Power Unveiled

'Gandalf! Gandalf!' A scared voice rang clear through the din.

'Peregrin Took! I told you to go to the citadel!' Gandalf the White cried as he saw the Hobbit racing towards him.

Pippin ignored him. 'Gandalf! The Black Riders are attacking the citadel!'

Pippin did not have any time to marvel how much this fact startled Gandalf. His eyes widened, but he said nothing for a moment. Then suddenly, he lifted Pippin with one arm and sat him in front of himself on Shadowfax.

'Quick, Shadowfax! Up to the citadel!' Gandalf whispered.

Gandalf no more heeded the cries of "Mithrandir! Mithrandir!" around him.

One, two, three, four... Pippin wondered yet again how quickly Shadowfax had brought the two of them up to the fifth level now. But suddenly, Shadowfax jerked sideways and stopped abruptly. Gandalf looked up to see what had frightened this Lord of the Méaras, and he froze himself.

A resounding and chilling scream had sounded in the air, and a moment later, a huge beast had descended in front of them, barring their way. Seated on top of the Flying Beast was a dark figure, humanoid, and yet no human features were visible. The Witch-king of Angmar, Lord of the Nazgûl.

At once Gandalf cast one hand which held his white, gleaming staff around Pippin, and held his sword, Glamdring mate of Orcrist, high up in the air with the other.

'Begone, foul creature of Sauron!' He shouted.

'You are a fool, old man, to speak to me in this manner,' said the Witch-king. His voice was terrible to behold. His words rang out clear, and yet they chilled the heart.

'I will not give in to fear, so do not try!' Gandalf still remained firm, and his voice was like a warm strengthening draught on a chill wintry night.

'The world of Men will fall! Darkness will rule!' The Witch-king screeched.

Gandalf jumped down off Shadowfax and raised Glamdring even higher in reply, so that sunlight glinted off the blade. 'I will not let Men fall! There is still power of Numénor left in Middle-earth. Begone! Fall into the nothingness that awaits you and your master!'

'Do not speak to me like that!' The Witch-king shouted, and suddenly threw a blast of green fire at Gandalf.

Gandalf readied Glamdring, and when the blast came, it struck the blade, and rebounded.

'I have the sword of King Turgon of Gondolin, and of Ecthelion of the Fountain. I possess the High-elven sword that defeated the two most terrible Balrogs, and mastered thousands of Orcs. I shall not falter before you!' Gandalf cried, and Pippin was amazed to see, for the first time, that Gandalf looked no longer like an old bent man standing alone on a bridge against shadow and flame, or a weary man with a staff and many jests, but like an Elf-lord and more powerful, but more divine than even Galadriel and Elrond.

Apparently, the Witch-king didn't think so. 'Do you not know the prophecy made for me by the Elves?

'"Sword and shield
spear and shaft,
none shall conquer him."

'Your efforts are futile, Wizard. Not even a Valinorean sword can defeat me!'

Gandalf had not moved an inch. He still stood there, immovable, with a sword in one hand and a white staff in another, while Pippin watched fearfully from a bit further as he sat on Shadowfax. But now, something happened that made Gandalf move.

The Witch-king shrieked in a piercing voice, and the tongue was unknown to Pippin. But Gandalf knew it as the ancient language of the servants of the Great Enemy, Morgoth.

Suddenly, to Pippin's amazement and fear, Gandalf dropped Glamdring as if it was on fire. The next moment, the ancient High-elven sword burst into a thousand pieces.

Gandalf stood frozen for a moment, and the Witch-king burst into mirthless laughter, as chilling as his voice and more.

'I see it is so, minion of Sauron. But today, when the need of Men is dire, I throw away the shroud that was placed on me in Valinor. Today, you shall see my power unveiled!'

And suddenly, Gandalf grew bright and luminous, and the white light that emerged from his body was stronger than the bleak sunlight on that Dawnless Day.

The Witch-king faltered for a moment, but steadied himself and his Winged Steed. 'I do not fear you, old man! Even if you are a wizard, as they say, I do not fear an old man who has learned some tricks from the Elves!'

Gandalf did not heed him. 'I have seen that no sword or other weapon of the Elves, Men or Dwarves can defeat you. But behold! Today you shall face your ruin. For you cannot surmount the staff of an Istar!'

Saying this, Gandalf drew his cloak aside and put his staff in front of himself. Suddenly, Pippin saw that the crown of the staff was blazing with white fire.

'I am one of the Five sent from Valinor, by Manwë Súlimo himself. I am a Maia, a being far beyond your stature. I do not belong to any of the races of Middle-earth. I shall be your doom, as I was for Durin's Bane!'

With surprising agility, Gandalf ran a few paces ahead, startling the Witch-king. Then he raised his staff, and a beam of white fire, bright as the Sun itself, shot out from the crown and struck the Fell Beast of the Lord of the Nazgûl. The Beast screeched, a high note filled with agony, and stumbled.

