Chapter 11
"Tell me, Gandalf, did you think these plans and schemes of yours would go unnoticed?"
Saruman spoke to his inferior, smirking a little. The White Council, composed of Saruman, Elrond, Galadriel and Gandalf, were in the pavilion of Rivendell. Gandalf and Saruman were sitting opposite each other at an ornately carved round table. Elrond was standing on one side, but Galadriel was walking up and down, her restlessness clear to all. Dawn was slowly breaking, streaking the fading purple sky with gold and dusky pink. Gandalf had directed Thorin, Balin and Bilbo back to their Company. From the look in Thorin's eyes, he knew that the Dwarf would move his Company on when dawn broke.
"Unnoticed? No, I'm simply doing what I feel to be right."
Gandalf had been trying to convince Saruman all night that his quest with the Dwarves was warranted, but, for some reason, his Elder did not want to hear it.
"The dragon has long been on your mind."
The serene voice of Lady Galadriel answered Gandalf, and he nodded, glancing at her, as if to draw strength from her light.
"This is true, my lady. Smaug owes allegiance to no-one – but if he should side with the enemy, a dragon could be used to terrible effect."
Elrond and Saruman exchanged a glance, clearly not believing the wizard.
"What enemy? The enemy is defeated; Sauron is vanquished. He can never regain his full strength."
The scorn in Saruman's voice was hard to miss, and Galadriel paused in her walking, sensing the rising tension. Elrond tried to diffuse it, his own words more gentle, but no less firm.
"Gandalf, for four hundred years, we have lived in peace. A hard-won, watchful peace."
Gandalf bit back a snort and spoke, the frustration and annoyance ringing clear in his tone.
"Are we? Are we at peace? Trolls have come down from the mountains. They are raiding villages; destroying farms. Orcs have attacked us on the road!"
He knew he was getting far too emotional but no-one seemed to be listening to him. Gandalf knew by the way Saruman and Elrond were looking at him, they thought that he had lost his mind.
"Hardly a prelude to war."
Elrond sounded a little amused by Gandalf's little outburst, but before he could counter the statement, Saruman interjected, sounding angry rather than amused.
"Always you must meddle – looking for trouble where none exists!"
His eyes flashed with something that Gandalf couldn't identify, and for a moment, a terrible sense of foreboding crept over him, before he passed it off. He was getting too emotional.
"Let him speak."
Gandalf could not see the hard stare Galadriel directed at the other two, but he sensed her support and continued on, trying to make them feel his uneasiness.
"There is something at work beyond the evil of Smaug. Something far more powerful. We can remain blind, but it will not be ignoring us, that I can promise you. A sickness lies over the Greenwood. The woodsmen who live there now call it 'Mirkwood', and they speak of a Necromancer living in Dol Guldur; a sorcerer who can summon the dead. Even the Elementals are getting restless – the Singing is starting."
No-one spoke for a few moments, digesting the information. Elrond and Galadriel looked at each other, knowing that if the Children of the Valar were getting restless, something evil must be stirring; they were the most sensitive to any darkness that could fall over Middle Earth.
"That's absurd. No such power exists in the world. This…Necromancer is nothing more than a mortal man; a conjuror dabbling in black magic. As for the Elementals, they remain hidden in their home and no great numbers of them have been seen outside of their borders for centuries. What makes you think they are getting restless?"
Gandalf hesitated before answering. Eirian was his friend, and he felt a little guilty at giving her up, but this was the White Council, and they could be trusted.
"There is an Elemental in our Company; a Child of Manwë. One of her people, a Child of Arien and a Captain of their army, appeared to her on our travels. If a Captain of her army takes time to find one of his Warriors, then the situation is getting worse."
Again, heavy silence followed. Saruman began speaking but Gandalf let his words fade away as Galadriel spoke directly to his mind. She knew he had something that Radagast had given to him when he had crossed paths with the Company, shortly before the Warg attack. Slowly, Gandalf placed it on to the table and opened the cloth it was wrapped in, revealing a short blade. The White Council members looked upon it in shock, not knowing what say. Eventually, Galadriel spoke, eyes transfixed on it in abject horror.
"It is a relic of Mordor. A Morgul blade, made for the Witch-king of Angmar and buried with him. When Angmar fell, men of the North took his body and all that he possessed and sealed it within the High-Fells of Rhudaur. Deep within the rock they buried him, in a tomb so dark, it would never come to light."
Gandalf looked up at Galadriel and when her eyes fell on him, he gave her a small smile, trying to lend her some comfort. The blonde Elf returned it and walked over to stand beside him, their arms brushing together lightly. Support flowed from each of them, and Gandalf had a sudden feeling of it being them against Saruman.
"This is not possible! A powerful spell lies upon those tombs; they cannot be opened."
Elrond's voice was sharp as he looked at each of them. He began to pace, dark eyes troubled. He had been at the battle when Sauron was defeated and he did not want a repeat of that; not again. Not when he had a daughter.
"What proof do we have this weapon came from Angmar's grave?"
