~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Saruman arrived like a white falcon darting towards
its prey. Still not a good rider he had outdone himself to arrive at Imladris
as soon as he could. He had set out with three spare horses in tow – beautiful
beasts bred by the Rohirrim, willing to give all.
Still, all the world’s haste
could not shorten the route and Saruman more than once cursed the body he had
wanted so much long time ago for now it hindered him from being at his companion’s
side when truly needed.
Gandalf had been confined to his quarters, with nobody but
Glorfindel and Elrond visiting him. In the beginning he had not minded for he was
weak and slept a lot. But after such a long time the wizard grew impatient and
his temper became quicker. All the books and all his pacing could not keep him
from feeling locked up. Which he truly was. Elrond and
Glorfindel had agreed that only Saruman would be able to tell if Gandalf was
truly unafflicted and his mind without falsehoods after his encounter with whatever
being he had found at Dol Guldur.
So when the door opened at an unusual time the Istar
stopped his attempt to walk a circular ditch into the floor of his lofty room
in the highest tower of Elrond’s house.
“Curumo!” Gandalf’s arms flew
apart to welcome his mate and Saruman did not think twice. At first glance
Gandalf seemed very well and the worries fell off the White Wizard as he threw
himself into the embrace.
“By the grace of the Valar, you are well, Olorin!”
Saruman laughed, Gandalf joining in. “Never worry me so ever again!” the white
one chided the shorter, gray Istar, seeking his eyes, piercing the depths of
the Maia’s soul andfinding no falsehood, no
shadow whatsoever. Gandalf shuddered under the scrutinizing looks yet he did
endure it.
Saruman cupped the clean-shaven cheek “I cannot decide
whether I prefer you like this or in a less civilized state.” Gandalf had the
habit of shaving whenever he was for a longer stay at any elven place, making
his appearance more pleasing to elven eyes. Usually, during his long journeys
he did not bother with such vanity.
“Does it matter?”
“Not really.” Saruman shrugged with a loving smile.
But then he turned serious “Did I not tell you to stay away from Dol Guldur?”
“Somebody had to go.” Gandalf shrugged.
“I told you - nay, I ORDERED you not to!” Saruman
fumed with anger and Gandalf, who had never seen his companion in a mood like
this, took a step backwards. “Can you not follow such simple an order?”
“I beg your pardon, but YOU would not leave your
dwelling, our brothers are out of reach. Pray, tell: who should have gone
instead then?” Gandalf spread his arms in a helpless gesture.
“’Twas nothing to be done without planning. Not only
did you risk your life, nay you endangered our whole mission by revealing
yourself to Sauron.” Saruman spat, stopping only close of calling Gandalf a
fool.
“And how long would you have planned that then? One year, ten? A hundred? Men
quarrel among themselves, so do the Elves and in between the races there is
nothing but distrust. Before we could have planned some kind of joint venture
into Dol Guldur we would have been forced to unite the people. Until then
Sauron would have gathered too much strength and dark creatures to even think
of going there.” Gandalf, who had in the meantime learned
enough twisted tales of mistrust to know such proceedings would have been an
impossible mission. “Nay. What I did was the only sensible
solution.”
“HE knows now that WE are here!”
“So what? He knows of me,
nothing but that. Twisted as his mind is, he might well fear THEY have sent all
of the Maiar into Middle-Earth and that’s why he fled.” Gandalf had had more
than enough time to ponder the results of his excursion during the past weeks
and no matter from what point of view he regarded it, the
outcome wasn’t so bad.
“He could have KILLED you!” Saruman yelled.
Baffled, Gandalf cocked his head. So this was what all
was about. “Curumo… “ he said gently.
“Shattered your fea and you would have ceased to
exist.” Saruman continued his ranting before Gandalf’s changed attitude
registered with him. “What?” he snapped.
“You were scared for me?” a small smile
came crawling out of the wrinkles of Gandalf’s face.
“By Eru, I was!” Saruman confessed with exasperation.
“The idea that you could die – that you could be truly gone forever.....I would
not be able to handle that, Olorin.”
Gandalf took a few quick steps towards the
white-haired figure and embraced him. “I returned and I am unharmed. I wouldn’t
have left you, my love.” He whispered soothingly. He could feel Saruman stiffen
for a moment, then the tall frame relaxed against his
body while Saruman frantically pawed Gandalf, mumbling unintelligible words of
love and fear of loosing his companion.
“I’m here, love.” Gandalf cooed, “everything
is alright. Nobody got hurt. Shhht.”
Saruman pulled back to lock Gandalf’s gaze. A small
teardrop ran down a sharp, aquiline nose and Gandalf leant in to kiss the tiny
droplet away. It tasted of bitter fear pent up for too long.
As if that kiss had been a signal, Saruman caught
Gandalf’s lips with almost desperate need and in no time the two Istari were
caught in a never ending, hungry kiss, lips bruising, teeth
grazing. Their hands made short work of their clothes as they stumbled over to
the bed.
In their frantic state of mind their passion was
explosive like never before and some of the elves indeed thought they heard a
distant thunder in the clear blue sky as both Istari were battling for the
right to be the first to surrender. Their lovemaking was rough and wild,
leaving more than one mark on their skin as they asserted their bond over and
over, bodies entwined in complicated, constantly changing patterns. The wind
carried their heated cries up and over to Taniquetil where their fellows
shuddered with wonder.
++++++++++++++++++
Gandalf wandered through the gardens. It gave him a
great joy and he spent almost every day in the sun-kissed landscape, marveling
at the talent of the Eldar to shape the landscape so gently that it was hardly
even noticed that it was indeed the result of extremely skilful craftsmanship.
Even more he enjoyed watching them work but they seemed always seemed unnerved because
he would simply sit and watch for hours, never asking or commenting. So he kept
that to a minimum.
Saruman was in another discussion with Elrond and
Glorfindel – something that Gandalf was still not quite ready to do again. In
addition he still felt extremely guilty for having actually hurt both elves
while they had rescued him. He was inconsolable and still didn't know how to
compensate them for their sufferings. In short: he still found it hard to face
his friends. So he gladly left that duty to Saruman and instead indulged in the
beauty of Middle-Earth.
Erestor was having a rare moment of idle pleasures: he
sat on a bench and soaked up the warm rays of the afternoon-sun. He had not
dared to approach the wizard but now that the Istar accidentally crossed his
path he tentatively called out: “Olorin?”
Gandalf stopped in his tracks, tilting his head as if he listened to the
echo of the call, then, a wistful smile on his face, he turned around to
greet the elf. "Erestor."
