For the first time in nearly a thousand years, all five Istari had gathered in the same place. But as far as Saruman was concerned, five was one Istar too many.

"My dear colleague," he ground out, peering down his nose at Alatar, "Was it quite necessary to ride an oliphaunt into Isengard?"

Alatar fidgeted under his stare. "I thought walking would be too slow," he mumbled. "And I have never quite mastered horseback riding."

"It's true," Pallando supplied, leaning against the oliphaunt's leg. "He spends more time falling on his arse than in the saddle." This earned him a glare from Alatar, and he smirked.

Saruman just shook his head, taking a good look at his long-absent confederates. Their rather foreign appearance was no surprise - both the Blue Wizards had assumed human forms that resembled the people of the East. But what in Aule's name were they wearing?

"Alatar," he said slowly, "what has become of your robes?"

"Robes?" Alatar echoed, glancing down at himself. He was wearing a pair of exceedingly baggy white trousers, gathered at the ankles, with a sort of matching tunic. "Ah, yes. I found they were rather...conspicuous in the Eastern lands, so I took to wearing the local dress. Far more suitable for the heat too. As for the robes, I couldn't bring myself to get rid of them, so I had them made into a belt." He indicated a blue sash about his waist. "And an assortment of pocket-handkerchiefs, though I can't say where most of those have got to - "

"Very nice," Saruman interrupted the stream of verbiage. He glanced at Pallando, who was wearing a silk jacket in an eye-wateringly bright shade of blue, covered with dizzying patterns.

"I see that you too have adopted the local attire," Mithrandir said with interest. "Very commendable, I must say."

"Local attire? Hardly." Pallando snorted. "This getup is made-to-order. I look like a maniac out there too."

Saruman frowned. "But then why - "

Pallando shrugged, grinning. "Dunno. Just like how it looks, I guess."

Saruman nodded politely, while privately reflecting that the Eastern sun must have driven both of the Blue Wizards quite mad.

"I, ah, I'm dreadfully sorry about your little picket fence," Alatar put in suddenly. "It's just, poor old Bala can be a bit clumsy." The oliphaunt snorted at that, and he gave it a reassuring pat on the trunk.

"Picket fence!" Saruman stared at him in disbelief. "Do you mean my palisade? Which that beast of yours reduced to kindling?"

"Yes, well, I shall certainly repair it once we've finished our meeting." Alatar smiled apologetically. "Now, by way of apology for my tardiness and destruction of property, I would like to invite you all to hold the meeting in my quarters." He gestured upwards, and Saruman craned his neck to look where he was pointing.

Perched atop the spine of the oliphaunt was a garish, rainbow-hued pavilion that seemed to be a patchwork of assorted pieces of cloth. Protruding from the top were three metal chimneys that emitted puffs of green, blue and yellow smoke and the occasional piercing whistle.

Absolutely not, Saruman thought. But before he could refuse, Mithrandir decided to stick his oar in.

"That would be delightful," he said, smiling pleasantly. "I have never been on an oliphaunt before." Alatar beamed - he had always been childishly easy to please - and Saruman bit back a groan.

PPPPP

The Blue Wizard's quarters, Saruman reflected, were just as preposterous as the man himself.

The pavilion was dominated by a large potted tree, with spreading branches that stretched to the walls and brushed against the fabric roof. There was a round opening in the ceiling, and sunlight filtered in through large green leaves. Bright red flowers dotted the branches, and the air was filled with gently drifting petals.

Teetering bamboo shelves lined the walls, supporting all manner of peculiar instruments. There were coiled glass tubes filled with bubbling liquids, convoluted metal shapes with parts that seemed to move of their own accord, and a variety of potted plants that were unlike anything Saruman he had ever seen before. There were larger instruments set up on the floor – Saruman spotted a telescope, but that was the only thing that was remotely identifiable – and what little of the floor was visible was covered by thick, ornately patterned carpets.

"Oh, my..." Radagast gazed upwards, his face dappled with greenish light. "How lovely."

"A remarkable setup," said Mithrandir, bending down to examine a potted plant with spiky orange blossoms. One of the flowers roared and snapped at his beard, which he yanked away just in time.

"Ah, that one's a bit cantankerous," said Alatar apologetically. "He's on a diet, you see."

Mithrandir straightened up, his eyes twinkling. "Remarkable," he repeated, smiling.

Saruman scowled. Mithrandir always indulged Alatar as if he were a precocious younger sibling, when in fact the Blue Wizard had been in Endor longer than anyone and made a right hash of things to boot. And as usual it would fall to him to be responsible and call the others to order.

Drawing himself up to his full, very impressive height, Saruman cleared this throat loudly.

"If there is nothing else," he said a bit stiffly, "we really ought to get started."

"Ah! Yes, of course!" Alatar handed out cushions to the rest of them. "I don't keep chairs in my quarters," he explained. "We don't use them much, as a rule, in the East, and the oliphaunt finds the legs dreadfully poky. He has sensitive skin, you see. Which reminds me! Are any of you wearing hobnailed boots?" He glanced down at their footwear. "Just leather soles, I see. Excellent - no need to take those off. But dear me, I'm rambling – "

"Yes, you bloody well are," groaned Pallando, sinking to the floor and burying his head in his hands. "Can you just sit down and shut up?"

"I'm afraid Pallando is not at his best today." Alatar took a seat on the floor, his mouth twitching beneath his beard. "He overdid it a bit yesterday with the arrack – that's a sort of coconut brandy – and today he is feeling the consequences."

"Well, I wouldn't have had to get drunk if – "

"Pallando!" Alatar hissed, shooting him a look. Pallando held the other wizard's gaze and said nothing, an unreadable expression on his face. There was a rather long, tense pause.

"I was not even aware that Istari could get hangovers," Mithrandir said loudly, breaking the silence. "I've certainly never had one."

Pallando snorted. "Then you've obviously never had arrack. Want to try a glass?"

"Well, I suppose just one couldn't hurt – "

"Absolutely not!" Saruman glowered at them both. "We have wasted quite enough time all ready, and I will not have you lot getting drunk before we have even begun!"

"Yes, we really ought to get started," Radagast said absently, smiling at the plant that had attacked Mithrandir. "Don't you think so?"

The plant barked.

"Quite right, my dear chap," Radagast murmured. Saruman sighed and buried his face in his hands.

With enemies like these, Sauron hardly needed allies.