Gandolf walks out from behind the rather cool looking sails on which are projected shifting, soft pastel colors. He steps onto the disk which is illuminated from below with a white light.
“Hi. I’m Gandolf Edward, welcome to Crossing Under,” Gandolf said with casual ease.
He takes a quick deep breath and lets it out slowly. He rubs his hands together briefly as he stares down at the disk. Then, suddenly he looks up at the gallery toward the right side and straightens his tall pointy hat.
“I’m coming over here,” he said. He steps in that direction, approaching the edge of the bright disk. “I’m getting an older male. I think it’s for someone back there,” he adds, pointing to the back row. “He claims to be a father figure and I’m getting a…it’s like…a unique ess name…like Sar or Saur…it’s an ess arr sounding name. I may be off on the name, but I’m never wrong on the initial or the sound.”
Naturally, no one bothers to respond right away. Gandolf points once again to the back row of the gallery. “I’ve got an older male claiming to be a father figure with a unique ess arr name like, Sar-on.”
Someone finally raises a hand and one of the sound techs rushes over with a boom mic.
“I think that might be for me,” a robed man said when the mic arrived.
“Do you understand the ess arr name?” Gandolf asked.
“I’m an ess arr name,” the man said.
Gandolf stares at the disk for a moment as if thinking or communing with the other world. “If you are then there’s another ess arr name.” Glancing up at the man, Gandolf asked, “What’s your name?”
“Saruman,” the man replied.
“No. That’s not what I’m getting. Do you know a Sauron?” Gandolf Edward asked.
“Yes,” Saruman said. “He’s…”
“No!” Gandolf said quickly. “My job.” He glanced away to more easily concentrate on the subtle energies of the spirit world. “He’s still claiming to be a father figure,” Gandolf said. “Is your father crossed under?”
“Yes, but Sauron isn’t my father…exactly,” Saruman said.
“He’s claiming to be above you,” Gandolf said. “That to me is father, uncle, grandfather…”
“He was, sort of a mentor, you might say,” Saruman said.
“But he was older than you,” Gandolf said, nodding. “Much older he’s telling me.”
Saruman nodded back.
“He’s showing me…” Gandolf stops himself. “First, I have to tell you that I really don’t like doing jewelry and it’s for this reason. It’s something we all have. Everyone has some piece of jewelry whether it’s a necklace or a bracelet or whatever that gets handed down. And all the sceptics are at home now with their clipboards writing down ‘Ooo! He’s going to use the jewelry bit!’”
Gandolf and the gallery all chuckle and laugh. Then, Gandolf turns serious again. “But I do have a rule and that’s I give it as I get it. They give it to me and I pass it on.” After a moment to calm himself, he continues. “Alright. He’s still showing it to me. He’s showing me a ring. A gold ring.”
“A gold ring?” Saruman asked.
“A gold ring,” Gandolf repeated. “He’s saying, ‘one one one’. Now it’s…it’s more like…‘the one’, ‘the one’ and he’s showing me the ring again.” He looks at Saruman again. “Does, ‘the one’ mean anything to you?”
“The one ring?” a short person sitting next to Saruman asked.
Saruman glared at the short person sitting next to him.
“Are you related?” Gandolf asked the two.
“No!” they both replied.
“We’re…aquaintances,” Saruman said.
“You came together?” Gandolf asked.
“Uh, yes,” Saruman replied.
“Sort of,” the short person added reluctantly.
“To me you’re family then,” Gandolf said. “If you came together then your relatives on the other side joined up and came together too.”
“I doubt it,” Saruman muttered with another glare at the little person.
“I’m getting a fr…fro…fro…” Gandolf quieted and listened to the thoughts coming into his head. “I’m getting a froda or frodo?”
“I’m Frodo,” the small person sitting next to Saruman replied.
“You’re…Frodo? Really?” Gandolf asked as if he didn’t believe it himself. Frodo nodded. “He’s telling me that you have the one and he’s showing me the ring again. He just won’t get away from that ring!”
“Yes,” Frodo said. “It’s right here.” He pulled out a chain from beneath the tunic he wore and from it hung a golden ring. “Everybody always called this, ‘the one ring’.”
“Ohh! That’s why he keeps saying ‘the one’ and showing the ring,” Gandolf said. “It’s because that’s what it was called.”
“Ask him if I was supposed to get the ring,” Saruman said.
“No!” Frodo said.
“Easy, Frodo,” the short and heavier set man sitting on Frodo’s other side said.
“Sam, I’m supposed to…” Frodo began.
“No!” Gandolf said. “My job.” He smiled at the gallery and they chuckled. “He’s telling me that the one who bears the ring is the one to carry the ring. I’m getting a pull to my left, to me that’s to the west. Mor…mor…mordor. What’s that?”
“Mordor is a place,” Saruman said.
“Is that out of my state?” Gandolf asked.
“Uh, quite some distance, I would say,” Saruman replied.
“He’s telling me, ‘the one to Mordor, the one to Mordor’,” Gandolf said. “Does this mean anything to you?”
“Yeah,” Frodo said. He glanced at Saruman. “It means you don’t get the ring.”
“He’s pulling his energy back,” Gandolf said. “Just know that he saw this as his way of coming through…”
Saruman tried to grab the ring from Frodo but the little hobbit was quicker than he looked and he tucked the ring back into his tunic while he leapt out of his seat and stepped back. Sam jumped up and placed himself between his friend and the tall Saruman.
“Can we get security out here?” Gandolf said, stopping the show in it’s tracks.
Several dark clad men came from opposite directions and converged on Saruman. Saruman glared at Gandolf angrily. “If my staff wasn’t confiscated when I got here, you and these hirelings of yours would be dust and ash Gandolf!”
One of the dark clad men cuffed Saruman and they led him out of the studio.
“Frodo, we need to talk after the show,” Gandolf said seriously.
-=-
I hope you enjoyed my little contribution. I couldn’t resist doing a Crossing Over With John Edward parody, particularly, when after spending a few days reading the previous posts, I dreamt a part of the scene above.
