Melissa: I don't know how much dignity Gandalf can have in a mauve robe!
Karri: Another twist coming up. Hope you have motion sickness on hand.
Athena Diagon Cat: Yep. And they're not even halfway there (and Gandalf, for one, is now heading in the wrong direction).
Pallas Analise: Thank you. The child is supposedly the father of the man, so I glad you can see the 'kingly' nature of Estel the kinglet.
Dragonfly: Gandalf is going to wish he had been dragged off by a Troll!
Joee: Let us hope that there is enough left of Gandalf to mock!
Gandalf was spinning around and around, his body flying up, up toward the dark at the top of a tall tower. He could not tell what awaited him there. No, he thought, consciousness returning, that wasn't it at all. He was not flying through the air. He was on a horse. Yes, he had been thrown over the back of a horse and was being painfully jounced at each step. His head ached, his chest ached, and his feet were cold. Oh, yes, he remembered; he had lost his shoes. The jouncing stopped. Someone pulled him from the horse and threw him to the ground. Gandalf shivered. The unseen hands were icy cold. A water bladder was held to his lips. The liquid was foul, but he was thirsty. He drank, and the bladder did not vanish until his thirst had been satisfied. It was a consideration he had not expected. Nor did he expect to be covered with the blanket that now materialized.
"So I am not to be killed," he thought. "Not yet at any rate."
The wizard tested the ropes that bound his hands and tried to peer through his blindfold. Neither effort was rewarded. His feet were not secured, but that wouldn't do him any good if he couldn't see which way to flee. In any event, his captor had a horse and would like as not run him down if he did try to escape on foot. No, he was going to have to be quite clever about regaining his freedom. Of course, he didn't feel very clever at the moment. He had jauntily gone off into the woods, set aside his staff, and devoted his attention to lighting a pipe. Radagast would have been more aware of his surroundings than he had been! How could he have been so foolish! How could he have let someone or something creep up on him!
"The Valar ought to recall me for gross dereliction of duty," he growled to himself. "And no doubt there will be Elves coming after me, putting themselves in peril on my account when I was the one sent to assist the denizens of Arda, rather than the other way around. Curse me for a fool!"
In spite of the blanket, Gandalf shivered again as he felt his captor draw near. This was no Orc; of that much he was certain. The creature drew him to his feet and led him back to the horse. He was left standing momentarily whilst his captor mounted the steed. Then the being reached down and pulled Gandalf up before him. Whatever the creature might be, he was very strong, seemingly. Gandalf shivered and leaned forward, pressing against the horse's neck. The creature seemed to drain the warmth from his body. His captor must have understood this, for the blanket reappeared, but even with that barrier between prisoner and captor, Gandalf felt cold.
Gandalf had not heard his captor utter a word, and the wizard wondered whether he were capable of speech.
"May I ask," said the Istar, "in whose company I travel?"
No answer.
The wizard tried again.
"I am very grateful for the water and the blanket. May I trouble you to untie my hands and remove this blindfold?"
No answer.
"If we are to travel long together, it would be very pleasant to know—aaaah!"
The creature had seized hold of Gandalf's neck, and icy waves of pain shot through his body. Gandalf felt as if he were being stabbed with shards of ice, and he lost consciousness. When he recovered his senses, he was once again lying on the ground, the blanket covering him. From the cool air, he knew it was night.
"So I have been captive at least one full turning of the sun," he said to himself. "I wonder which direction we are traveling. South, I shouldn't doubt. Our enemies lie to the south. Am I to be carried to Harad? Or mayhap to Mordor. Harad, I hope. I could outwit the Southrons, I think, but I am not yet ready to face the Dark Lord, if ever I will be."
Gandalf had spied out the ways of Sauron when that being had dwelt in Dol Guldur in the guise of the Necromancer. The Istar had even assisted in driving the Dark Lord from that stronghold, but he had had aid and had borne his staff. Now he was alone and bereft of that weapon, and he feared that his mind would be laid bare should he be driven to confront Sauron in his current state. The harm that would result would be incalculable. It occurred to Gandalf that perhaps he ought to think about doing away with himself.
"If I cannot escape, I must stop my mouth," he mused. "It is too soon to despair, of course, but if I am freed neither by myself nor others, I must die."
Gandalf felt cold approaching and knew that his captor drew near. Again a water bladder was held to his mouth. Again he was drawn to his feet and led to the horse. As before, his captor mounted and then pulled the wizard up before him. Blanket covering him, Gandalf rested his head upon the horse's neck and cudgeled his brains, trying to think of some device by which he could escape.
"If we are traveling south," he thought to himself, "we must pass by Fangorn Forest, which means that at some point we shall not be far from Isengard. If only I could get a message to Saruman. He has power enough to counter this thing, I am sure. Or if I could somehow loosen my blindfold enough to see a little, mayhap I could make it into the forest and give my captor the slip amongst the tangle of trees. Would it be too much to hope that Treebeard or some other Ent may be nearby? They would protect me, I am sure."
