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The White Council

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Walküre:
The Lady of Light stood silent and in great attention. She listened carefully to every word spoken since the opening of that noble assembly. But she was not ready to intervene yet, not at that initial stage, for she rather focused on divining the sincere intentions of those authoritative guests. No way would the Lady have been tempted to intrusive actions or ill-intentioned curiosity, though her mental prowess was too mighty to ever be constrained totally; any imperceptible gesture, any quick thought or any expression of worry, even from the most imperturbable one, couldn't escape her sensational skills. Her gaze was in fact moving with grace from guest to guest. Not all the participants realised to be the interest of Galadriel; but some did perceive it.

Círdan answered back with a long stare, of equal essence of those that the host of the meeting and the Elf-queen were used to exchanging between each other. He then gave her a nod and smiled. Glorfindel bowed slightly and allowed her to reach the deep immensity of his Elven memories. It eventually was the turn of Gandalf, who had just finished to address the council about his personal views. It was indeed the right time to act: while the others immersed themselves in following the friendly greetings of the representatives of Lindon, she projected her powers towards the Grey Pilgrim and conveyed to him words that no one else could have heard.

''Your pure heart speaks the truth, loyal Mithrandir. The woods are ill. An insidious venom is poisoning those lands, that, alas, lie beyond my protection. I can clearly sense it: heinous Magic.''

Long nights of doubts and alert she had spent, while her mind patrolled every corner of her safe realm and even the right shore of the Anduin. Foul beasts had always wandered throughout those wild forests, but this time many of different shapes and evil kind had been gathering nearby what was then renamed the 'Hill of Sorcery'; shadows that only Nenya was capable of fending off. The very emanations of that eerie fortress in ruin had spread in its vicinities, causing anything alive to wither and die. The obscure territories of that region were now contrasting evidently with the beauty of the Golden Wood and the hidden dwellings within it. All these memories were in Gandalf's head now, as he himself had beheld them; nothing of her thoughts resembled even remotely some haunting nightmares though, but rather a clear narration of emotions, colours, sounds and events. Set aside the alarming content of the vision, the wizard was immensely delighted to have been granted the honour of such shared experience and so remained in profound contemplation: the extraordinary sight of the Lady of Lórien moved past lands and rivers swiftly, as wild winds blow loosely over the surface of the vast waters of Arda.

At her dismay, she was proven right as she discovered that the judgement of the Woodland King ended up being clouded by fear; something that his herald's thoughts didn't manage to conceal. The attention of the head of the Istari, on the other hand, was still focused elsewhere, as if he were stuck in retrieving lost relics of the past and their inner mysteries.

The_Necromancer0:
Saruman was deep within his thoughts when he sensed the the mind of Galadriel probing his. His attention turned entirely to her, he was not pleased by this intrusion in his mind but more yet he feared what she could have decrypted the small stream of thoughts that escaped him. His fear was replaced by a mild annoyance, he had believed that his mental barriers should have served as a warning that he did not wish, nor would allow such analysis of his mind. Maybe it was time the Lady of Lorien tasted a bit of her own elvish medicine.

"You wish to know what is upon my mind? So be it, look and despair for I have seen many things."

With these words he opened the gate of his mind, although he still kept many things secret. In his mind some of the deepest fears that he had before always kept to himself, for they would have cast despair into the heart any that would have seen them. Galadriel witnessed, through the mind of Saruman which was apt in crafting of all sorts, the retaking of the Ring by Sauron. She saw him march out the Black Gate and over the Dead Marshes, and beneath his feet the ground turned to fire. She saw the White Tree of Minas Tirith burn as the gates of the city were thrown down. She witnessed as armies from the three Kindreds were assailed and fought desperate battles over their lands and for their people. Amidst all this horror she saw Lothlorien burning, the land she had kept safe all this time set aflame by dark magic.

"Now that you have seen what I fear, understand what I say. My means may appear evil but my intentions are only to preserve this land, that is my mission. I will not suffer that you enter my mind for my thoughts are danger to all that seek to understand them. What say you?"

