In Chapter 9 of “Mind to Mind”, I wrote that Celeborn may not have considered Gandalf to be the most cooperative of patients after Gwaihir brought the wizard to Lórien to heal after the Balrog battle.  Several reviewers asked for an elaboration of that time in Lórien, and this teensy scene is the result.

DISCLAIMER:  Of course. The characters don’t belong to me, I just get to think about them day and night.

___________________________

PATIENCE WITH PATIENTS 

“Gandalf,” Celeborn said gently, “you must return to your bed. It is but a few days since the Lord of Eagles brought you to us, and you are still recovering.”

Gandalf sighed and stepped away from the Mirror of Galadriel. “But you said I could stay online as long as I wished!”

“Only if you do what we tell you. You must rest, eat all your lembas, and stop whining about your new clothes.”

“White makes me look fat,” the wizard grumbled. “And what’s with you Elves wanting to braid everyone’s hair? I’ll allow one little twist in the back, and that’s it.”

“Done. Now come, you must rest.”

“But I need the Mirror to show me where---”

“Do not be concerned, my old friend. The hobbits are in good hands.”

“Hobbits? Who said I was trying to find them?” The wizard began to get agitated. “I’m trying to locate where that blasted, uppity white horse has disappeared to. Can’t he stay in one place for ten minutes?”

“Gandalf,” Celeborn urged worriedly, “go to your happy place. Concentrate...”

The wizard grinned. “There was that beach resort in Dol Amroth... ah, yes...”

“That’s better. Now off to bed, there’s a good wizard.”

Gandalf followed Celeborn obediently. “Can I have ice cream?”

“Pippin ate the last of it, I’m afraid.”

“Hmmph. Wait until I find that horse, and that hobbit. I need to teach them both a lesson.” The wizard smiled happily. “I’ll make up some excuse to drag them both out on some bumpy three-day ride. Maybe to Rohan, or Gondor...”

“So you’ll be leaving soon?” Celeborn asked hopefully. He helped the wizard back into bed. “Where will you go from here?”

”Isengard.”

“But... Saruman has turned to evil!”

Gandalf glared up at the Elf. “Evil, shmeevil. At least he’ll let me look into the Palantir as long as I want. Not like some people. I depart at first light.”

“Good, good. I’ll pack your things. We’ll be sorry to see you go, of course.”

“Breakfast at 6:00 sharp,” Gandalf yawned.

“I’ll make it myself,” Celeborn assured him. “Maybe I’ll even bring it early. Rest well, my friend.”

Gandalf's quote is from The Two Towers

THE TRUTH COMES OUT

“Oh Gandalf,” Frodo sighed, sitting up in bed. “I thought you were dead! We really needed you in Mordor. How I wish you’d been with us.”

“With you?” the White Wizard asked, puzzled. “But my dear boy, you always knew I wouldn’t be going east with you.”

“What?” Frodo cried out. “How would I have known that?”

Gandalf smiled indulgently. “Don’t you remember? As I told you once, 'Many are my names in many countries. Mithrandir among the Elves, Tharkûn to the Dwarves; Olórin I was in my youth in the West that is forgotten, in the South Incanus, in the North Gandalf; to the East I go not’.'"

“You never told me that,” Frodo frowned. “Faramir did, when Sam and I were in Ithilien.”

“Oh. Well, I meant to tell you,” Gandalf said airily. “My goodness, the East is – or was -- full of all kinds of awful creatures and dark spells; there was no need for me to expose myself to such dangers. I’m an important wizard, you know. Besides, there was Aragorn to guide you, Legolas and Gimli to protect you, your fellow hobbits to--”

“Are you telling me,” Frodo said slowly, “that you never intended to go with me to Mordor? Even from the beginning? And what about that whole Balrog incident?” He got to his feet, his eyes blazing. “How convenient.”

“It was, wasn’t it? What I mean is...” Gandalf began backing away from Frodo. “Here now, there’s no need to get so upset, dear boy. Everything worked out well in the end, didn’t it?”

“Where’s that sword?” Frodo muttered, looking around the room.

“Here you go, Mr. Frodo,” Sam said calmly. He stood in the doorway, Sting in his hand. He tossed it to Frodo and smiled, pulling the door closed again. “I’ll just leave you two alone, shall I?”

A THREE HOUR CRUISE (written in 2006 for Claudia's birthday)

As they approached the Grey Havens, Sam could stand the silence no longer.

“Please, Mr. Frodo, why are you doing this?”

“The Shire has been saved, Sam... but not for me,” Frodo said softly.

“Begging your pardon, sir, but that really doesn’t make much sense.”

“Oh.” Frodo thought for a moment. “Once bitten, twice shy, then.”

“Pardon?”

“No man is an island?”

“You’re a hobbit, sir.” Sam peered at his master critically, starting to smell a rat. “What’s really going on?”

