The Space Wizard and the Istar

Old Habits

It was a curious sensation, to say the least, to travel in the Tardis. Gandalf felt as though he was plunged through the ocean, trapped in a casket; he put the feeling aside. Right now, the Doctor was bustling about, going to a redwood wall and opening a panel. He pulled out a rectangular device, then dashed to the doors.

"Come on!"

"Wait!"

The Doctor stopped just by the door, an impatient look on his face. "What? This signal might not last forever, we need to hurry."

"I understand," said Gandalf. "However, do you have a cloak that I could borrow? I would prefer to go somewhat incognito, in a sense."

The Doctor's lips thinned, and he scratched his head. "Alright, fine. There's a wardrobe, down the corridor, to the left, up some stairs, to the right, down two flights of stairs, thirteenth right, and first left, trust me, you can't miss it."

Gandalf thanked him, and took off, nearly running down the corridors. The Doctor's words proved untrue, however; for when Gandalf took the first left, he stumbled into the largest wardrobe he had ever come across. He nearly stumbled over the railing!

Clothes stretched out along racks for hundreds of metres. The room was as intricate as the console room. There were six floors, each dedicated to a different type of clothing. Gandalf frowned at the immense size. He could spend days in here and not find what he wanted!

But as he turned, his eye caught sight of a large, wide-brimmed hat, dark blue, on top of an elf-like grey cloak; they were both quite like his clothes in the days of Middle-Earth, when he was the Grey, yet not yet stained or worn out by his millennia of use. Gandalf eyed the clothes suspiciously. Was this the Tardis' doing? Had she anticipated this, perhaps? He felt a sudden humming beneath his boots, as though the ship was telling him: "Yes and no."

He set his curiosity aside for now and donned the clothes; there would be time enough later. Then he ran back to the Doctor.

"I like your new outfit," said the Doctor. "You look like a proper wizard now. But that was rather quick, wasn't it?"

"I cannot take all the credit," said Gandalf. "Your instructions were off the mark."

The Doctor frowned. "Really? How so?"

"It was the first left."

"Oh! Hah, no no no no, the Tardis must've moved it," said the Doctor. "She's always doing that sort of thing. Anyway, come on. We need to hurry, the signals getting thready." The curious young man ran off, his tailcoat flapping in the wind. Gandalf hurried after him.

Their location turned out to be a large city at dusk, full of soaring skyscrapers, towers as tall as Orthanc. Windows dotted every level, and the towers were blinking with lights of every colour; they were dim for now, but would grow brighter as the night grew darker. A multi-coloured fountain sat to the left; people were flicking coins into it. Lamps stood over roads, tall as trees, burning with every colour in the rainbow.

Trees were there as well, many of them; they were unknown to him, with leaves of almost perfect circles and bark of yellow and pink. But they seemed to him to be imprisoned; they were too well-maintained, too orderly, for his liking. Not even the farmlands of the Ent-wives, in those days long ago when they yet walked the earth, were ever this orderly!

The paths were covered in moss, but the roads were metal and concrete. There were objects on the roads, whizzing by at phenomenal speeds. Gandalf guessed they were the transportation. Silver, red, blue, grey, green, orange, pink, brown, white; all these colours and more went by in a near flash.

Gandalf stood, amazed. He was on another planet, in another universe, in another civilization. He hadn't been on another planet since, oh! at least since the Valar chained the Enemy in the Halls of Mandos. And back then, he had seldom gone arrayed in a body – not as he was now, at least. He had taken often the form of a gust of wind, as he remembered.

It took Gandalf a moment, for the newness of the planet and its beauty had stunned him. The gravity was new, the air was new, the tilt of the planet, how fast it spun, it was all new to the wizard. And there was a strange, but harmless, ubiquitous sensation at the back of his mind; he forgot about it almost at once.

But at last, he got his bearings and ran after the Doctor, who had gone a considerable distance. He noticed absentmindedly that the hat fit him perfectly.

