Perhaps they would have (who really knows the limits of the Elves' power?), but they had no time left for that or anything else. The sun was already at zenith, so Eornis took the palant r out of its protective silver-shot sack and brought it right next to the maddened Mirror, which looked fit to gallop away on its bent little legs. After waiting the prescribed time, the clofoel of the World brought together the two orange sparks within the magic crystal, thus switching it to `send-receive' mode...
Chapter 67
Arnor, the Tower of Amon Sul -- Mordor, western edge of Orodruin
August 1, 3019 of the Third Age, a quarter-hour before noon
"Hold it!" Gandalf ordered in a voice hoarse with strain, as if he was supporting an immense weight -- which he was, no matter that the weight was not a physical one. All the four wizards of the White Council were totally exhausted, sweat rolling down their wax-like faces as they were ready to collapse. This job really took a pentagram, but their numbers only sufficed for a square... ah, Saruman, Saruman!
A huge map of Middle Earth, drawn somewhat schematically but with careful attention to scale and orientation right on the flagstones, took up the entire floor. A palant r rested in its middle, which corresponded to Arnor, casting flashes of colored light -- yellow, blue, greenish -- haphazardly in all directions. The efforts of the White Wizards were not in vain, though -- slowly the flashes merged into a steady emanation which then separated into needle-thin colored rays. Gandalf uttered a short `fixing' spell, which served as a "Down!" command; the wizards repeated it in unison and let themselves relax, as if they have just put down a cupboard full of crystalware they have been carrying. The first part of the job was done.
The colored rays that now spread out across the floor and beyond the walls from the palant r in the center joined the crystal to the other six throughout Middle Earth. It was impossible to tell exactly where the other palant ri were, but to know the direction was also useful. First, Gandalf studied the golden-yellow ray leading due west into the ocean. Yellow meant that the other Seeing Stone was in regular working state, meaning that this was the palant r of Kirden the Ship-builder, king of the Western Elves; the wizard made sure that the ray went through the part of Lindon shore where the Tower of Emyn Beraid stood and nodded in satisfaction: their map had been drawn accurately and they could go on. The two clouded-green rays that formed an almost straight line, leading north-north-west to the Bay of Forochel in one direction and south-south-east to the delta of the Great River in the other, were of no interest to him: those were the sunk palant ri, the two on the lost ship of Prince Arvedui and the one carried by the Anduin from Osgiliath. The ones that had prompted this whole exercise were azure-blue (meaning that the palant ri were working but enclosed in silver-shot protective sacks) and led south-east, only very slightly apart. To Mordor. Damn it all!
"Where did they get a second crystal, Gandalf?"
"Look at the map -- see any lines leading to Emyn Arnen? Looks like His Highness the Prince of Ithilien has kept up his pre-war games with the East and handed Denethor's palant r to those spawn of Morgoth, the asshole! I wish Aragorn had strangled him back at that hospital..."
"Now, now, Gandalf! What if Aragorn and Faramir had simply made a secret alliance against the Elves, using the remnants of the Orcs? Then it could've been Elessar Elfstone himself that gave the Minas Tirith palant r to the Orcs. I mean, everybody is now working against the Elves, including ourselves, just separately." Even so, Gandalf thought in consternation, the overall picture is no clearer. Vakalabath's prophecy has many possible meanings, but it can be read as "Magic will depart Middle Earth with the palant ri" -- today at noon -- or not at all. How can this be? He stared at the dark-blue rays again: one goes through Barad-Dur and the eastern part of N rnen, the other slightly to the west, through Gorgoroth and Orodruin... Orodruin?! So that is what they've decided to do!
Or, perhaps... no, there are no such coincidences! Looks like those Mordorian idiots have decided to drop their crystal into the Eternal Fire, thereby destroying it. What do they hope to accomplish? Sure, this will tweak the magic fields of the other palant ri and even the Mirror, but, really, not as drastically as to banish magic from Middle Earth! Even if another palant r that happens to be in receiving mode is destroyed at the same time...
