A Rather Chaotic Revision of The Fellowship

~Nine~

The wizard nodded, and with a huff released yet another smoke ring out his pipe, seemingly calm despite all this. "Well, this news is interesting indeed," he murmured. "Perhaps now we can at least begin to fathom why the Valar have sent you."

Caranthir breathed a scoff. "I still can't believe you don't know. Where have you even been this past . . ." He trailed off, as he had no earthly clue how long the Istari had dwelled in Middle-earth.

"For your information, running around taking extensive notes on the manifold races, battling the forced of Sauron, and learning the wonders of the pipeweed," Olórin answered smugly. "You should try it, the smoke rings are quite satisfying. To be honest, it's become a minor addiction."

Caranthir waved an impatient. "No time for that. I don't take up mortal trinkets."

Olórin nodded, a bit disappointed. "I suppose I'm getting off topic. You saw this in the eagle's eye, correct?"

"In a sense," he nodded. "Then I was standing on a hill. All the light vanished, and when I returned the eagle was gone."

Caranthir glanced for a moment at the sky; of course everything glinted in their own, infuriating places. "Perhaps it is a warning," said the wizard. "Sauron, despite lacking physical form, has lost none of his might. More still, something has gone wrong." His face attained an apologetic stare. "The hobbits, see, were waiting on me for nothing. In the weeks they were anxious, I was being held captive by another wizard, you know of him as Curumo."

Caranthir nodded, a bit unnerved. He'd seen him before, more than Olórin, while dwelling in Aulë's halls. Of course, he'd seen Mairon, and Morgoth, before each of them revealed their colors. "It's always the ones who follow Aulë," he chuckled. "Even my disastrous family could count to the list."

Gandalf shook his head. "You forget the Balrogs."

"They never even had the opportunity to lay low, did they?" Caranthir snorted. "Being marred since Arda's creation."

The Maia had begun to pace. Now, his face had gone from easy-going to grim. "I have reason to believe he has another captive, or maybe two others."

"How so?"

"You could hear her screaming." He shuddered and jerked his head. "Although, I noticed, they were never screams of pain, rather defiance. Saruman -- that is the name he is known by here -- never revealed her identity to me. What's more, in Isengard I sensed great power, as if it was a Vala who had taken refuge instead of a wizard. Our powers are greatly weakened here."

"Do you have a guess at which race the prisoner might be? Could she be the Vala, the source of such power, or has Thauron suddenly ensnared another?" he demanded, following Gandalf's example and striding in tense circles.

"She is not of the Ainur, I know that for sure," muttered Gandalf. "Yet she has great power. I doubt also she is one of the Secondborn, mostly for that reason. Too powerful to be mortal, too simple for a Maia." He glanced at Caranthir, suddenly curious. "I mean not to trouble you, but have you heard of anything wrong in Valinor? A . . . disturbance?"

"No. I was never the most . . . sane being in the Halls," Caranthir winced.

Olórin gave a stiff nod. "I apologize. But in the past month, there has been something . . . off here. The waters of Ulmo run crazed and unpredictable, the winds merciless. The eagles of Manwë, as they rescued me from Orthanc, were rough and silent. I fear there is an imbalance in Middle-earth," he muttered. "Perhaps your presence is meant as a counterweight, to prevent total corruption."

"Then why send me to stop this? I have already been corrupted."

"Do not say that," Olórin demanded. "If that was correct, you would have joined the Enemy as well."