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The White Council

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Walküre:
The council has almost come to its conclusion. The majority of its members have decreed to stick to the line of its chief. Saruman has in fact preferred a moderate strategy, comprising increased surveillance of the borders surrounding the southern woods of Mirkwood, although he deems any military operation a too risky of a move. Thus, sentinels were ordered to linger and keep a careful watch over those perilous ways. Yet, in no way was such plan meant to face the threat in meaningful manners; the White Wizard had already dismissed the eventuality of Sauron getting his hands on his One Ring once again. The artefact he longs for with unceasing desire. The key for his return in the world. And Saruman secretly knew that the Ruling Ring had not been carried to the sea by the river. Therefore, focusing on patrolling was in his mind the best means via which he could observe his rival's doing. Because Sauron had clearly become for the Istar a rival to surpass, instead of an enemy whom the forces of Light just had to vanquish for the general sake. And this goes without saying that Gandalf was more and more doubtful about his superior fellow. Suspicion then began to grow and be pervasively rooted in the Grey Pilgrim's thoughts. A very recurrent of a grim sensation that could only bode ill. For it was simply manifest, at that time, how the interest of Saruman for the lore of the Rings of Power was not at all the one of a wiseman, as it should have been in truth.

Walküre:
At the end of the council. Saruman is busy conversing with Elrond and reassuring him that vigilance was truly the best of the options.

Gandalf sat alone in quietness. His mind was altered and deeply torn inside. He knew that the decision the council of the Wise had made would be to bring woes to the Free People as a whole. Hiding behind towers and patrols could not be the just way! The Evil would simply have continued growing bolder within the dungeons of that eerie fortress. They had discovered that the Dark Lord was again assembling his means. Means of war and meant to wreak havoc in this new era. An era of relative peace, disturbed by turmoil in the mysterious East, exotic South and bitter North. Even the fall of the Ancient Kingdom in the northernmost lands of Middle-earth had not worried the Grey Wizard at that extent, for that was a domain doomed to be broken apart by envy and discord; the Wise knew that, as long the southern realm of Men would last and bear the brunt of time, the world could feel relieved and safe. But Men were again faltering and struggling to keep the pace of the ending age, as was their leadership: wobbly and unstable, weak, feeble and dreading to take the needed measures to counter the threat.

And what about the very White Council, guardian of the balance of powers in the region and ultimate judge? Its leadership was treading the path of doubt as well, but the situation was in truth grimmer and far worse than mere mistakes of judgement. Saruman had grown obsessed with the lore of the lost Rings of Power. Obsessed with their forbidden potency and with their influence on the fates of the world. That could only have meant one thing, a single conclusion: beside the Three that were being kept secret by the Wise, all the other artefacts of such kind were either lost or destroyed. The chief of the council was therefore likely to seek the One Ring, which, as Gandalf feared and suspected, had not passed on to the great sea. It was lingering in the world, secretly kept by unknown hands, posing a general menace for anyone deeming life worthy and precious. The White Wizard had foolishly chosen to follow a path with no fortunate outcome: the longing of power, by means of the foulest heirloom that was ever conceived. A one-time wise leader was looking at the Enemy as a rival to surpass in might, and not as a fire that needed be extinguished.

The Grey Pilgrim took up his beloved pipe of old, smoking that comforting weed for which he had often been mocked by his superior fellow. Meandering among the tension of his hundreds of thoughts, he blew some smoke out of his mouth, shaping it and directing its flow, until that breath was fashioned in the guise of multiple rings that floated above. Then, the Istar tried to grab those nearly immaterial figures; figures which immediately dissolved and faded away, as faded away the pride of whom desired their possession and tenure. And all the scene did not go unnoticed, for Saruman had been staring at his lesser companion all time and this Gandalf knew well.

The visage of the White Wizard darkened and the leader of the assembly began to boil in anger and resentment, for the Grey Wizard had guessed rightly and clear. The buoyant wanderer had guessed whither the chief of his order was directed and whither his obsession would eventually lead him.

Walküre:
The council is ended. All guests are preparing to part from Rivendell and head to their respective residence. Saruman is the first to abandon the meeting and journey back to his mansion. The White Wizard offered no kind words in his departure and simply left the scene, resembling a nasty storm passing across far mountains on the horizon; immersed in his enigmatic thoughts and schemes. On the other hand, as the chief was taking the route of return, Elrond got closer to Gandalf and exchanged some final words of sincere greetings, showing worrying preoccupations and doubts.

