* Gandalf regarded Andreth and Nardol, answering them both at once. The woman noticed the hesitancy in Gandalf's right hand as he lit a pipe. She sensed that this hesitancy did not come from the stone that had recently hit that hand, but rather from his reluctance to address the topic she'd brought up. The Elf noticed the hint of grimness in Gandalf's smile. *
Yes Nardol, being a wizard has its advantages. Shagdug would never drag me away to offer me as a prisoner at the Castle. Not if he were steeped in wizard lore, for I'm able to withstand ... what I suspect we're facing. Yet the very nature of my strength carries with it weakness, for I am likely the one Maladil will dread seeing most of all. My message of freedom will fall bitterly on his ears, I fear. For you see, Andreth, it sometimes happens that those imprisoned seek comfort by imprisoning others. Thus, Maladil imprisons his kin and servants. And his kin and servants in turn imprison others.
As for Birdland, I'm certain she'll accept your apology, Andreth, and you'll come to understand her in time. She reminds me of a friend of mine from the Vales of Anduin, near the western eaves of Mirkwood.
* Gandalf brightened again on remembering Beorn. Pipe in his mouth, smoke curling upwards, he reached down into his pouch where he'd placed the letter for safekeeping. Finding it, he nodded satisfaction and strode towards a now-quiet wooded edge of camp. On his way there, he bowed a greeting of mingled surprised concern and well-wishes to Volondil on seeing the Ranger up and around. Gandalf spoke to Bethberry as he neared the campfire about the prospect of dinner, promising to come help her with the cooking in a few minutes. *
* At the forest's edge, unable to resist, a mischievous gleam sparked by Birdland's earlier words came into the wizard's eyes. In a calm, clear ringing tone he called out, "Oh Midnight --- tea is being served!" Meanwhile, he reached out strongly with his mind to the black steed with the word "COME." It was not a Word of Command, but rather a light-hearted enthusiastic request. Faster than wind through the grass Midnight darted into camp at a full gallop and stopping precisely at Gandalf's side, nudging against him, capered like an untrained puppy brought to heel. Faster than Gandalf could warn Nardol not to harm the war steed came Midnight, but also faster than Nardol could raise a weapon against the creature. *
* Gandalf then settled himself down on a log a little ways into the wood, his thick, grey cloak protecting against the rough, peeling bark. Cracking open the seal, Gandalf opened the letter and read it by the light of his staff. It had been openly understood that Gandalf should read the letter from Elrond, even though it was addressed not to him but instead to the Lady Galadriel. Midnight had tagged along and stood a little ways off, chomping away at a patch of greensward within the soft circle of light. *
[ December 09, 2002: Message edited by: Gandalf_theGrey ]
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