Hemmed in by Orthanc's black parapet and the thousand-foot drop, he paces, or hunches brooding as smoke curls away into the moonlight; well for me that Saruman believes the weed befuddles rather than clears the mind, and leaves me my pipe.  Fool have I been –  nearly the fool he thinks me!

He shakes his head irritably.  Ever since the Council last met I knew he mistrusted my judgement, even Elrond's, and Galadriel's –  but I never mistrusted him! And now, when Frodo most needs me... But he dare not bend his thought upon the Shire. Radagast, my old friend... be true!