~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Darkness.
Lack of sensation.
Gandalf sat up with a start, letting out a small cry.
“What is it?” Saruman woke with immediate
bewilderment.
“I can’t see! I can’t feel my arms!”
“What? What happened?” Saruman took a closer look at
Gandalf but he couldn’t find any wrong. The arms were there, so were – “You
need to open your eyes, Gandalf.”
“Open –what? Oh!” He opened his eyes and with immense
relief SAW again. He inspected his arms –they were where they belonged, only
they – they did not feel as if they were his. He tried to move them. It went
reluctantly and it was almost painful to do so.
“Do you think it is always like this?” Gandalf asked
with obvious apprehension. Slowly a tickling feel in his arms grew to an almost
unbearable itching.
“Well, you will have to remind yourself of opening
your eyes.” Saruman answered with a smug smile.
+++
Not very much later they were walking eastwards again.
More than once they complained about the obvious slowness of walking. To turn
their awareness from one point on Arda to any other, no matter how large the
distance, was only a question of wanting ever before. Time never had had a
meaning to the bodiless spirits they had been. Now they painfully learned its
meaning.
Gandalf, who had often watched Middle Earth carried a
rough map in his mind and so they had an idea of where they were and where they
wanted to go. What they did not know was, how long it would take them.
Another thing that had never mattered before were
obstacles. Physical barriers, keeping them from traveling in a straight line
from the Gray Havens to Rivendell. Some of them were small, like
thorny thickets. Some were large, like rivers. And sometimes the smaller
proofed more problematic than the larger ones.
By the end of that day the two wizards looked pitiful:
every patch of bare skin was scratched and their robes were torn in several
places. Saruman had not thought it difficult to walk through a thicket that
broadly barred their way instead of taking a detour of a few leagues. Soon he
was caught in a tangle of thorns and Gandalf had a struggle of his own to free
his dear friend’s robe and beard and hair, and finally himself as well. With
that experience came another: pain.
Nothing of that did help to raise their spirits.
“Ai, Gandalf! All my bones ache.” Saruman flung
himself on the ground. Not a good idea either for the bumps of moss and grass
were not as soft as they looked but overgrown rocks. The wizard stood and
cursed the stones with all spells he knew until a gentle hand on his shoulder
stopped him.
“Don’t waste your breath my dear friend.” Saruman’s
anger evaporated.
“Oh, Gandalf! This is dreary! We will have to learn so
many petty things that will keep us from our mission...” he sighed and shook
his head. Yet he was too proud to excuse for having convinced Olorin to join
him in this adventure.
“Ah! Here, sit. Carefully! There you go. I hope things
will look better once we’ve eaten and the fire warms us.” He unpacked some
sweet fruit they had found on their way and tried to kindle a fire. It would
not work. In the end Gandalf became impatient and stood “Tinta-Naur!” he called
out and the fire was burning.
“Na vedui! You know you could have done that right away, don’t
you?” Saruman grumbled.
“Why, yes. But I wanted to get some practice in the
way of the people here.” Gandalf smiled smugly, sitting down besides his friend.
The fruit was sweet and as soon as they were full both
laid down arm in arm again. The day’s march had tired them very much and they
both were soon asleep.
But not for a long time.
Saruman who had eaten the larger part of their sparse
meal woke with terrible cramps in his stomach. Soon he threw up and retched
until he was completely exhausted. Not too long and Gandalf joined him in the
literally gut-wrenching endeavor. Next was diarrhea and then came the fever. By
sunrise both were so sick they could not get up, not even when a rider came by
in full gallop and reared his horse with a single word “Daro!”
TBC...
