To offer a time-scope to this story, I'm going to say that it occurs in TA 2460. This is the point where Sauron returns to Dol Guldur, although the High Council (Galadriel, Gandalf, Elrond, Saruman, and possibly Radagast) do not discover where his stronghold is located until 2850, the year that Gandalf finds his way into the dungeons of the Necromancer, learns that he is Sauron. and receives the map and key from Thrain. Between Sauron's return and the events of the Hobbit, the kingdom of Eryn Lasgalen descended into the forest of Mirkwood, as the closest area to Sauron's fortress.
Gandalf kept the map and key for ninety years, until he found Thorin and realized that the dwarf he met in Dol Guldur was Thrain. Erebor was retaken in 2941.
At this point, Celebrian is still living in Rivendell with Elrond. She departs for Valinor in 2509.
I started writing this tale in A.D. 2014. It is now A.D. 2016. So you see, on, the ME scale, I really haven't taken that long to update...
Gandalf was led to a white-draped talan overlooking a silver spring, which bubbled up at the roots of a great beech. He had changed his travel-stained robes for the sleeping garments that Cirdan had given him, and laid himself down upon the bed, hoping for a restorative sleep. It seemed that he had hardly closed his eyes when a soft voice sounded behind the heavy curtains that veiled the frame of the talan's walls.
"Mithrandir, the Lady has returned from Isengard and wishes you to see her and lord Celeborn in the Halls of Lore." Rumil swept back the curtains, letting the silver moonlight wash into the room. Gandalf rose, looking toward the skylight.
"The Moon has hardly dimmed her gaze at all," he said. "How many hours has it been? Have I slept a full day?"
"Scarcely two, Mithrandir," said Rumil with some urgency. "And the Lady is sorely tired, for she made the journey to Isengard and back in no more than four days. Yet she wishes you to seek her counsel at once." This last he said in some confusion, for she had never thought it meet to speak with the wizard until he had rested himself. 'Shall I go back and-"
"Nay, nay," said Gandalf, slipping his feet into his boots. "I shall accompany you, Rumil."
They went almost silently through the trees, both of them invisible as if hidden by some witchery. Gandalf's garments shone like yet another patch of climbing fimbrethil, and Rumil's dark hair passed between the boughs as swiftly as a rippling shadow. At last, they came to a hall wrought solely from living trees, its roof trembling as the mallorn leaves rustled in the evening wind. The great trunks and branches had wreathed this way and that beneath the Edain's lilting song, bringing rooms and wooden caverns out of the earth. Rumil led Gandalf to the largest of these, and departed at the door with a bow. Gandalf laid his hand upon the latch and pushed the oaken slab ajar, taking in the sight before him. Galadriel was seated in the centre of the room at a long table, with one white hand supporting her chin as she spoke in low tones with Celeborn.
"Alatáriel, you cannot deny what you saw in the Mirror. You glimpsed the entrance to the Void shattering, and a shapeless form escaping. You know it can be no other."
"Morgoth resides within the Void, as well," said Galadriel, her voice lower than her husband's.
"And he could not-"
"My Lady?"
They turned to see the Istar standing by the door, his carved staff seeming to bear all his weight. He came slowly forward and sank into the seat Celeborn drew for him.
"Something has changed about you, Mithrandir," said Galadriel.
Celeborn's eyes flickered between the two, and Gandalf nodded, knowing that Galadriel would have perceived the change in him immediately. From the moment he and Rumil had come within sight of the Halls of Lore, he had felt her thoughts as clearly as his own, and knew the worry coursing through her mind, brought by the vision she had seen in her mirror.
"Cirdan has departed for the Havens," he said softly.
"But he has not sailed?" asked Celeborn. "The Havens must have their shipwright-who may work in Cirdan's stead?"
"Nay, he remains by the sea," said Gandalf. "The Unquiet of Ulmo has long been stirring in his blood, yet depart he shall not ere the last ship sails. My Lady...my lord Celeborn," he said with some difficulty, "He has passed the Ring of Fire into my keeping."
Galadriel smiled, and extended both her hands toward his own. He twisted Narya's band about his finger, reddening the jewel once again with the shimmer of its secret flame, before moving to remove it.
"No, Mithrandir!" cried Galadriel, her voice rising to the leaves as a billow might, or the melody of wind-chimes hung in a windy wood. "You must never relinquish it from your grasp, until your time comes to gift it to another in your turn, or until the power of the Three is ended as one." She raised her own hand, and for the first time Gandalf beheld the ring Nenya in all its beauty as it wreathed about her middle finger, the ring of water and adamant, forged of the purest mithril in the shape of a mallorn blossom, with six petals set with diamonds so brilliant that they called to mind the light of Elbereth, the most beloved star of the Edain.
"I had long wondered what threw the light you carry about you, my Lady," said Gandalf, bowing his head. "And how it is that you, the first among the Edain to set foot upon Arda, should have such sway upon the works of Ulmo...and yet have guarded yourself against the sea-longing through all these ages."
"How seemed the light to you, my friend?" she asked, folding her hands over his for a moment and then withdrawing them, placing them into her lap.
"It seemed no less bright to me than if you had Varda herself in your grasp, and that I had laid my eyes upon her glow through your fingers," he said, a ghost of a smile lingering about his mouth. "While I have long known that Gil-galad passed Vilya to Lord Elrond, he never confided in me that Cirdan received the other. I thought perhaps that Gil-galad had Nenya in his possession as well, and gave it to yet another."
"I have had Nenya in my keeping since the morn that Celebrimbor drew it from the forges and plunged it into a trough of water," she said, a lilt of mirth coloring her tones. "You and I are kin now, Mithrandir, for we together may call the aid of flame and the mighty seas."
"And it is Nenya which gives vision to your mirror?" asked Gandalf, having long been puzzled over this mystery. At her nod, his confusion deepened. "But how?"
"The basin was wrought from the crucible that Celebrimbor used to forge the ring," Galadriel said. "When it is touched by the water of the Anduin, it gains a power like to the palantiri, although how it is, even I cannot say. Celebrimbor never revealed all of the magicks behind his craft, and it is a mercy he kept them hidden, else that deceiver Annatar should have found them out."
"Should you not tell Olorin of what you have seen, Alatariel?" asked Celeborn, entwining his fingers with his wife's.
"I have naught to tell," she said. "You know that the Three are bound to each other, the works of one connected to the souls of those who bear the other," she answered. "I received the vision but five days past-Cirdan gave Narya to Mithrandir that very day, did he not?"
"He did indeed."
"And what do you make of it?" asked Celeborn urgently. "The Lady believes that it was Morgoth who fled the Void, but I believe it must be his thrice-accursed lieutenant. The Valar have bound Melkor far too closely for him to follow his servant."
"I do not doubt that Sauron could muster the power to escape the Void," said Gandalf slowly. "After all, Melkor must have spent an age feeding Gorthaur his darkest arts-if they had been parted, neither one of them might have the chance to enter Arda once more. But you must know the prophecy of Morgoth, made after he was first bound with the great Chain in the days after the Ainulindale."
"I have forgotten," confessed Galadriel.
Celeborn's eyes widened, and he met Gandalf's gaze with a look of dawning horror. "The prophecy that Melkor should escape the bonds of the Valar yet once more, and be slain by none other than Túrin Turambar, son of Hurin."
Gandalf nodded gravely.
"Indeed."