"Gandalf, look! Something strange is happening to the eastern ray!" The head of the White Council has already noticed something weird about the ray going through eastern Mordor: it started changing color and brightness at fixed intervals, as if storm clouds were moving across an evening sky.
"But that's impossible!" the wizard in the blue cloak spoke again. "There's only one thing in all of Middle Earth capable of influencing a palant r's field -- the Mirror. But the Mirror is with the Elves in L rien while the palant r is in Mordor..." A terrible guess pierced Gandalf's brain. "That palant r is not in Mordor," he rasped, pointing at the map. "Its ray goes through eastern Mordor, true, but first it goes through Caras Galadhon -- look at the map! -- and that's where it is, right by the Mirror!"
"Wait -- could this be a coincidence? The Elves of L rien have never had a palant r, and Kirden's is in place."
"They haven't before, but they do now! I don't know who made Lady Galadriel this gift -- Aragorn, Faramir, or the Orcs -- but she put the crystals together for some reason. At noon the Orcs -- or maybe they aren't Orcs, how am I to know? -- will drop their palant r into Orodruin, the Eternal Fire will jump from the Orodruin palant r to the L rien one and from there to the Mirror, and then it really will be all over! And when the Mirror is destroyed, all the other Seeing Stones will turn into clots of Eternal Fire, including ours." At those words the White wizards shrank back involuntarily, as if the deadly fire was already singeing their faces. "There's Vakalabath's prophecy for you! Make a triangle, quick! Help me -- perhaps we'll be in time..."
Gandalf kneeled in front of the palant r. A dense chain of blue-violet sparks shimmered into existence between his palms, and he began winding it around the crystal exactly as if he was winding woolen thread into a ball; a tangy freshness came into the air, as if a lightning had struck somewhere nearby. The other three wizards have already poured all their power into the head of the White Council and now stood around him motionless and silent, like statues; none of them dared think of the all-consuming fiery dragon that could hatch out of its crystal egg at any moment. Gandalf's hands moved faster and faster; hurry, White Wizard, there's a lot at stake! A lot? How about everything? Finally he sank to the floor and just sat there for a few seconds, eyes closed. He had to use his teeth to uncork the flask of Elvish wine -- his hands were now forever numb, as if frozen. Holding the flask between insensate palms, he drank a couple of swallows and handed the flask to Radagast without looking. They made it, despite everything... The ray of light going from their palant r to the one at Orodruin was now scarlet-purple rather than blue; the moment those guys take their crystal out of its protective silver net, Gandalf's spell will coil around it like a blue snake. He wouldn't want to be the one to touch that ball... Now it's time to catch my breath and consider how we might grab that palant r which will surely remain lying there among the rocks of Orodruin.
***
Haladdin tore himself away from contemplating the scarlet gold-tinged lava boiling almost at his feet in the crater. Squinting and shielding his eyes with his palm, he estimated the position of the sun, already a bit past noon. L rien lies substantially to the west of Mordor, so noon at Orodruin should be about a quarter-hour before L rien's. Looks like it's time to take the palant r out of its bag and wait for the Mirror to appear in it -- provided that Kumai did his job... He rebuked himself: don't dare think that! You know with absolute certainty that he did everything exactly as requested. You can look forward to killing that woman -- all right, Elf-woman, what's the difference -- in just a few minutes. Well, that's been mulled over a thousand times. I suppose I could ask Tzerlag (there he is, snoozing by the rocks -- nerves of steel!) to `carry out the sentence,' bu
t that'd be really... The voyage to Orodruin was not too hard. Runcorn accompanied them to the Hotont pass -- the ranger wanted to scout a good place for a house in the upper reaches of the Otter Creek anyway -- where Matun met them. Matun viewed the rendezvous with `Haladdin's scouting team' as a short vacation from the front lines -- war still raged home in Mordor, whereas here, beyond the Mountains of Shadow, everything was nice and quiet. By that time Faramir had made every possible effort to make peace with the Shadow Mountain Trolls, fully succeeding in his diplomatic efforts last week when a delegation of three Trollish elders visited Emyn Arnen. Someone -- let's not point fingers -- did not like this rapport one bit, so a special assassination team waited for the elders at the outskirts of the Settlement. However, Baron Grager's intelligence service acquitted itself admirably: not only did it avert the attempt, it proved that the provocation was directed from beyond the Anduin. The assassins that survived the battle were let go with an order to ask His Majesty to vary his methods a bit. In any event, Grager's proofs were enough for the elders: they broke a traditional flatbread with the Prince of Ithilien and departed, leaving their younger sons to serve in the prince's personal guard as a sign of their covenant. By that time the Ithilienians have already established lively barter trade with the Trolls without waiting for any royal permissions. The Elves controlling the Cirith Ungol pass watched all that with hot fury but could do nothing about it -- not enough manpower.