The Witch-king no longer cared for words. He sent another blast of green fire at Gandalf, but this time, Gandalf held it with his staff, enlarged it, and sent it right back at the Beast.

Then suddenly, Pippin heard a growing din when Gandalf's assault paused for a second. From below and above, from all the levels of Minas Tirith, a shout was rising.

'Mithrandir! Mithrandir is come! Mithrandir to save us!'

Then Pippin realized that all of Minas Tirith, and the armies of Mordor that had gathered on the Fields of Pelennor, would have seen Gandalf grow in stature, and the Witch-king shrink, and the bright light that Gandalf himself emitted, brighter than the light of the Lady Galadriel's eye. And all must be able to see the duel that Pippin was now witnessing.

The blast of green fire had been too much for the Beast. It had fell and crawled, screeching with pain. But Gandalf heeded nothing of it anymore. He had eyes only for the Witch-king, hidden somewhere behind the Beast's vast wings.

Then slowly, almost dramatically, the Witch-king rose from behind the Beast and stepped over its writhing body.

Gandalf steadied himself and his staff, and the Witch-king drew a sword – the Morgul-blade that had smitten Frodo (ages ago, it seemed) on Amon Sûl.

'Face the wrath of the Witch-king of Angmar, fool!'

And quite suddenly, both Gandalf and the Witch-king were aiming blasts of magic and of fire at each other. But while the Witch-king's magic was dark and black, Gandalf's was bright white or yellow.

Suddenly, words that Pippin had heard Gandalf saying long ago, in the Council of Elrond, came back to him. "Such light and flame cannot have been seen on Weathertop since the days of the war beacons of old."

Only then did Pippin realize the full meaning of the words of Gandalf. He had fought all the Nazgûl alone, and survived, and in those days he had been Gandalf the Grey. He was now Gandalf the White, more powerful and wiser.

The Witch-king had met his match.

Gandalf and the Witch-king were still fighting, trying to hit the other. But now, Gandalf was slowly backing. Pippin was quite amazed to see this. Why was he doing this? He was not even what Pippin would call "hard put to it".

Then Pippin knew why Gandalf had been moving. He suddenly launched into a sprint, and confronted the Witch-king out of the blue. 'A Eru Ilúvatar!' Gandalf's cry rang out clearly, and then he jumped at the Witch-king. His long and sturdy staff went flying through the air, and struck the Witch-king at the place where there would have been a neck with a lot of force.

The Witch-king, Lord of the Nazgûl, stumbled backwards and fell. Then Gandalf raised his staff and pointed the lower end at the Captain of the Black Riders. 'Face your doom!' Shouted Gandalf, and a wave of fire emerged from the end of the staff and engulfed the Witch-king, much as it had engulfed Gandalf, coming from Saruman's staff.

The Witch-king shrieked, but this time it was not a call, or a battle-cry, or a shriek of mirth. It was a sound never heard before in all of Arda – the shriek of a Nazgûl in pain.

But suddenly the shriek died down, and the fire cleared away to show only black robes and a black helm lying on the floor. Gandalf had sent the Witch-king of Angmar to the abyss which awaited him and his Dark Lord.

Pippin stepped off Shadowfax and ran over to Gandalf, who stood there, unmoving.

'Gandalf! Oh dear Gandalf!' Pippin shouted, and drew as much of Gandalf as he could reach in a tight hug. Gandalf bent down on his knees and embraced Pippin.

When they broke apart, Pippin had tears in his eyes. He said, 'Gandalf, I am not good at history and legends as Sam is. What was the meaning of all you said to him?'

Gandalf laughed quietly, but stood up. 'There will be time to tell you, Pippin, or at least some of it. But for now, we are in the midst of a battle!'

Gandalf strode over to the ledge of the courtyard they were standing in, and spoke in a loud voice.

'Rejoice, Gondor! Let Minas Tirith rejoice! The Captain of the Enemy is gone. Be glad!'

A cheer rose from the whole city, and it was as if Minas Tirith herself has risen in song:

O Mithrandir!
From beyond the Mark,
You came to us,
When all was dark,
You saved us!
O Great One!
Who fought their Lord,
With the Prince from the West,
From across the Ford,
You came to save us!
Mithrandir! Mithrandir!

Gandalf listened for a minute, his face expressionless. Then he shouted in a booming voice:

'Now, fight! Fight, and fear nothing! Crush every enemy that attempts to defile your sacred city!'

And his cry brought strength, and courage, and renewed hope in the hearts of all Men, and induced fear and despair in the enemy hosts.

'Come Pippin, I think I hear the horns of Rohan sounding in the distance.'

And Gandalf was veiled again, an old, bent man, but no one ever forgot the uncovering of the power of Gandalf, the White Wizard, and it was sung in songs for ages after...