ELROND: ''I had hoped for a better conclusion, I assure you. And I feel like seconding your reasoning, Gandalf. We had fair evidence that Sauron is once again at work in this world and his goal is obviously the chaining of all that we know; never has it been different from such kind of outcome. Whenever his shadow began to creep out from the ignorance of this earth, war was ever close to all and ready to infuriate against these old shires of ours. But this time the tide is turning in a different manner, my gentle friend. The true reason of your coming here will soon be satisfied for good, for this clash is to be the final one of this age. It's not the time yet, although I clearly sense that it's solely a matter of counting the remaining years before the storm. A storm shall rage indeed and its end I cannot foresee nor foretell, alas. Our only duty is the safeguarding of peace, now, and we must also set the most inquisitive watch over all the happenings we have knowledge of. The current disposition of the council will help put forward this strategy: if we can't act and wage war, we shall at least wait on our side and stay well vigilant.

I don't know if the One will ever be retrieved. The Evil is nonetheless back and none may question this very apparent of a fact. This world has still hope and people have hope for the future too, provided that one will rise and bear the burden of leadership, when the old authority of the past has waned and dwindled in stringent need. You know of whom I speak, Grey Wizard. His time will come, at the end of the tale. In the midst of these grey days, my kind is leaving these shores and reaching the true home that is apt for our glory and endless life within the circles of Eä. Henceforth, Men are to take and accept the responsibility to face the next darkness, soon to cast its illusions on our free lands. In the good and in the bad, a definitive decision will have to be made and it is to determine the course of this story.''

Walküre:
GANDALF: ''Whether Sauron shall have the object of his yearning or not, his forces will rapidly grow at a pace we cannot even now fathom or fully comprehend. The abysses of Mordor are vomiting out all sorts of foul beings; the watch of Gondor is over and the very Men are retreating behind those fortifications of stone that they deem secure and resistant for an assault. What they fail to see is the vagueness of their propositions, not backed by witty leadership. This is for sure. Soon, very soon, the Black Land will have turned into an ocean of turmoil and apprehensive hurry, for their master demands an army to be built in the shortest passing of time, knowing very well how no other adversary in the world could contend his will for return. While the sorcerer awaits our moves in the eerie fortress amidst thick woods, his minions do not waste time and labour unceasingly within the borders of that cursed land; whither the Dark Lord is bound to head, at the end of this skirmish between the two shores. The plague is fostering its advantage and ruthless course. Even with Sauron diminished and lessened in might, we are doomed to be overcome and outnumbered. This is how the wheel of our fate is turning and it does so very fast.

The eastern routes are no longer safe to pass through. It is not only Orcs or other ill-natured beasts. Lies and deceit have breached the feeble hearts of many human tribes there; weak Men, but not in the sense that Saruman would give. They wander without a certain scope and captives they are of their own voluble temper. They are very likely to fall prey of malicious lies that are spread across those remote places, cunningly and conscientiously. Our enemies had knowledge of this weakness and made it so that many of those people would reinforce the ranks of the shadow we all dread. And it is appalling how the innocent one might often be moved by fear and such compulsion which I disdain; they fear the Tyrant as we do as well, being the chains that bind them too nasty and intricate to free a spirit longing for liberty. It won't happen, unless our very Enemy is thrown off and defeated for good, once and for all. And, sadly, my lord, none could come to our aid in those far territories of riddle: two of my order had journeyed thither, endowed with a mission akin to mine. They have disappeared, though, and I fear they may have been trapped by the same unstable vibe which runs pervasively through those ways. Thus, we are sole and lone in the predicted clash; only on the western ones we shall count for sure.

Yet, my gentle sire of honour, honest I would not be if I did not tell you this: verily, I feel that the One Ring will eventually be found and discovered again in Middle-earth. At the moment of extreme danger, being the hour late and grave, hands will bear the wicked weight of that artefact. And I pray that those very hands shall be mere hands of common soul, for never has the Evil succeeded in marring whom was humble and lesser for our eyes. And seconding the opposite is the most flawed judgement one could make, since it is simple kindness and love that may keep the darkness at bay.''

