Gandalf stepped into the Golden Hall of Meduseld, where all was dark but a sconce at the far end, guttering in some movement of air.

Saruman stood before the throne, silhouetted by the torch. Turning to Gandalf, his eyes fell on his staff, and the wayward wizard's eyes faltered for the smallest of moments.

Saruman's attention had been to the side of the hall, in the deep shadows, where hovered a shadow of substance. The cloaked Servant of Sauron now turned to Gandalf, and after a moment of silence, released the cold hiss of a cornered animal. "You are an intruder here."

Gandalf waited. In time, the Nazgûl took a step to the side, then another. Gandalf turned in time with the creature to avoid turning his back to either the Nazgûl or Saruman, whom he trusted nearly equally. The wraith continued to walk the length of the Hall and only paused when he was beside Gandalf.

"Gandalf the Grey," Saruman said evenly, stepping off the dais and slowly advancing. Gandalf reluctantly drew his attention from the wraith. For a brief moment, Saruman looked warily at the Nazgûl. Then he turned to Gandalf and was sure of himself once more. "It seems your followers have underestimated you. You do not appear quite as dead as they believed. What brings you to Rohan?"

The Nazgûl began to move again. Though the wizard's eyes were on Saruman, all other senses were trained on the wraith as it passed behind him. As it rounded his opposite side, Gandalf turned so that he again had the Nazgûl in his peripheral view.

"I might ask you the same question, Saruman. Considering our last conversation and news that has reached me of late regarding of Isengard, that you have come to Rohan is of great interest to me. That you appear to have dealings with one of the Nine is of even greater interest."

"Of interest to you? What interest have you with Rohan? You seem to show a great deal of concern for these people. Ever you come, only to leave once more, claiming business elsewhere. Perhaps you have greater designs for all of Middle-earth, of which Rohan is only a part?"

The Ringwraith continued stalking his circle round Gandalf, making his way towards the throne once more.

"Is that perhaps your aim, Saruman? You have been overcome with greed, which has brought you to do business with a Nazgûl. It is but a step from dealings with Sauron himself." Gandalf paused when he saw the knowing look in the corrupt wizard's eye. "I see."

"It is quite easy for you to stride proudly into Edoras," Saruman said with a stomp of his staff, "question our plans, and decide who is just and who is unjust. But you stand alone. I stand before the throne of Rohan with the support of the king and his people. And—I have the support of the heir to the throne of Gondor."

The wraith's head snapped suddenly to Saruman. Had Saruman inadvertently revealed plans in contradiction with those he had shared with the wraith? That would mean betrayal.

Judging by the wariness in Saruman's eye, Gandalf guessed the appearance of this wraith had been unexpected as well. Had Sauron sensed his potential betrayal? Sauron would not take duplicity kindly.

Now Gandalf understood Saruman better. He never meant to follow through with whatever schemes he had made with the Enemy. How did he make an agreement with a Nazgûl—or Sauron—and expect not to see it through? Saruman was walking a fine line, indeed.

Gandalf looked for the truth among the wizard's lies. Gandalf needed no instincts to know Aragorn would never support such designs, but what did Saruman gain by claiming the man's loyalty? A better question might be: whom was he trying to deceive? "You stand before the throne of Rohan and treat with one of the Nine Servants of Sauron. You do so with the support of the king?"

"I do so for the good of Rohan," Saruman said with confidence. "You would do well to work on their behalf for once, rather than always to your own ends. If you joined me in my efforts, we would accomplish much for these people, indeed for the world of Men. For this pact will save more than Rohan. All of Gondor and Middle-earth shall benefit."

Gandalf cocked a brow. "Gondor, is it? You seek now to save Middle-earth? And you turn to Sauron to do so?"

"If you have sufficient wisdom and power, you can treat with whomever need demands."

"And what do you need from Sauron, Saruman?"

Saruman only glared at Gandalf and kept his thoughts to himself.

There was another hiss from the shadows. "You have no business here."

Gandalf turned to the creature, but not before seeing Saruman's glare turn to a scowl. "Oh, but I do," he said sharply, wondering how far the wraith would push his threats.

"Saruman will fulfill his bargain with the Lord Sauron."

"And what bargain might that be?"

"Deliver the son of Arathorn."

Gandalf raised an eyebrow at the Nazgûl, then at Saruman. So that was the prize for which this creature crossed the Anduin and entered Meduseld. What would be Saruman's price? Would Saruman hand over the hope of all Men?