"How's Ivar doing, Matun? How's maestro Haddami -- still amusing you all with his jokes?"
"Haddami got killed," the Troll answered solemnly. "Gods rest his soul, he was a worthy man, even though Umbarian..." He looked at Haladdin's face and mumbled in embarrassment: "My apologies, sir! I wasn't thinking. What about that Gondorian of yours?"
"He got killed, too."
"I see."
They only spent a few hours in Ivar's camp. The lieutenant tried several times to detail guards to accompany them to Orodruin ("It's real dicey on the plains right now, Easterling patrols are all over the place"), but the sergeant only chuckled: "You hear that, Matun? They're gonna lead me through the desert!" He was right: helping an Orocuen in the desert is like teaching a fish to swim, and a smaller company is much better in their situation. So the two of them made the journey together, ending the way they started. Yes, it was time. Haladdin untied the sack, pushed apart its stiff silver-embroidered sides and took the heavy crystal ball in his hands, looking for the orange sparks in its pale opalescent depths.
***
Here in Amon S l the distant palant r at Orodruin was reflected as a large soap bubble some six feet in diameter. They could plainly see the unknown man turn the crystal around in his hands -- huge images of hands moved around the surface of the ball, large and clear enough to read the palm lines.
"What's happening, Gandalf? Explain!" The wizard in the blue cloak could remain silent no longer.
"Nothing. That's the problem: nothing is happening." Gandalf's words had an even and lifeless quality. "My spell hasn't worked. I don't understand why."
"Then it's all over?"
"Yes. It is." Silence reigned; everyone seemed to be listening to the sound of the last grains of sand streaming down the hourglass of their lives.
"Did you have a good time playing?" The voice that broke the silence was mocking, but still as beguiling as ever. "'History will vindicate me,' eh?"
"Saruman?!"
The former head of the White Council was already heading into the hall with his firm wide stride, waiting for no permission or invitation, and everyone immediately felt that the term `former' was absolutely inappropriate.
He looked intently at the rays of light emanating from the palant r. "Vakalabath's prophecy, isn't it, Radagast?" He addressed the forest wizard to the exclusion of all the other Council members. "Aha... this ray leads to Orodruin?"
"They want to destroy the Mirror," a slightly revived Gandalf put in.
"Shut up," Saruman told him without looking at him, and thrust his suddenly stone chin at the L rien ray, which had just dimmed again: "There's your Mirror -- enjoy the sight, wannabe demiurge..."
"Can we help you, Saruman?" Radagast said soothingly, trying to mend bridges. "All our magic..."
"Yes, you can, by getting out of here immediately. Stick all your magic up your butts: haven't you understood yet that the man on Orodruin is absolutely immune to magic? I will try reasoning with him logically, perhaps that will work... Move!" he yelled at the Council members milling uncertainly at the doors. "Get the hell out, I said! This place is going to blow so high, you'll be collecting your balls for weeks!" Paying no further attention to the quickly departing White wizards, he handled the palant r to put it into `send-receive' mode and called softly: "Haladdin! Doctor Haladdin, can you hear me? Please respond."
Chapter 68
A few excruciatingly long seconds passed before a surprised voice sounded from the depths of the palant r: "I hear you! Who's calling me?"
"I could have introduced myself as a nazg l and you would have never known the lie, but I will not. I am Saruman, head of the White Council."