"So, what's it like being on an alien planet?" asked the Doctor.

"Different," said Gandalf, and then immediately, "Tell me, Doctor, when we find the cause of this inter-universal door, will you stop whoever created it?"

"Yes," answered the Doctor, staring intently at the screen. "Whoever made it is from an incredibly advanced alien race, far too advanced for this civilisation. I don't know why they're here, or why they've created the doorway, but it can't be for any good reason."

"Why not?" Gandalf asked.

"Because anyone capable of opening a door, and maintaining said door, between universes must know about the laws of time," said the Doctor. "And they'd know that this civilisation couldn't be allowed to know about this sort of technology. Not ever. The resulting temporal paradox could be catastrophic."

"And how do you know they cannot learn about the technology?" queried Gandalf. "Perhaps that is what time has in store for them."

The Doctor shook his head. "No no no no. My people are very particular…" he trailed off briefly, frowning at the device, then smacking it. "About time. If this society was meant to learn about this sort of technology, then I would know. I daresay I'd have annoyed them before."

A sudden thought occurred to him, and he stopped so suddenly Gandalf nearly didn't notice.

"Unless…" he frowned, and tilted his head as though considering a thousand unknown variables. "Unless someone came across an alien piece of technology. Guardian technology, maybe? Doesn't matter. I'd still have to stop them. No matter which way I look at this, it always turns out bad."

He started off again, as suddenly as he stopped, and then stopped again, just as he reached Gandalf. His frown changed to disbelief and annoyance. "Oh, no, no-no-no-no, come on. Why? Why does this sort of thing always happen?"

He backed up a few paces, staring at the device to the exclusion of all else. Then he went forward again. He repeated this a few times, then went right, over to the other street, somehow avoiding the transportation whizzing by, and repeated the process.

"So, I've got good news and bad news," said the Doctor. "Which do you want to hear first?"

"The bad."

"I've lost the trace," said the Doctor. "It's fizzled out, you might say. There's another energy field, but I can't trace it. I can only go along the edges."

"And the good news?"

"In a star system about four lightyears from here, a brand-new species of butterfly has been created in a laboratory, and is about to save a planet," he said, smiling like a child.

Gandalf raised his eyebrows. Radagast would like that. "That is good news. But regarding the bad news, what do we do now?"

The Doctor shrugged, dropping the scanner in his pocket. "What do you think?"

The wizard arched an eyebrow. "I think I should not be too quick to make any plans, until I am more accustomed to this new world of yours."

"Wise," remarked the Doctor. "I was thinking we go for a walk, enjoy the sights. Maybe go up one of those nice skyscrapers, take in the night-time view."

Gandalf gave him a sideways look. "And perhaps discover the shape of the energy field."

The Doctor smiled. "Yes, that too. But come on, you haven't been on an alien planet in a while, have you? Don't you want to see the sights?"

Gandalf let out a sharp laugh, barely restraining himself; he was beginning to enjoy the company of this Doctor. "I did not say 'no!' Doctor. I will go with you, and we shall see the sights, and speak of what we may whilst you fiddle with your scanner. But I ask this: why not just ask someone? A project of this capacity and ambition must be enormous in size, and in fame."

"Good point," said the Doctor, inclining his head. He turned and they walked down the road. "Not necessarily always in fame, some people like their secrets. And if the person responsible has some terrible plan in mind, then it'll be secret."

"Then we can easily rule out one or the other, then," said Gandalf quickly.

"Yes, but we can't really do anything until tomorrow," the Doctor said as they turned down an alley. "You haven't arrived yet." They turned again. "If we do anything too blatant now, we might stop the portal from opening, and—"

"That would cause a paradox," interrupted Gandalf. "Yes, I take your point. Very well, then. Let us explore the city for the night."

The Doctor had adjusted the scanner so that it would beep every time the signal appeared and disappeared. That way, he could focus on other things. Such as who this Gandalf fellow was. He was familiar, so familiar. Like a distant cousin, a few times removed. Why did he feel so familiar?