With these prospects in mind, Gandalf began to flex his wrists a little, trying to stretch the bonds enough so that he could slip his hands free at an opportune moment and tear the blindfold from his face. As his hands were hidden by the blanket, he had hopes of succeeding. Ai! His captor divined his intentions somehow, and suddenly icy hands seized the wizard's wrists. The Istar cried out as pain shot up and down his arms. He came near swooning again, but the creature released its grip just as darkness began to overtake Gandalf's mind. Panting, Gandalf was sure that he was going to be sick, although he had had no food in his stomach since the previous evening. His captor dismounted and pulled his prisoner from the horse, tossing him roughly upon the ground. This time he did not offer him water or cover him with a blanket, and Gandalf lay alternately shivering and sweating, his eyes tightly closed. To make matters worse, his captor now tied his ankles, pulling the ropes so tight that the wizard winced.
While Gandalf was enduring this pitiless treatment, his friends were frantically seeking for him. As soon as Erestor had informed Celeborn and Galadriel of the wizard's disappearance, the Lord and Lady had sent out as many scouts as they could spare, Haldir and his brothers among them. Search parties had gone out in all directions, north and south, east and west. No trace had been found of the wizard's passing.
Elrond and the other Imladris Elves had chosen to go south. On and on they rode, heads bent as they scanned the ground, looking for the print of foot or hoof. They found nothing.
"Elrond," Glorfindel said at last, "they must have kept to the mountain ridge; else we would have found some sign by now."
"True," said Elrond, "but they must come down eventually."
"Aye, but they could descend at any point. With so much territory to cover, we will hit upon their trail only by chance."
"But what are we to do?" asked Elrond in frustration.
"We chose to search to the south because we believed it likeliest that any enemy who would assail Mithrandir would have come from the south, is that not so?"
"Aye. Either Southrons or the servants of Mordor. At the very least, someone in their employ who would wish to carry Mithrandir to their master."
"Then, as we believe Mithrandir's captors will carry him south, we must seek aid from allies along that route. Anyone heading south must at length descend from the mountains and pass through or by Fangorn Forest. That would mean that they must come near to Isengard. Therefore, we must leave off searching for our friend and hasten at once to the tower of Orthanc. Saruman and his servants would no doubt hear tell of anyone who passed near that place, and, once Saruman learns that it is Mithrandir who has been taken, he will direct all his powers to his recovery."
"Aye," exclaimed Elrond, straightening his shoulders, the hope returning to his eyes. "That is an excellent plan. We must ride as quickly as possibly to Isengard and enlist the aid of Saruman!"
Begging their horses to make haste, the Elves rode without let or stay to the stronghold of Saruman the White. That wizard perceived their coming from afar. The gates were open when the Elves arrived, and they rode straight to the steps of the tower of Orthanc, where the Istar gravely awaited them.
"You are welcome, my friends," he said gently. "I see that some great trouble rests upon you. Is there aught I can do to ease your burden?"
"You can indeed, my Lord," replied Elrond eagerly. "Mithrandir has been taken, and we believe that he will be carried south. We wish to enlist the aid of your servants in recovering him."
Saruman rarely showed surprise, but the flicker of shock in his eyes was unmistakable. Mithrandir taken, but not by his servants? How could this be? What force was meddling in his domain, seizing valuable prisoners without his leave!? Saruman's eyes narrowed. He had lately received reports of a dark creature on a black horse. His half-goblin spies had shivered as they spoke of him, although they could give no clear report of his face and figure.
"Draped all in black he was, master, with a hood that hung far over his face. Couldn't get no glimpse of his countenance."
The only thing that his spies were sure of was that the stranger had ridden up from the south. That, and his uncanny appearance, had convinced Saruman that he hailed from Mordor. Had this emissary of Sauron been the one who had seized Mithrandir? Likely enough he was. Saruman had enough respect for Mithrandir's faculties to know that he was unlikely to have been captured by any ordinary foe.
Saruman made his decision. He would see that Mithrandir was snatched away from his captor. Saruman suspected that Mithrandir knew something of great import, and he did not want his knowledge to fall into the hands of Sauron. No, he wanted Mithrandir's knowledge to fall into his hands. He would not stand by and permit that wretched wizard to be captured and tortured by anyone other than himself.
"I will be most happy to aid you, Lord Elrond," Saruman said smoothly, "for I am as much concerned as you in seeing that Mithrandir is not carried off by enemies from the south."
The faces of the Elves shone with gratitude.
"Oh, thank you, Lord Saruman, thank you!" said Elrond, almost effusive in his relief.
"No thanks are necessary," replied Saruman. "The pleasure will be all mine."