His gaze left hers and he focused once again on the council, leaving her with this question. The meeting had kept going with the herald of Mirkwood explaining the current situation.

Walküre:
Her reply was quick as lightning, catching the Istar almost by surprise. Now, the thoughts of the wizard were turned by her might into a single continuous stream of dazzling memories; hers.

All of a sudden, Saruman was conducted in her mind as a traveller from afar, through pride, fiery resolution, doubts, ambitions, unspeakable sorrows and ancient horror. Some kind of horror that anyone from the Third Age of Middle-earth would have deemed impossible to bear; every of those very otherworldly images would nonetheless drive every common being into outright desperation. The Lady knew perfectly, though, that the White Wizard could have witnessed that without repercussions of any sort, given his own blessed nature. His mental barriers were solid indeed, but no way was Galadriel intended to pierce them (albeit having the power to do it), lest this be interpreted as a direct harm and ultimately result in a counter-productive 'telepathic clash'. It's no doubt that he was briefly under the effect of her initiative anyway, not being able to learn anything useful for his purposes, while being briefly a passive spectator of what she thought appropriate to show him for her own purposes instead.

The rapid apparition went in reversed order and thus displayed itself from the then contemporary events to lost times in the centuries of Arda, becoming more and more evanescent as it got closer to the past. Nevertheless, any of her Elven emotions was alive as an immortal flame that never goes out, and it was them which eventually struck the head of the Istari.

The long nocturnal vigilance of Lothlórien's borders of Galadriel shifted to the founding of the Golden Wood itself and the first sowing of the colossal Mallorn Trees, until her deep apprehension as brutal wars were waged in the Second Age of the World and, before, the widespread destruction of the apocalyptic Cataclysm that had totally annihilated the legendary Númenórë (the luxuriant Land of Gift). And so, all turned obscure when he lastly beheld the ancestral conflict between Good and Evil in the Elder Days, her mourning for her sad royal kin's misfortunes, her joy in the attendance of the court of Elwë and her angel-queen Melian, the arrival in the rough shore of Beleriand and the terrible passing of the deadly Helcaraxë. Finally, her mind was about to unveil her unknown life before the Sun and the Moon (one of the secrets he always craved), but, at that point, his thoughts went blurred and that flow stopped abruptly, for there were binding restrictions on his and the other four wizards' human-shaped bodies and memories as well; limits that they could never circumvent. What they were only allowed to remember was the mission they were ordered to accomplish by the ones who rule beyond the Sea.

The Lady of Light was obviously aware of such properties of theirs and that vision of hers thus served her very well: Saruman remained in silent yet deep contemplation mixed with awe, having been reminded of whom he was interacting with and that character's true essence. Something he had always longed to know and understand completely anytime his studies (and plans) encompassed the mightiest Elf of the Third Age; the mysterious Sorceress of Dwimordene, as she was named among Men in the vicinities of Rohan. But no resentment was in her successive reply, as they both respected each other greatly and were aiming to the same end (even via substantially different means). She had always been recognised by unanimity as the real leading figure towering over the Wise, yet the Lady had never sought for any effective position of power (even less for a predominance in authority) and ever used her clout to support others in a quite detached attitude. She knew well that the destinies of Middle-earth were not to be in her hands either way.

''There is no ill will towards thee, industrious and skilled Curunír. I and my kin as a whole have always been bound to face the evil of Arda in all its forms, and even more horrible in might and propositions. I can clearly sense your heartfelt concern, but now we ought not to be uncertain in our path and in the choice this noble assembly is to make, for it will shape the whole course of this continent's fate. Our quest demands strength and effective weapons to be armed with; beware, though, of the one without staunch resolution and principles, as its path might often falter and be twisted amidst the tide''.