"The former head..."
"No, present." Saruman glanced over his shoulder at the white cloak abandoned by Gandalf in his haste lest the thing catch on something as he careened down the stairs. "For about three minutes already."
For a few seconds the palant r was silent.
"How do you know my name, Saruman?"
"There aren't that many people in Middle Earth who are absolutely closed to magic. It stands to reason that the Nazg l would pick one such to implement Vakalabath's prophecy..."
"Pardon me?"
"There's an obscure ancient prophecy saying that one not-so-wonderful day `magic will depart Middle Earth with the palant ri.' The date of this event is encoded in a complicated manner; we have been combining the numbers in that prophecy and expecting this event at several dates, but so far it has not happened. Today is one of those days, and as I understand it, the Nazg l have decided to use Vakalabath to destroy the palant ri and the Mirror -- `the World is Text...' You will now drop your palant r into Orodruin, the palant r in L rien will burn the Mirror with Eternal Fire, and the magical world of Arda will perish forever."
"Why would it perish?" the palant r asked after a second.
"Ah, I see. Apparently, you have dealt with Sharya-Rana, correct?"
"Why would you think so?" There was a hint of surprise in Haladdin's voice.
"Because that is his theory of Arda's make-up: two worlds, a `physical' one and a `magical' one, joined through the Mirror. The Elves, having crossed from the other world into this one, will unavoidably undermine its very existence with their magic, so the Mirror should be destroyed in order to isolate those worlds to their mutual benefit. Close enough?"
"Do you mean to say that it's all a lie?" Haladdin responded coldly.
"Not at all! It is one of the theories of the World's structure, but no more than that. Sharya- Rana, whom I respect greatly, held this theory, but to act in accordance with it..."
"What do the other theories say? Please tell me, esteemed Saruman; we still have time. When it's time for me to drop the palant r into Orodruin, I'll give you warning."
"You are very gracious, Haladdin, thank you. Very well -- the mainstream opinion is that the `physical' and `magical' worlds are indeed separate and the Mirror and the palant ri did indeed originate in the magical one, but they are not here, in the physical world, by chance. Those crystals constitute the very foundation of that other world's existence, like that fairy- tale needle -- remember, the one hidden in an egg which is hidden in a duck which is hidden in a hare which is hidden in a chest? By destroying the Mirror with the palant ri you will simply destroy the entire magical world. The irony is that they have been placed in this non- magical world precisely for safekeeping, just like the chest in the fairy tale. Of course, you might say that these are that other magical world's problems for which you care not. I have to disappoint you -- the worl
ds are symmetrical."
"You mean to say," Haladdin spoke slowly, "that there's something which is the basis of our world's existence that's been placed for safekeeping in that other, magical world? Our own needle in an egg and so forth?"
"Precisely. By destroying the other world you will doom ours. Sometimes twins are born conjoined; obviously, if one kills the other, he, too, will soon die of blood poisoning. When you drop the palant r into Orodruin's maw, the other world will perish instantly, while this one will start dying a long and painful death. Nobody knows how long this dying will last -- a minute, a year, a century -- would you like to find out?"
"That's if you're right and Sharya-Rana is wrong."
"Certainly. Have you decided to find out experimentally which theory is correct? A radical experiment, as they call it in your circles?"
The palant r was silent -- Haladdin was at a loss for words.
"Listen, Haladdin," Saruman continued with apparent curiosity, "have you really started all this to put the Elves in their place? Aren't you overestimating their importance?"
"Something like this is better to overdo."
"Then you do believe that the Elves are about to control the entire Middle Earth? My dear doctor, this is bizarre! Whatever the Elves' capabilities are -- and they are greatly exaggerated by rumor, believe me -- there's only about fifteen thousand of them, perhaps twenty thousand, in the entire Middle Earth. Think about it -- a few thousand, and there will be no more; while there are millions of Men, and their numbers keep growing. Believe me that Men are already strong enough not to be afraid of Elves; this is some kind of an inferiority complex on your part!.."
The Last Ringbearer Page 40