Misted Shadows

Resolved Conflict (6)

We rode up next to Gandalf as he talked with Théoden. Treebeard was standing nearby and I looked up at him in awe. Exactly like the book. I couldn't believe my eyes. I looked back to the tower. Although Treebeard was very tall, the tower loomed over everyone.

Not too far up was a balcony. Wormtongue slipped his head out for a second, but quickly ducked back in. Gandalf called out for Saruman, but received no answer. Just as everyone thought Saruman would not speak nor show his face, he appeared on the balcony. No longer dressed in all white, but gray robes that covered his face. He looked like a coward in his tower, but spoke with peace and persuasion.

"Who disturbs me?' asked Saruman. 'I see now two of you that I know. Gandalf and Théoden, Lord of the Mark of Rohan. Why do you not come before me as a friend? Long have I desired to see you mightiest king of the western lands and especially in these latter years to save you from the unwise and evil counsels that beset you! Despite the injuries that have been done to me; in which the men of Rohan have had some part. I will still aid you alone."

I broke my eyes free of his unmoving gaze and looked at Théoden. I could see that he opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out. Even Gandalf seemed to hesitate to say anything. It was if a spell had overcome them and forced them to hold their tongue.

They alone were not the only ones in the trance Saruman placed over them. All the men who rode with us were fixed on him and barely blinked or breathed. This enraged me and I cried out to Saruman.

"Drop this spell on everyone! I know your cunning ways and the slips of your tongue!" I yelled.

"Peace! I do not speak to you Sage of the Overworld. You are far from home and should not have wandered into these lands. Yet I see that you are no longer impartial, but whole. No wonder my words lay no effect on you. Alas, let me speak with King Théoden first!" he said to me.

I held my tongue in order to not lash out again and listened to what he had to say to Théoden, although I could guess exactly what he meant to say.

"What have you to say, King Théoden? Will you have peace with me and all the aid that my knowledge founded in long years can bring? Shall we make our counsels together against evil days and repair our injuries with such good will that our estates shall both come to fairer flower than ever before?" he asked.

Yet again, Théoden did not speak. He stood as still as before and did not attempt to utter a single word. Then out of nowhere, Éomer spoke up.

"Lord, hear me!' he said. 'Now we feel the peril that we were warned of. Have we ridden forth to victory only to stand at last amazed by an old liar with honey on his forked tongue? So the trapped would speak to the hounds, if he could. What aid can he give to you? All he desires is to escape from his tower, but will you parley with this dealer in treachery and murder? Remember Théodred at the Fords and the grave of Háma in Helm's Deep!"

"If we speak of poisoned tongues what shall we say of yours, young serpent?' said Saruman. 'The friendship of Saruman and the power of Orthanc cannot be lightly thrown aside, whatever grievances, real or fancied, may lie behind. You have won a battle but not a war – and that with help on which you cannot count on again. My lord of Rohan, am I to be called a murderer because valiant men have fallen in battle? If you go to war, needlessly, for I did not desire it, then men will be slain. But if I am a murderer on that account, then all the House of Eorl is stained with murder for they have fought many wars and assailed many who defied them. Yet with some they have afterwards made peace, none the worse for being politic. I say, King Théoden, shall we have peace and friendship? It is ours to command."

At long last, Théoden responded, "We will have peace. Yes, we will have peace. We will have peace when you and all your works have perished and the works of your dark master to whom you would deliver us. You are a liar, Saruman, and a corrupter of men's hearts. You hold out your hand to me and I perceive only a finger of the claw of Mordor. Cruel and cold! Even if your war on me was just – even so, what will you say of your torches in Westfold and the children that lie dead there? When you hang from a gibbet at your window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanc. So much for the House of Eorl. A lesser son of great sires am I, but I do not need to lick your fingers. Turn elsewhere, but I fear your voice has lost its charm."