This was supposed to be a chapter in "Things Fall Apart," but Edwen Nana began to take over the story, and, well, the dialogue turned naughty until finally I decided it had better become an episode in "Hair Raising Adventures." Actually, it is nowhere near as naughty as it could have been. Originally, I included a riff in which a dreaming Gandalf mutters, ahem, "Fireworks, Gandalf, fireworks." But that sequence got a little bit (!) out of control and I cut it.
Thanks to the reviewers of the last episode (posted way back in May!): Farflung (are you still out there?), Melissa, Starlit Hope, Lynne2, Karri, SilentBanshee, Joee, and Dragonfly.
Beta'd by Dragonfly.
Gandalf had had another hard week and was looking forward to the restorative powers of a good glass of Dorwinion wine. "Thank the Valar it's Highdei!" he sighed gratefully as he rode on his borrowed horse toward Thranduil's Great Hall. "Monendei I had that dreadful encounter with Gollum, a spider's web, and two Orcs; Trewesdei I found myself escaping out a tower window and twisting my ankle into the bargain; Hevensdei I spent slogging through brambles and briars; and Meresdei I was treed by wargs. When I arrived at the Grey Havens, I was warned by Círdan that the course of a true wizard ne'er did run smooth, but, still, it would be nice if I could pass at least one week without being in peril of life and limb. Ah, but here is the Hall!"
Gandalf dismounted from his steed a trifle stiffly. The guards eyed him askance, as he was rather more dirty and ragged than usual, but he had been guided from the border of Southern Mirkwood by none other than Legolas' good friend Tathar, who proceeded to escort him past the dubious sentries. Once inside, Tathar brought Gandalf to Gilglîr.
"Mithrandir," exclaimed Gilglîr, "we did not expect you."
"When have you ever expected me?" Gandalf cheerfully replied.
"Never, of course, but this time we positively did not expect you because it was thought you were heading to Imladris."
"Yes, I was," agreed Gandalf, without explaining himself any further, of course.
"I suppose," continued Gilglîr, shaking his head and smiling, "that you would like to see Thranduil."
"If it wouldn't be too much trouble."
"I will go and announce you."
Shortly thereafter Gilglîr knocked upon the door of Thranduil's private chamber, where the King was also reveling in the fact that it was Highdei. He had just poured himself a glass of wine and was leaning back upon a most comfortable settle.
"Mithrandir has just arrived," declared Gilglîr.
"Has he? He wasn't expected, but I'm glad to hear it nonetheless. I should like to see him at once."
"I think you will find his appearance rather remarkable," warned Gilglîr.
"Of course," said Thranduil airily. "Being a wizard, he has always had a remarkable air about him."
"Oh, it's more than an air this time," the Seneschal assured him.
Thranduil waved his hand dismissively.
"Gilglîr, do bring him in. I am most anxious to see him. And then, if you would, fetch Legolas. I know he will be glad to see his old friend and mentor."
"He'll see him alright," muttered Gilglîr, "more of him than I warrant he's ever seen before." With that the Seneschal went off to do as he was bid.
Soon after, the doors to the presence chamber were flung open and a servant announced Gandalf, who came strolling in rather nonchalantly, considering that he still had a bit of a limp. Thranduil came near dropping and breaking another wine glass.
"Mithrandir," he gasped, whatever has happened to you!?"
"Orcs have happened to me," Gandalf replied calmly. "I would dearly love a glass of that wine, if it wouldn't be too much trouble."
Mutely, Thranduil handed him his own glass, which Gandalf drained.
"Ah," he sighed appreciatively as he set the glass down. "Of all the elven realms, you set your table with the best wine."
Thranduil finally found his voice.
"Mithrandir, the last news I received of you, you were safe at Edoras, recuperating from an encounter with Orcs. Only a few weeks ago Elrond and his Elves set off to retrieve you and escort you to Imladris to complete your convalescence. I am not surprised that you are not in Elrond's company, for you are willful and I half suspected you'd give him the slip. But I was far from expecting that you would show up on my doorstep in such a condition!"
"And what condition would that be?" said Gandalf calmly.
"Mithrandir, you have burrs in your beard, your hair is as tangled as a Dwarf's, your leggings scarcely do their service, and you are missing your tunic and surcoat altogether. You bear a cloak that I see from its design is a borrowed one, so no doubt you have lost your own. Moreover, your face is dirty, as are your fingernails."
Gandalf gazed at his hands.
"I do need a good wash," he admitted.
"I'll have Edwen Nana see to it," said Thranduil.
"Oh no! Not Edwen Nana!" protested Gandalf. "I have heard all about Edwen Nana!"
"Nevertheless," said Thranduil, who was now grinning mischievously, "in a case such as this, I think only Edwen Nana will do!"