Time Lords were given the Rassilon Imprimatur at the Academy. It mapped them onto the time vortex and allowed them to sense other Time Lords in close proximity, unless they were hiding. Gandalf wasn't a Time Lord, but there was a closeness to time that made him seem so very Time Lord-ish.

Well, he was a higher dimensional being, so there was that. And if he was like other higher dimensional beings that the Doctor had met, he was hiding something; if he was like any other Time Lord he knew, he was hiding something. But there was trustworthiness to the old wizard-like fellow. He'd met other higher dimensional beings: Eternals, the Guardians, more than a few Chronovores. And don't even get him started on the Great Old Ones; Fenric, the Great Intelligence, the Nestene Consciousness. None of them were like Gandalf.

Perhaps it was that gleam in his eye. That mysterious, adventurous gleam, brimming with life and wonder and intelligence. He was like a companion and a Time Lord all at once.

He's almost like me, the Doctor thought suddenly, a feeling of wonder and fear coming over him.

Or perhaps it was something else entirely, who knew? He'd wait for now. Wait, keep his thoughts to himself, and act like he knew nothing.

"What's your universe like?" he asked all of a sudden. It was quite dark now, and there were people of dubious intent lurking about. Most of them probably noticed Gandalf's large stick and sword. Wasn't there an earth leader who'd be proud? How'd it get so dark all of a sudden? He must've lost track of time.

"Hmm? Oh, well, let me think," said Gandalf. "I would call it wonderful. Valinor, my home, is as close to paradise as is possible, as close to heaven. The people there do not labour for wealth, nor they do not want or need it. They work on what they love."

"A paradise indeed," said the Doctor. "What about the rest of your universe?"

"Oh, it has its ups and downs," said Gandalf. "The realm of Arda is my chief concern, and the lands of Gondor and Arnor has been prosperous, ever since I left it some two thousand years ago, but its decline, as in nigh on all things, is inevitable. None of them have reached the stars, yet, but it's only a matter of Time."

"It always is."

Beep!

They turned, and Gandalf asked him about his home. "My home? Well, my home's the Tardis, to be honest. I'm something of a renegade, you see. My own planet was a little like yours, except completely and utterly boring, and I hated it there."

He stopped. They had been walking for a fair while now. He checked his sonic screwdriver. Good, he had nearly enough data to make an accurate enough calculation of the interference field. Just one more bit of information to gather. He wondered if Gandalf could see anything he couldn't.

"Let's go up there," he said, pointing to a tall tower, shaped like a thin pyramid, like most of the buildings here, on the far side of the city. "We can go have dinner, and you can tell me more about your universe. There should be rooms for us as well." He put away the scanner and the sonic and made off in a sudden dash.

Thither they went, arriving at about midnight. While Gandalf was admiring the place, somewhat wrapped up in it all, the Doctor acquired a nice table, up on the balcony, and a suite.

He guided Gandalf into the elevator, smiling at the bemused Gandalf. The doors closed, and the Doctor said, "I take it they don't have elevators in Valinor."

"What for?" asked Gandalf. "Neither the Eldar nor my own kind are impressed by notions of size or distance. A thousand steps are as impressive as ten steps."

"But it's quicker," said the Doctor.

"Perhaps," said Gandalf. "But there is seldom a sense of urgency in Valinor."

"Who are your people, by the way?" he asked. Gandalf seemed to consider this.

"They're known as the Istari," he said. "I am one of the Istar. In this language, it might translate better into the word wizard, but the word simply means Wise One's in Quenyan."

"I see," said the Doctor. He knew that kind of talk all too well. Gandalf wasn't lying, not at all. He was just being nice and meticulous about what truth's he was telling. Fair enough, he couldn't get too annoyed at the tactic.

