It was a cold day when Sirithwen met Gandalf. Sirithwen was a quiet elf but was not one to sit around and leave things unexplored. Sirithwen was an Eldar, that which being the highest race of the Elves. She was very pretty to look at and many wondered why she had not married during the course of her long years. Why, she could not even say herself.
The year was 3000 in the fourth age of Middle-Earth. Sirithwen was hired to do some spying on the wizard, Saruman. At the last meeting of the White Council (2953) and the meeting before that (2851), it was suspected that Saruman had begun to lust for The One Ring. Sirithwen was hired secretly by the remainder of the White Council to see if these suspicions were true.
She rode towards the massive tower Orthanc, the center of Isengard. Her quick eyes discovered two orc centurions hidden near the gate. The thick forest surrounding the tower gave her a little comfort as she neared the front doors of the structure. It’s master greeted her at the steps.
“Who are you? Who sent you?” Saruman’s eyes were clouded over with mist but it soon passed.
“Please, Master Saruman. I need shelter for the night.” He looked up at the sky, indicating that it was mid-day.
“Rohan is not far, stay there with the other humans.” She tossed her hood off of her head, showing her pointed ears.
“My horse and I are tired and Rohan is not used to Elvish company. Your halls are big, I am sure that you can accommodate me.”
“Very well. Leave your horse. It will be attended to.” He motioned for her to follow him.
“Ah, the head of the White Council is most courteous.”
“Ha, White Council indeed!” He muttered in black speech.
‘So, you know the black speech of Mordor?’ She thought to herself. She made a mental note to mention that in her report.
He led her to his library where Gandalf was seated. He quickly stood up when she entered.
“Saruman, who is this?” He said.
“I don’t know,” he answered whilst slumping down in a chair. “She didn’t tell me.” He emptied a glass of wine and looked back at the elf. Gandalf approached her.
“What is your name, my dear?”
“Sirithwen of the West.”
“What are you doing so far from the West then? I bet that they miss you.” Saruman said, lazily. It was obvious that he was drunk.
“It would be wise if you held your tongue, Curunir, as some are higher than you. My business is not for your ears to hear.” Her eyes turned to Gandalf. “You must be Olorin. I have heard so much about you.
“All good things, I hope.” He smiled and Saruman coughed, hiding a laugh. “Are you hungry, Sirithwen?”
“Oh yes. I’m quite famished.” She smiled at him and stole a glance at the hiccuping Saruman behind Gandalf. “If it’s alright with you, Master Saruman.”
“Oh, don’t mind me. I just live here. Go, eat, I’ll join you later.” He waved then out the door. Gandalf silently took Sirithwen’s arm and led her to the eating hall.
“You are the one that they sent?” Gandalf asked, very silently and close to her head. She had not even seen his lips move.
“Yes.” She could smell the scent of grass and pipeweed with him close to her.
“Strange. I expected someone more… more…” he cut off, trying to think of a word.
“More experienced? Older perhaps?” She smiled. “That’s why they chose me.” He stopped walking and opened the doors in front of them. The dining hall was dark and dusty.
“Well, it’s obvious that our friends Saruman does not have guests very often.” He pulled out a chair for her but dusted it off before she sat down. He pulled out one for himself across from her but didn’t sit down.
“Now, what kind of food do you like?”
“I rather fancy food from Rivendell.” He spoke a few Elvish words and a plate of food appeared before her.
“Always a show off.” Saruman stood in the doorway holding his and Gandalf’s staffs. “You forgot your staff.” He handed it to Gandalf and sat down next to him.
“As you can see, Sirithwen, I don’t normally use this hall. But I do have a cook, so Gandalf’s little trick could have been spared.” Gandalf sat down and began eating his own food, ignoring Saruman.
“As soon as we’re done here, I will show you to your quarters.” She smiled and began eating her food.
‘At least this food is from Gandalf. I don’t think I would trust Saruman’s food,’ she thought.

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