"Thranduil," Gandalf said humbly, "I beg of you: do not inflict Edwen Nana upon me! Allow me the use of a cauldron and furnish me with spare clothes, and I swear to you that in a trice I shall resume my former appearance."
"That's not saying much," retorted Thranduil gleefully, "as your former appearance was itself fairly disreputable."
Fortunately for Gandalf, he did not have to reply to that observation, for Legolas arrived just then and launched himself at the wizard.
"Mithrandir, you were not expected! We thought you would be at Rivendell by now. I'm so glad you've come!"
"Yes," said Gandalf hastily, "and I have gone to a great deal of trouble to get here." He smirked at Thranduil.
Legolas noticed Gandalf's appearance for the first time.
"By the Valar but you have! I have never seen you looking so, so—rustic!"
"Rustic? Yes, I like that, rustic."
The wizard rose to his feet.
"Legolas, I have need of a cauldron, a great quantity of warm water, soap, brushes, towels, and spare clothes."
"Oh, Edwen Nana will be glad to see to all that," Legolas replied promptly.
Thranduil laughed at the expression on Gandalf's face.
"All roads lead to Edwen Nana," he teased. He nodded at Legolas. "Go and fetch her, my son."
A little while later Edwen Nana bustled in. She took one look at Gandalf and began to cluck indignantly.
"Filthier than ever Estel was!" she scolded.
"I hardly think that is possible," retorted Gandalf with all the dignity he could muster.
"Oh, yes, it is, Master Mithrandir, for Estel lacks a beard and therefore has one fewer spot where dirt can accumulate. Considering your beard, and factoring in the difference in your sizes, pound for pound you are the grubbier."
"You will never refute her arguments, Mithrandir," laughed Legolas. "You'd best get it over with."
Grumbling into his tangled beard, Gandalf followed Edwen Nana into a chamber where a cauldron had been filled with warm water. She picked up a brush and eyed him expectantly.
"I am not removing my garments whilst you stand there," he spluttered.
"I don't see why not," she replied coolly, "as you are the better part of naked already."
"Nevertheless, I must maintain some semblance of dignity!"
"Very well. I shall wait outside. But don't even think of locking the door behind me. It would be a futile effort on your part. I have years of experience at picking locks, for elflings are forever locking themselves into cupboards and wardrobes and needs must be rescued."
"I assure you that I will not lay a hand upon the lock," Gandalf replied.
The minute the door had closed behind the nursemaid, Gandalf smiled. "Won't lay a hand upon the lock, but then I won't have to," he chuckled. With that he pointed his staff at the door and recited every charm he could recall for the sealing of doors, several of them uncommonly powerful. At last he was quite sure that it would take a Vala to get into the chamber. He stripped off the remnants of his clothes, and with a contented sigh he slipped into the warm water and reached for a bowl of soap and a brush. On the other side of the door, Edwen Nana had commenced pounding, and then Gandalf heard the jiggling of a pin in the lock. He blithely ignored these noises, and after awhile Edwen Nana gave up and went away. "Score one for the wizard," Gandalf chortled.
Several hours later Gandalf stood woefully before the door. Three times he had run through his stock of lock-countering charms, and still the door would not open.
"Either I have left one out, or I am not reciting them in the correct order," he muttered mournfully. He racked his brains, trying to recall which sealing charm he had recited first, which second, and so on. For the fourth time he chanted every unsealing spell he could remember in what he hoped was the right order. He pushed upon the door. No good. He cast his staff to one side and slumped upon the floor, putting his head in his hands. On the other side of the door, Edwen Nana spoke.
"Master Mithrandir, do you require some assistance in exiting the room?"
"Yes, Edwen Nana, but I am afraid that there is naught you can do."
"Oh, I think that there is. It is merely necessary that you speak the magic word."
"But I have been speaking magic words," cried Gandalf in frustration. "Dozens of them!"
"None of them the right one. Surely you must have been taught the magic word."
The magic word? The magic word? Gandalf was tempted to use his staff to literally cudgel his brains.
"Saes?" he said at last, as hesitantly as any elfling.
"Yes! 'Please' is indeed the magic word. Now try the door."
Gandalf placed his hand upon the door, and it swung open easily upon its well-oiled hinges, revealing a triumphant Edwen Nana on the other side. Gandalf stared at her in awe.
"I did not know that you were an enchantress," he said, amazed.
"Did you not?" she said loftily. "So much the worse for you! You had better come along now if you expect to get any dinner. Your hair is dreadfully untidy, but 'tis too late to do anything about that, I suppose."
Meekly, Gandalf followed Edwen Nana to the dining hall, all the while puzzling over the source of Edwen Nana's powers.
"I never saw her amongst the Maiar," he mused, "and when I was told of the other wizards who were being sent to Middle Earth, I never remember hearing her name. She certainly hasn't got a ring, or if she does, she keeps it well hidden, for she eschews bodily adornment of any kind, although—of course!—she has a neat and cleanly appearance that is not without its appeal."