It would be unbelievable to think that such an exchange had taken place in so little time and quietness, with the other guests not realising it at all, if we weren't dealing with the chief of the Istari and the Lady of Lórien. She held him in considerable consideration, even though she had never really tried to convince herself that he was one of the 'decisive personalities' that the Good had been waiting for so long. Their very personal relationship was not in the best of the terms. She nonetheless hoped from the depth of her heart that nothing would have hindered their mission and that he genuinely was, as Mithrandir was used to saying, the 'formidable wise we can eventually rely on'; particularly, after she had now foreseen that the White Wizard's interest for lost forbidden artefacts would have inexorably increased in the decades to follow (though she wasn't yet sure about the overall outcome of this aspect). In redirecting her primary attention to the meeting, she found relief in the decision she had once took to avoid that the leading wizard knew the secret of the Three.

Her Elven ears had not stopped to pay attention to the development of the discussion. The ambassador of the Woodland Kingdom was in fact justifying his king's imperturbable stance on isolation from the outer affairs, mentioning the awakened shadows of Mirkwood and the consequent need of firm defence. Galadriel was aware that Thranduil, safely in his hidden halls, had grown much resentful and cold, in a forlorn wish to do without the forthcoming threats of the future to come. Events that shall determine what will be of his own people and realm too, willinglyy or unwillingly; as everyone else of the Free People would have finally been put in front of the final challenge.

As the debate went on, she felt that her time to stand up and participate was getting really closer.

The_Necromancer0:
The Elf's reply was something Saruman had no expected, he had been prepared for her to either lower her gaze or counterattack with her mental powers but what she had done he had not been ready for. For a brief moment, feeling fought in his heart a wish for revenge, awe before an impressive foe and something else, darker than both. But Saruman's mind was still pure although his desire of mastery was ever growing and therefore, faced by such as respectable foe, the Head of the Istari, the Skilled One, the White Wizard, let a smile appear upon his face, a gesture so faint only the all-seeing eyes of Galadriel were able to catch it. The Lady of Lorien had earned more respect from the Wizard than anyone ever upon this Middle-Earth. Her participation should be interesting to watch...


The_Necromancer Small note: I just double checked, since this is the first meeting, Saruman has not taken residence in Isengard yet.

DieWalküre Thank you for the clarification: I edited my post.

Fine:
While the envoy of the Woodland Realm was nearing the end of her report, Gandalf found himself deep in thought, while keeping up the appearance of someone who is actively listening to what was being discussed. He had heard most of the news from Thranduil's kingdom earlier when he visited the forest a few months ago. Instead, his attention shifted towards a small piece of land in the centre of Eriador that had miraculously survived the fall of Arnor: the Sûza, or Shire, the land of the halflings. Its inhabitants had grown dear to the wizard's heart, even though he could not stay for long. Indeed, it was true that he had no home, travelling far and wide between the realms of Elves, Men and Dwarves, ever striving to fight the darkness wherever it threatened the peaceful live of the Free Peoples of Middle-earth. The Secret Fire that kept him going and invigourated his spirit, the gift from Círdan, was a well-hidden treasure that only the other bearers of the Three knew about. The Rings of Air and Water bore the powers of healing, protection and renewal, but Narya was different. It gave him the strength, the energy, the willpower he needed to continue his quest, even as the world grew colder.

More than a thousand years Gandalf had journeyed across Middle-earth, sometimes alongside trusted companions, but most of the times he had been alone. That is why he was glad that the Lady of Lórien had called this meeting. Only united would they be able to face the growing darkness. Finding solace in the comfort of Galadriel, the knowledge of Saruman and the experience of Elrond and Círdan, the Grey Pilgrim searched his heart for the questions that had begun to stir within in the last few years.

"What do we make of these rising threats?" he asked as the Elf from Mirkwood returned to her seat. "Who might be causing them? Could there be a connection between the rumours of war from the South and East as well as the shadow upon the Greenwood? And what of the Nine, seizing Minas Ithil? I may be called wise by some, but I do not feel that my wisdom is enough to answer these questions. We must work together to solve this riddle."

His glance wandered from face to face, seeking answers, while attempting to maintain a guarded expression. The unspoken conversations that had been taking place since the meeting began seemed to intensify. Suddenly, Gandalf realized that he might have spoken too soon, without having heard all the reports from the council's members. Maybe there was something he had overlooked? But the urgency he felt about the matter said otherwise. He took a deep breath, waiting for any responses.

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