Saruman scowl deepened, his words laced with contempt. "Do not feign the naiveté you use so deftly with those who would call you friend. I am not so easily deceived. You have considered treating with Sauron yourself. It is in fact inevitable."

Ire sparked in Gandalf's heart when he heard no denial of the Nazgûl's claim. "You plan to pass off Aragorn to Sauron? You claim his fealty while you plan his betrayal! This is how you treat with Sauron?"

Saruman offered no rejection of Gandalf's accusations, but Gandalf sensed reluctance in Saruman for this arrangement with Sauron. Saruman had thought to continue with his own plans and set aside the pact with Sauron. This wraith that had come to collect on the agreement—mayhap unexpectedly—was merely a complication. Saruman's eyes were already on a greater prize.

"The agreement was made," the wraith rasped. "It shall be seen through." He slowly stepped forward, the threat clear.

Gandalf looked at the wraith. What drove him here with such urgency? Gandalf suppressed a sigh. He cared not for the answers. He had had enough of talk.

"I beg to differ." He turned to the Nazgûl and drew Glamdring from its scabbard with a ring of steel.

Out of the corner of his eye, Gandalf saw movement and knew Saruman made to leave, now that his attention was drawn away. He might have held back Saruman with a portion of his own power but would rather keep his attentions on the Nazgûl. He would find the wizard easily enough.

The Ringwraith let out a screech that rang out through the night, and through Gandalf's ears, as the creature drew his own sword that glowed faintly in the dark. Glamdring glowed brighter. The creature would now know the extent of his power more fully than even Saruman did.

Even so, the Nazgûl apparently judged himself an equal match for the wizard-returned. Beneath the wraith's dark mantle was visible a glimpse of the ghost-like image his body had left behind an age past. The Nazgûl's own power was more of a semblance of power, a pretense supported by Sauron. Without the Dark Lord, the wraith would fade to naught.

The creature took a step forward, then another. Only then did Gandalf advance, eager to rid them all of one of the Nine, and swiftly brought up his sword to block the wraith's first strike. The swords met in a blaze of fire and a clarion ring.

Another strike came from the side. But Gandalf's eyes were swifter. He twisted and blocked, his sword vibrating in his hands. The wraith feinted and brought a strike unexpected from the left. That the wraith might think to outwit the wizard stirred Gandalf's ire.

The wizard's hands were as swift as his eyes and he met strike after strike, sharp and hard, their swords singing with the sound of battle. Refusing to give the creature an inch, he dug his heels into the unyielding stone beneath him.

The Nazgûl let out another screech that went through Gandalf's body. He wished it would not do that. In a renewed attack, the wraith brought down a rain of blows with speed beyond the ability of most creatures.

Now Gandalf was forced back. Though he met each sword strike with one of his own, he relinquished one step, then two. Indignant over the loss, on the third step, Gandalf let out a roar and pushed the Nazgûl from him with his sword. Regaining some ground, Gandalf brought to his hands all of the power within him.

Glamdring glowed brighter as Gandalf moved faster. Matching the Nazgûl's speed strike for strike, their swords blurred in the dim light, and Gandalf's anger grew for this creature's audacity. As he thought of Saruman, of Aragorn, and the others the wizard had imprisoned, his fury ignited.

In the end, one of the Nine was no match for Gandalf the White. When one lucky strike slashed through his sleeve and drew blood, Gandalf's patience was spent. He turned on the wraith with speed few had seen from him. With each strike of Glamdring, now glowing enough to illuminate the entire hall, he pushed the Nazgûl back until he was up against the wall.

If any had witnessed the battle, none would mistake Gandalf for an old man again.

The Nazgûl cornered, Gandalf plunged his sword through what was once its heart and ended its existence. Releasing a final screech, the Nazgûl collapsed into a pile a black cloth, its sword falling uselessly to the ground beside it with a final clang.

Gandalf took a breath and sheathed Glamdring. Though satisfied, he would enjoy no revelry for this victory. The Nazgûl might have been a Servant of Sauron, but the confrontation with Saruman he knew must come perhaps daunted Gandalf more. To lay low one he had once held in such high esteem brought him great grief and nearly caused him to despair.

As Gandalf stepped away from the Ringwraith's remains, the shadow of terror that had hung like a damp rag over Edoras dissipated, freeing all who had been imprisoned in its grasp.