I.

Gandalf stood beneath the mighty tower of Orthanc, looking up.
Saruman had summoned him and he wondered greatly that he was left waiting below after riding so hard to arrive quickly.
Also, the tower seemed festooned with small fluttering rags of some kind, way at the top. Were they a signal of some kind?

Saruman growled at his lackeys when they told him Gandalf had arrived. "I'm not ready! Thanks to your inept laundering..."

"But yer great n' mighty wizardness, we didn't know...."

"Even the dullest laundress knows you don't wash brights with whites! It was bad enough when you washed the red cloak with the robes and I was the Pink Wizard. And now, now you've gone and washed them with all of the colored pennants!"

"We bleached 'em, sir... hung 'em to dry.... put 'em in the sun....," they bowed and scraped.

"Yes you did! And they better be white by now! I have company coming."

"We seen 'em sir, he's down below and sir... "

"Yes, and there he stays until I am the White Wizard again."

"If you don' mind us sayin' so, sir, he won't mind yer bein' a bit colorful.
All grey himself, probably never washed 'r nothin'! Maybe you could be the Wizard of Many Colours....or som'thin...."

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