He knew they were in the highest mallorn tree in all of Caras Galadhon, for he could see the tops of countles towering mallorn trees spread in every direction. But his smile faded into a grim expression as his gaze fell on the dreary sight of Dol Guldur. Dark clouds hung ominously over the ruined fortress. A strong breeze seemed to blow from the west, but this did nothing to cast off the thick, black haze that hovered over the darkened hill.
"The wood is being poisoned, Mithrandir," Galadriel spoke gravely. "The evil power that had once fled has now returned. Indeed, its reach has grown great; for even as we speak, its venom is spreading across the forest, corrupting everything in its path. Already, messengers from Thranduil have come, bearing news of orcs attacking the borders of their realm in ever increasing boldness. Fell creatures have multiplied in the deep covers of Greenwood, and the Men of Rhovanion will no longer enter so willingly."
Gandalf recalled the day when he first entered the labyrinthine pits of the old fortress, when the nameless being that wrought its sorcery there had fled from him, thus beginning the four-hundred years of Watchful Peace. But all that is ended, now that the Necromancer has returned.
"I fear this is the very same power that we have driven long ago, only now more powerful," Gandalf said. "The scope of defilement that emanates from Dol Guldur tells me so."
"Nay. I fear it may be Sauron himself that now dwells in that hill."
Gandalf looked at the Noldorin lady. The name of the Enemy always bode ill, and the very suggestion of his return disheartened him, for they knew that they were as yet unprepared to meet a resurgent Sauron. "We cannot be certain. Not yet. Though we have the choice to act now, to thrust the Necromancer out of his hiding, doing so would prevent us from learning its identity. For I fear much as you have: that indeed this could very well be Sauron in disguise. We must distinguish this Necromancer from Sauron himself, for if indeed they are one and the same, then we are in much greater peril than we realize."
He looked into the distant hill opposite the Anduin, and with sharp eyes looked as if he were trying to pierce beyond the veils that shrouded it. "I must enter Dol Guldur."
The Lady turned to face him. And briefly it seemed to her that in Gandalf's worn countenance she beheld a shadow of the ancient days, where once she had looked upon the faces of the Spirits Divine that dwelt beyond the Circles of the World, for indeed that was what Gandalf was: a messanger from the West. But now she warned him gravely: "To enter it now would be more perilous than ever", she said, "and even more so if indeed it is Sauron that has taken residence there."
"Nonetheless, it is a risk I must take," said Gandalf. "All actions we take against the evil in Mirkwood would be futile, unless we learn its identity."
Galadriel looked sidelong at the wizard, and smiled broadly at him, and she said, "Mithrandir. Always you were the one burdened with a knack for trouble and danger."
Gandalf looked amused as well, though whether this was due to his foolishness or to the Lady's rare moments of jest, he could not tell. "Well, my lady," he said, his cheerful voice abruptly ligthing up the seriousness of the matter. "It is only proper, I believe, that someone should look into our problem in Mirkwood. And," he added jestingly as he prepared to leave, "I must insist you keep this from Saruman, lest he thinks I have turned most unbecoming of a wizard."
At this, the Lady gave a hearty laugh. Suddenly, as if brushed by silken feathers, Gandalf felt the Elf-Lady's warm soft hands alighting on his own calloused ones. "If things had gone as I had hoped, you would have been made Head of the Council at my behest," she said. "Alas! It was not meant to be so. But now I see purpose beyond the failure of my design. For Curunír has become accustomed to the comforts and prestige of his office, studying the arts of the Enemy from a safe distance in Orthanc, and in so doing, can no longer trust him to do the things you are wont. For what advantage would we have against the Enemy if not for your labours?"
Gandalf smiled, for indeed that was what he could only return. "Well, the hour is getting late. I'm afraid I need to be on my way! I'll return when I can."
Looking one last time at the gathering clouds over Dol Guldur, he turned and left, descending swiftly from the dais into the long flight of steps that led to the lower parts of the City.
Galadriel watched him as he left, her eyes keen as starlight.
"Namárië."