Saruman's cold voice cut through the air, and Gandalf looked to him, noting the almost blank expression on his face.
"I have none."
His reply was short, and he thought he saw a flicker of triumph in Saruman's eyes before it was gone, replaced by a hardness that surprised Gandalf.
"Because there is none. Let us examine what we know. A single Orc pack has dared to cross the Bruinen. A dagger from a bygone age has been found. A human sorcerer, who calls himself the Necromancer, has taken up residence in a ruined fortress. It's not so very much, after all. The question of the Dwarvish Company, however, troubles me deeply. I'm not convinced, Gandalf – I do not feel I can condone such a quest. If they'd come to me, I might have spared them this disappointment. And as for the Elemental – "
Saruman was cut off by the sound of quick footsteps. All eyes turned to the source and Lindir appeared, face troubled as his eyes found Elrond's. Even before he said the words, Gandalf knew what it was about. A light chuckle sounded from next to him and he looked up to find Galadriel smiling down at him, eyes shining with amusement.
"My Lord Elrond. The Dwarves and the Child of the Valar – they've gone."
(*)
Only Gandalf and Galadriel remained in the pavilion. Elrond had gone with Lindir to investigate the Company's disappearance and Saruman had left shortly afterwards. Gandalf was staring at the rising sun, smiling to himself. He knew that Thorin would move his Company as soon as dawn broke and he had not disappointed.
"You will follow them?"
Galadriel spoke from beside the Wizard and he nodded, not taking his eyes off the horizon. The sky was lightening rapidly, streaks of gold stretching out from the horizon like fingers. There was silence for a moment and then the Elf spoke again, voice quiet.
"You are right to help Thorin Oakenshield – but I fear this quest has set in motion forces we do not yet understand. The riddle of the Morgul blade must be answered. Something moves in the shadows, unseen, hidden from our sight. It will not show itself, not yet, but every day it grows in strength – you must be careful."
Again, Gandalf nodded, glancing Galadriel's way to see her watching him, eyes studying his face. He gave a weak smile, unsure as to whether he was trying to reassure her or himself. For a moment, they just looked at each other and then Galadriel broke the quiet that had fallen over them.
"I must admit that I am a little confused as to the Elemental's involvement. How did it come to pass?"
A bigger smile grew on Gandalf's face before he answered, a little light coming in to his eyes once more.
"Ah, Eirian! She is an old friend of mine and she was staying with Bilbo when I introduced the Company. I have a feeling she may have helped give him a push to come along on this quest. She is a loyal and kind woman, and more than willing to fight for the Dwarves."
Galadriel nodded slowly, thinking on his words for a moment.
"Would she not be better to be with her own people?"
At her question, Gandalf looked away with a sigh. He knew what had happened to Eirian and was uncomfortable in telling her story. Yet, Galadriel needed to know and he found the words spilling from him before he could stop them or filter them at all.
"She was in Dale when Smaug attacked. She helped to get people to safety, including Dwarves, even going so far as to escort them back to their own. She wasn't too badly injured…but she lost her twin brother in the attack. She wants Smaug dead as much as Thorin and his Company and I have no doubt that if there is a way to kill the beast, she'll take it."
The Elf showed nothing on her face but Gandalf knew her well enough to know that she was merely trying to make sense of the information and understand Eirian's pain. Gandalf turned back to the horizon, thinking on Eirian and her loss. He had come across her path a few weeks after the destruction of Dale and she had been…broken. He didn't want to dwell on what she had been but he had never seen someone so lost before.
The Wizard had also seen the blossoming relationship between her and Fili. It was a good thing, in his opinion, and he only hoped that Thorin would not get in the way of their happiness. Fili would be able to cool Eirian's sometimes fiery temper and in return, she would guide him down the right path to becoming a proud and honest Dwarf.
"Mithrandir? Why the Halfling?"
Galadriel's question broke through Gandalf's inner thoughts and he looked at her in surprise for a moment. It wasn't the subject change that had surprised him – he was able to keep up with the way her mind sometimes jumped from topic to topic. It was the fact that he didn't know exactly how to answer. Long moments stretched by as he searched for an answer. Finally, he decided on the truth and spoke, looking down at his hands.
"I don't know. Saruman believes it is only great power that can hold evil in check but that is not what I have found. I've found it is the small things, every day deeds of ordinary folk, that keeps the darkness at bay; simple acts of kindness and love. Why Bilbo Baggins? Perhaps it is because I am afraid and he gives me courage."
As he trailed off, Galadriel appeared in front of him and took his weary hands in his, causing him to look up at her.
"Do not be afraid, Mithrandir – you are not alone."
She smiled softly at him and tucked a loose strand of hair back behind his ear.
"Ae boe i le eliathon, im tulithon."
Gandalf gave a small bow at her words and Galadriel gently removed her hands from his. The Wizard looked up, only to find himself alone in person – but not in spirit.
(*)
I just had to put this in here. I had to :)
TRANSLATION
"Ae boe i le eliathon, im tulithon." - If you should ever need my help, I will come.