Still puzzled, Gandalf arrived at the table, where he was seated by Legolas so that mentor and pupil could catch up one with one another.
"Legolas," Gandalf ventured at last, "Edwen Nana is somewhat—remarkable—is she not?"
"Oh, yes," agreed Legolas. "No one can match her for sewing and embroidery, and so good she is with younglings that she has almost bewitched the elflings hereabouts."
"Exactly! She bewitches them! Have you ever considered how she manages to do so?"
"No, but the cause is not far to seek. She is of a giving nature; moreover, she has had centuries of experience in caring for little ones, including, I might mention, five very trying years in charge of me. Small wonder that she is so skillful!"
Gandalf shook his head.
"There must be more to it than that!"
"I think not, Mithrandir, but why the sudden interest in Edwen Nana?"
"No reason," mumbled Gandalf. "Just curious, is all."
Legolas gave the wizard an odd look but let the matter drop.
After dinner the company repaired to a room that was the Greenwood equivalent of Elrond's Hall of Fire, there to sing and converse. Tathar approached Edwen Nana, who happened to be standing near Gandalf.
"Edwen Nana," he called, "did that wedge serve your purpose?"
"Yes, thank you, Tathar," she replied, turning hastily away, but he called after her.
"I still do not understand, Nana, why you would need a wedge to keep your chamber door from slamming shut. The Great Hall is well-aired, with numerous ventilation shafts, but, still, one would not call its corridors breezy!"
Edwen Nana hastily retreated from the room, but Gandalf pursued her into one of the corridors, which, he smugly noted, was indeed decidedly lacking inbreeziness.
"Madam, a word with you!"
Reluctantly, Edwen Nana stopped and turned, her face betraying a slight flush.
"So," crowed Gandalf, "my unsealing charms had succeeded! The door was not in fact locked, but you had blocked the door. No 'magic word' was in fact necessary."
"Would you have gotten out without uttering it?" retorted Edwen Nana.
This gave Gandalf pause. He had to admit that Edwen Nana had been very much in control of the situation. Ergo, the 'magic word' had indeed been necessary.
"Well," he spluttered, "but it wasn't really a magic word."
"It unlocks more doors than any word I know."
"Yes, well, but that would be speaking figuratively."
"Know you not that sometimes the greatest truths are those that are expressed in similes and metaphors?"
Since he himself had been known to rely upon such tropes, Gandalf could hardly argue with her. "I had better abandon the battle," he thought to himself. As he did so, he ruefully realized that this last thought had been, yes, a metaphor. He spoke very cautiously.
"Madam, for your services today, I am in your debt."
Edwen Nana grinned saucily. "Right," thought Gandalf, "potentially another metaphor."
"Ah, Madam, I thank you for your assistance, and if I can ever repay, uh, requite you in some way, do not hesitate to ask."
"So careful a speaker," teased Edwen Nana. "Be sure to take as good a care of your staff as you do your tongue!"
By now Gandalf was exquisitely attuned to any and all possible metaphors, so he stared at Edwen Nana suspiciously. He tried to answer with the greatest of care.
"I always handle my staff carefully," he said. "No! I mean, I don't!"
"You don't handle your staff carefully? For shame, Master Mithrandir!"
"I mean," said Gandalf miserably, "I take good care of my staff. No! That's not what I mean, either!"
"Master Mithrandir, if you cannot take care of your staff, I shall be very glad to take care of it for you."
This last statement proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back, although Gandalf would have probably said 'the stick that broke the oliphaunt's back', as he had no knowledge of camels. Letting out a wail that a Ringwraith would have envied, the wizard fled down the hall, robe billowing behind him.
"Whatever was the matter with Mithrandir?" exclaimed an astonished Legolas, who had come running out at the sound of the wizard's wail.
"Can't handle his staff, apparently," Edwen Nana said insouciantly.
"Of course he can handle his staff," Legolas retorted indignantly. "He takes very good care of it!"
"Does he? Never plays with it?"
"Play with it! The very idea! A wizard's staff is like a carpenter's tool or a soldier's weapon. One does not play with such a thing."
"Oh, it's a thing now, is it?"
"Well, of course it's a thing, Nana. As it is an object, it is a thing."
"Legolas," said Edwen Nana fondly, "you are such an innocent. Betake yourself and your own weapon to Mithrandir, and do tell him that, should he ever want his shaft polished, pray do not hesitate to ask."
"You mean his staff," corrected Legolas.
"That, too," said Edwen Nana cheerfully.
Legolas shook his head in bewilderment at Edwen Nana's peculiar message but did as he was bidden. Reader, it is surely is a pity that Gandalf's reaction to the message was never recorded. I know that I should have liked to have heard what he said—assuming, of course, that he was capable of saying anything at all!