Disclaimer: No profits are expected from this fic, and everything still belongs to Mr Tolkien despite the insistent twiddling with the story.
A/N: Many apologies for the long delay in this tale....alas for writer's block and life's many obstacles!
The chamber, situated right at the pinnacle of the Dark Tower, was ever black as night, never penetrated by even the slightest bit of natural light. The only light that ever lit up the place was provided by the fire, whose dark glow gave the place an eerie feel to it. Even the darkest being in Arda required some form of light to survive.
That being sat in his throne, his massive silhouette almost overshadowing the light of the fire. He was wont to sit there and stare---glare, perhaps, was a more fitting word---into the fire, his mind ever wandering, twisting, prying into the very deepest recesses of his mind to conjure the most ingenious plots and devices for his evil purposes.
Of late, though, his mind often strayed far away beyond the confines of his present physical location, into territories far away, fueled by the frequent reports of his numerous spies and allies throughout Middle Earth, exploring the lands and the peoples that inhabited them, striving to gather all the information he could to pave the way for his desire to conquer the world.
Of course, there were many means of reconnaissance. Spies and allies only formed part of the surveying contingent. There was also his nine servants, led by his Black Captain, instrumental to his hunt for his lost weapon----that 'trifle' that would clinch the ultimate victory. Mighty as they were, they were but puppets, the mere manifestations of his powers.
Besides, they had yet to succeed in their mission.
As his most favoured means of reconnaissance showed. The Nine were, after all, useless. They were slow. They could only travel in disguise, unlike others in his service. They took time to traverse the lands or rally spies to report to him.
One would think a dark globe of crystal an odd means of reconnaissance. Yet, as was now proved, it was fast. One glance into it brought him up-to-date to events from Gondor to the former Arnor, within minutes. It had snared him Saruman, a potentially useful ally. That leader of Gondor had only been too easy to beguile. And the palantir was very apt to his hand, rendering fear, torture, tempting and other ways unnecessary.
The Great Eye no longer needed to roam the lands so much, nor to wait too long for important news. It bore more often now on the palantir. The images it presented to him were bewildering at times, but pictures spoke a thousand words, and Sauron's powerful mind easily formed conclusions from what he saw...
A small being, who he thought was a Halfling, though he had never seen one in person before, and three others like it, wandering, both in green lands and barren lands.
The earth shaking and groaning from great tremors, and that Elf who had stood at the head of the army opposing him long ago, falling, falling, into the bowels of the ground.....
Great spires of smoke rising from different lands....
Fierce battle.....houses and farmlands consumed by flames....Women dragging screaming , the terror etched on blackened faces...
He looked more closely to see what--or who---the aggressors were...
Elves?
He pondered over these puzzling observations. How could there be war and fighting already when he had yet to set his plans in motion? How came it that elves, themost peace-loving of all beings, were waging battle?
Someone has my weapon in his arsenal. One powerful enough to incite the Elves into fighting each other.
Sauron knew he had to act, and fast. He had to recover what was his own....
"My Lord."
"What were my instructions? "The voice thundered, far louder than the roar of the fire, louder than the fiercest thunderstorm. "Speak!"
"To retrieve what is yours, "the thin voice ventured.
"Useless fools," Sauron spat, causing his Black Captain to take a few steps back." Have you brought me aught?" His burning eyes blazed with fierce wrath, and his chief servant quailed and backed further, no longer daring to speak, so afraid was he.
"Bring back what is rightfully mine."
These words were quiet, but struck far more fear in the heart of the Ringwraith than any shouting could. He would much have preferred it had his master raised his voice.
"Someone has my power in his possession and has set it in motion." Sauron hissed, his voice resonating with hatred and malice." He will pay."
"But you will pay even more if you fail this time."
The Ringwraith, who had struck terror in the hearts of so many far more powerless beings, was now reduced to nothing but quivering nerves. He cast his black hood over his formless features, bowed and fled.
Gandalf's unmoving body lay battered and worn on the cold hard ground, his tattered remnants of his grey raiment scattered around him. The bitter frost bit into every sinew, every fiber of the body. Not a single part of his body seemed to desire movement of any sort.
Yet the immortal spirit encased within the mortal body was not on the same tangent. It winced with every groan of the earth that it could sense, and screamed for action.
Middle-Earth was in trouble, and it was up to Gandalf to save it. Yet he could do no more than to simply lie there, limbs sagging like a rag doll.
Something sharp prodded Gandalf. First on his shoulder.
Then on his chin.
Then on his forehead.
The Istar cursed at the disturbance, though in his current condition it sounded more like drunkard's mumblings. This jabbing was far more insistent than the frigid wind and the biting of the hard pebbles and jagged rock fragments on the ground.
A well-placed peck on the nose...and Gandalf's eyes flew open, only to be roasted by the abrupt exposure to light, rousing a pounding in his head that would have rivaled that of a dwarf's hewing on rock. When the agony subsided and his vision cleared, he beheld, hovering above him, the Lord of the Eagles, probing him with his great strong beak.
The eagle's next action was to clamp his talons upon Gandalf's long silver hair and make as if to fly off with the wizard in this precarious position. Gandalf immediately threw his body upon the eagle's back and fastened his arms around Gwaihir's body as he felt himself rising, rising high above the clouds, cruising in the skies.
"Ever am I fated to be your burden, friend at need," Gandalf said after he had recovered a little.
"A burden you have been, but not so now. Light as a swan's feather in my claw you are. The Sun shines through you now. Indeed you have no need of me now: were I to let you fall, you would float upon the wind," Gwaihir said.
"Do not let me fall!" Gandalf gasped. "Bear me to Lothlorien!"
"That indeed is the command of the Lady Galadriel who sent me to look for you."
After that both were silent for the most part of the journey, until Gwaihir descended from the sky in wide circles, and landed in the Golden Wood.
Gandalf raised his hand to his heart as a gesture of gratitude and watched Gwaihir disappear into the skies once again. He walked on the green grass through the trees, treading the familiar path to Caras Galadhon.
As he walked, he could not help but feel a vague sense of foreboding that he could not quite place. The wood was as fair as he remembered, but it was strangely, eerily silent. No bird sang, no animals scurried about. No breeze blew....the air had a stifling, musty quality about it. Like...
Like the Mirkwood areas outside Thranduil's realm.
His forehead creased the further he walked. There was not a single soul in sight.
No Elf guarded the gates of Caras Galadhon. Gandalf found his step growing wary; goosebumps rose on his bare skin; all the hairs stood on end. He could have called out to see if any answered. Yet he somehow knew; he was sure that none would answer. The City was quite deserted.
Except for...
The Lord of the Galadhrim, still as the waters of the Mirrormere.
"Celeborn?" Gandalf ventured. "Whither is the Lady?"
"Cele--"Gandalf's voice dwindled into a whisper as he looked more closely upon the elven lord.
The wizard turned and stumbled wildly away.
conversation taken from The White Rider chapter in The Two Towers book