Frodo sighed; it was so difficult keeping a secret from Sam. The group, including Elrond, Galadriel, Bilbo, and many noble Elves, rode up to the ornate gates where Gandalf stood waiting.

“It is time, Frodo,” Gandalf said gravely. “Did you pack the suntan oil?”

“What is he...” As they rode through the gates, Sam halted, and gasped in amazement at the sight before them. His stared not at the Sea, but...

There, breathtaking in its loveliness, was moored the beloved white ship of the Elves, “The Quenya Queen”. Lively singing and splashing could faintly be heard from various hot tubs on the deck, and a sign on the dock advertised that the Dorwinion Duo would be entertaining the passengers in the Caradhras Club that evening.

“We’re coming too!” came a sudden cry. Merry and Pippin came galloping up on their ponies, tickets in hand.

“And here’s yours, Sam,” Frodo laughed, waving a first-class ticket enticingly at his friend. “Care to join us for a little cruise?”

“I don’t do well on boats, Mr. Frodo,” Sam reminded him, eyeing the ticket longingly.

“The Sea is as smooth as glass this time of year,” Frodo cajoled.

“Ah, hello, Rosie!” Gandalf called out. “It’s good to see you again.”

“R… Rosie?” Sam dismounted and gazed raptly at the vision before them.

“You must be Samwise Gamgee,” the adorable hobbit lass said to him, checking the names on her clipboard. “I’m Rose Cotton, the Activities Director. May I show you around the ship... Sam?”

“Yes, please,” Sam murmured.

Bilbo pulled out his pocketwatch and peered at it.

“It’s nearly time for luncheon!” the old hobbit cried in alarm. “Come, Gandalf, help an old hobbit up the ramp. Tuesday is ‘all you can eat steak-and-lobster day’, as I recall.”

“Steak?” Pippin asked, mouth watering.

“Lobster?” Merry sprinted for the ship. “Last one on board is an orc!”

“I hope the chefs have prepared for hobbit appetites,” Elrond said worriedly.

“Fear not,” Galadriel assured him. “I foresaw in my Mirror that that ship would have some unusual guests this trip, and sent messages ahead.”

“Good,” Frodo said, pulling out his sunglasses. “Let’s--”

“Elendil!” came a sudden, triumphant cry from somewhere on deck.

“Is that—” Frodo gasped.

“Ah,” Gandalf chuckled. “He must have made a good shot. You may not know this, Frodo, but Aragorn has been Middle-earth shuffleboard champion three years’ running.”

“Does he always yell like that?” Frodo winced.

“You get used to it,” Elrond sighed.

The Undying Lands have never heard of swine flu.  Well, not exactly...

VALINOR VIRUS

Location: Tol Eressëa
Fourth Age

Elrond left the hobbits’ sickroom and discovered Gandalf waiting in the corridor.

“How are they?” Gandalf asked anxiously. “I’ve never heard of anyone catching the Valinor Virus before.”

“Nor have I,” Elrond sighed. “From what I have been told, it usually passes harmlessly between the Eagles and the Mearas, with no transmission to Elves. Unfortunately, hobbits have no immunity, and they will be abed for several more days. Did you have to let them ride Shadowfax?”

“Are you blaming me for this?” Gandalf scowled.

“And you sent those Eagles to Mt. Doom!” Elrond realized. “Frodo must have been exposed twice! It took only the moist, tropical air here for the infection to bloom.”

“I’m a wizard, not a doctor,” Gandalf declared. “How could I know?”

“No matter,” Elrond said soothingly. “Bless Fëanor for inventing the fever-stick; I’m monitoring the hobbits’ temperatures as often as they’ll allow... which is not very often.” He frowned at the wizard. “You can take that fool mask off, you know. They are rather ineffective against this virus. Besides, you are one of the Istari!”

“So what?” Gandalf muttered darkly. “I've already died once, and don't plan to go through that a second time. I probably have no immunity either.”

Written for the 2011 birthday of Belleferret

BEWITCHED, BOTHERED, AND BEWILDERED

“That is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell,” Legolas marveled.

“Dwarves don’t call them ‘Mearas’,” Gimli said conversationally, watching the animal approach. “I thought
everyone called that a—”

“Hush!” Gandalf said quickly. “The Elf’s eyes are enspelled. He doesn’t see the same thing you do.”

“He doesn’t?” Aragorn looked over at Legolas, who was still gazing raptly some distance ahead of them. “What does he see?”

“A magnificent horse.”

Gimli frowned. “’Tis a handsome creature, I admit; but...”

Legolas bowed deeply before the silver-white ferret that was now capering about Gandalf’s boots, and the Dwarf covered a bellow of laughter with a cough.

Gandalf the White grinned happily. “Good spell, eh? It’s one of my new abilities.”