Walküre:
DIGRESSIONA lament for future woes
In the gathering of clouds, an Elven choir of Lothlórien sings the coming of troubles in the world and the oncoming storm that is to befall. Guided by the leading wisdom of Galadriel, the choir represents the very will of the Lady of Light and her concern regarding the future, whose course she deems tortuous and full of peril. Also, the ruler of the Golden Wood knows well that a showdown is to take place within the secretive walls of Dol Guldur, for that she divined.


--- Zitat ---1. In the hour of worry,
When birds change their flight and winds seem stronger,
Even inside the blissful forest,
We may sense something in motion,
Peace was disturbed and it could not come back anymore,
Clouds move from the easternmost ends of the world,
Carrying neither joy nor good tidings for us,
Yet, the East is not the utmost concern,
Of our gallant people of the woods,
Awoken a ghost has been, whose lair lies not far.

2. Why must it always be so?
That Immortals have to suffer dread,
Fearing the ruin of their homes,
Homes built with care,
And immense love as well,
For strangers know not,
If they believe we would give up our land,
To which Elves are bound,
As swan-ships are anchored in our havens,
Willing we are not to depart, although that is inexorable fate.

3. The Elven heart is conscious,
Of such ending, in the concluding chapter,
Our history comes nearly to the epilogue,
Wanting or regretting,
Good or bad,
We shall leave these shires,
Become grey and solitary,
Ready for the younger race to dominate,
While we contemplate the twilight of our domain,
What was raised with marvel shall cease to be.

4. The Lady this has foreseen,
Piercing the veil of disguise,
Opening the gates of the past,
Gazing at the maze of forthcoming events,
Destined to be,
Bitter-sweet truth has been revealed, indeed,
To the profound dismay of the Seer,
She guards the well-being of her kingdom,
Seldom was her wrong or chained to doubt,
She thought and spoke wise words, for us to grasp.

5. Her life commenced in Aman,
In the Immaculate Reign of the Archangels,
Beloved by her noble family,
Royal kin dwelling in legend,
Mightiest maiden, tells the lore, and fairest of all,
Alas, the dream broke and vanished,
Once the Trees were touched by venom and by terrible dark,
The greatest token was stolen,
Revenge you yearned,
As well as wild free lands to command under the finest rule.

6. Surely do you know how things were to unfold,
Unto our present,
She governs the ways of Lórien,
Her coming was best gift that was granted to us,
The wittiest monarch would not equal her,
None did so far,
For with incredible force she was endowed with,
Versed with the oldest arts commanding magic,
You may have certainly noticed,
How here, within her realm, time does not flow and things are not diminished by decay.

7. Aye, a secret we keep,
Nay, we may not make it known,
You ought to be content with your guess,
She is our grandest defence,
The most resistant wall she has laid,
Encircling the green of such uncanny realm,
Unfairly feared by Men who understand not,
Her prodigious shield is not shattered by mere blade or cheap means,
Fell assailants will be given the proper response,
Until the Lady of Light stays, naught may drive us away.

8. The Wise have been summoned anew,
To the sacred valley,
His gentle lord thought it was necessary,
Imperative danger requires the firmest act,
It's not the time to flinch from duty,
The erstwhile council boded ill,
For leadership faltered in the advancing of trouble,
The chief was clouded by wrong judgement,
His mind was not apt for the task,
He who seeks the pleasure of flames cannot be asked to extinguish the fire.

9. The Dark Lord has made his move,
His pawns are ready and haste,
The disgraceful fortress you may find in the nearby,
Strange fate, that the night-mare of the tale should hide there,
Concealing his presence and disguising his scope,
Veiled by sorcery and poisonous fog,
Who could see beyond such mist?
As eerie beacon in the night,
Many wicked beings it gathered,
Whither he shall send them we do not know.

10. She has divined a vision of future woes,
Whatever the outcome may be,
A contest is to be,
Along those grievous dungeons,
In which many lost their pitiful lives,
The Sorcerer shall manifest his evilness and vile intent,
Fire and shadow will cover the sight,
Regardless of courage, ghoulish prowess in the foulest guise,
A new darkness, come out of hatred and deceit,
You shall stand bold, Elven Queen, as a radiant lantern in a haunted night.
--- Ende Zitat ---

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