A ding sounded, just before the doors opened. "Right, here we go," said the Doctor, dashing to a pair of dark, wooden doors. They were at the top of the tower, nearly. Any higher and they'd be on the roof. They were sat in their own room, allowing for nearly absolute privacy – there were vacuums in between each room so that no soundwaves could move through. The room itself was ten metres in diameter, with stairs leading down to the table. The wall was made of wood and glass; the first quarter of the wall was wood, almost as tall as a Númenórean and intricately carved, and the rest glass. The wood gave way to glass doors, opening to a balcony, to let the view of the city in.

Thanks to the extensive privacy, the room was thoroughly cleaned after each visit.

The Doctor is quite elven in appearance, thought Gandalf suddenly as his new friend hopped down the stairs. Indeed, it seemed there was little that separated him from an elf. His height, perhaps, was most notable. But in most other aspects, he was quite elfish; indeed, his hair was long and curly, reaching down to broad shoulders, and not too different from Ingwë, though his hair was golden; the Doctor's hair was a lighter brown, as though the soil of Yavanna's fields had captured the light of the sun. His movements had a gracefulness to them, practised, almost – as though he knew some of what he would do some time ago; and his spirit was strong, burning almost like Fëanor's burnt.

Then, he could pass also for an unusually tall Hobbit, with how hasty he is, thought Gandalf. Or perhaps a Maiar of Oromë; they can barely stay still for an hour, and you can never find them where they're reported to be. And then there's his spirit...

He showed Gandalf to a table, which had rather cosy chairs. The Doctor sat down and looked out on the city. "Beautiful, isn't it?"

Gandalf looked out. The city was aglow with lights, the towers littered with branches and stars of swirling patterns. Bright fountains were scattered about on the ground. The lamps were green, gold, white, blue, red. From here, Gandalf could see quite clearly a grove of trees on the edge of the city, growing freely about a lake. A wide river ran down the far left, branching down to the lake. There were boats, and light danced upon them as well, great shafts flickering hither and thither.

"Yes, I dare say it is." The only shame, and it was, Gandalf supposed, an inevitable shame, was that the stars in the night sky were difficult to see. "Although I had hoped to see the stars more easily."

"Yes, that's one of the pities about cities," said the Doctor, apparently not even noticing his own rhyme. "I know a nice place, though. It's in space, and you have to go to the right point in time, but you can see more stars from that vantage point than in nearly any other point in history. The view only lasts about ten or so million years, which isn't very long in a cosmic timescale."

Gandalf raised his eyebrows. "Perhaps we shall visit it, Doctor."

"Yes," said the Doctor. "If we can't get you back home, I think I'll take you there – see how similar they are. Now, do something for me, would Gandalf? Wait here."

"Where are you going, Doctor?" asked Gandalf. "To the roof?"

The Doctor nodded. "I spotted a door leading up there."

"I did as well," said Gandalf. "I remember it read 'staff only' in big, bold letters."

The Doctor frowned. "Would that stop you, Gandalf?"

"No," assured the wizard. "But it would be locked, and I saw no 'old-fashioned' lock. How will you break in?"

"I'm not going to break in," pouted the Doctor. "I have a few tricks up my sleeves, you know."

With that he headed off, leaving Gandalf to sit and wait. He took out his pipe and started to smoke, blowing smoke rings of all different colours hither and thither. After a while he summoned all the smoke to the centre of the table, and fashioned a copy of the 'Tardis.'

The Tardis; what an interesting name, thought Gandalf. I shall have to ask the Doctor what it means.

But for now, Gandalf opened the doors and waved the smoke out. He stood upon the balcony, gazing out upon the city. Where, in all this wonder, could one hide the technology to open a door—

He shook his head. That would be the Doctor's question. His question was the other one: was this a secret task, or was it public? Who else knew of it?

Perhaps he could do as he was wont when he was in Middle-Earth (and oftentimes in Valinor), and just wander about, keeping an ear out for anything worth listening to. And an eye out for anyone worth investigating.

But before he could go anywhere, the waiter arrived. "Excuse me sir, can I get you anything?"

Gandalf went back in and looked at the menu. He chose two drinks and two interesting sounding meals. Then, when the waiter left, he poked his head out the doors, looking towards the doors with the 'staff only' sign.

Well, no sign of the Doctor, he thought. He'd have to leave a note. Since he had neither pen nor paper, he went to the table and put his hand on it, moving it slowly to the right. When he removed his hand, there was burnt onto the table:

Waited a while. Will return. Wait here for my return.

G.

With that out of the way, Gandalf grabbed his staff and went out to sneak around.

Oh, of course he's gone, thought the Doctor glumly. Five minutes, ten minutes, that was too much, wasn't it?

"One day," said the Time Lord aloud, resigned hope in his voice. "One day I'll have a companion that actually listens to me. Well, might as well wait. Nice trick, burning a message into the table, but I pity the poor cleaner who has to deal with it."

"I wouldn't worry overmuch," spoke a sudden voice from behind him. The Doctor spun around, startled, then put a hand on his chest. It was only Gandalf. "I intend to remove it now anyway. And I think you'll find, if you remember your words, that I did listen to you."

The Doctor frowned. "Remember my... oh. Oh, I see. And I suppose you thought you were being terribly clever. So, what did you get up to, sneaking off like that?"

Gandalf chuckled. "Be kind to an old man, and let us eat first."

As though he had commanded it, there came a ring at the door. "Come in," said the Doctor, and a waiter entered carrying two platters of food and drinks. He set them down on the table and swiftly left.

"That was quick," stated Gandalf, apparently surprised. The Doctor didn't believe him for a yoctosecond.

Nevertheless, they sat down and ate. The food was good, and the drinks quenched a thirst the Doctor didn't realise was there. Once he finished, he sat back contentedly. Gandalf quickly removed the markings, as he promised.

"So," he said.

"One more moment," said Gandalf. The Doctor sighed. Chuckling at the Doctor's misery, Gandalf got out his pipe and put some sort of weed in it. He then created a small, dancing green flame that hovered over his finger. It leapt to his pipe like a rabbit, and the weed burnt, and Gandalf smoked.

"There," he began. "Now we can talk. You, I suspect, went to the roof to discover more about the energy field. What did you learn?"

Surprisingly business-like, thought the Doctor. Clearly, Gandalf was used to this. But what sort of investigating had he ever needed to do? "Well, I discovered that the height of the field is greater than the length and the width, which is interesting; it suggests that the experiment is done in a tower or skyscraper. Part of it is probably underground to avoid excessive vibrations, but likely some of it is above. It's certainly a very extensive project. And what about you?"

"I learnt that the project is publicly known," said Gandalf. "I learnt that the leader of the project, Phalrn Durni, appears to have been driven to obsession with the project. He is working his employees to the bone. Or heartwood, as it was. He has also retired from public view."

The Doctor raised his eyebrows. "You're good."

"I learnt, also, that the person closest to him, in business terms at least, is one Thuri Mil," said Gandalf. "I also uncovered his work address."

"Good grief!" cried the Doctor. "Do you have a Tardis of your own? When did you learn that?"

Gandalf smiled. "When I dropped some eaves on his conversation with his boss's rival, and when I picked the pocket of said rival." He took out a small card, upon which were a phone number, an email address, and a place of work with calling hours.

"I think you're the most active companion I've ever had," laughed the Doctor. "So, we have a lead, then. I'll still do the calculations, not for any reason other than fun. I think we ought to go to our rooms, and then tomorrow we'll look around for Mr Thuri."

The Doctor gave Gandalf instructions to get to their room and their key. He then dashed off to pay.

Hello all. Hope you've enjoyed this little instalment of my story. Hopefully, it clears up some things in the previous chapter. Please leave a review, and perhaps some constructive criticsm.

Archangel Xireon Chaos God: I'm glad my work can be so motivating. Keep it up.