I ride between Éomer and Legolas with Gimli, and we make little talk. I know Théoden is still upset with me, but Legolas accepted the fact that I was coming with them. We ride through the Fangorn Forest quietly, the only sound being the sound of hooves, twigs snapping and the occasional short conversation. As we near the edge of the forest where light peeks through the dense woods, I hear laughter. As Gandalf, right in front of me, emerges out of the forest, we come to a stop.
"Ahaha!" Gandalf cries, and I spot two Hobbits sitting on part of a stone wall. Merry stands up from his seat next to Pippin.
"Welcome, my Lords and Lady, to Isengard!" Merry calls, wobbling slightly on his feet. I raise my eyebrows and let out a small laugh.
"You young rascals. A merry hunt you've led us on and now we find you feasting and... And smoking!" Gimli exclaims.
"We are sitting on a field of victory enjoying a few well earned comforts." Pippin speaks up, his words slurring slightly. He takes a bite out of some sort of meat. "The salted pork is particularly good."
"Salted pork..." Gimli sighs.
"Hobbits..." Gandalf mutters under his breath. I laugh in relief.
"We're under orders from Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard." Merry says.
I watch as the hobbits slide off the stone and onto horses. We ride slowly through Isengard, taking in the flooded area. An Ent- Treebeard, I suppose- walks slowly towards us. I gaze up at him.
"Young master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there's a Wizard to manage here, locked in his tower." Treebeard says in a low, deep voice. We all look up at the tall tower looming over us, and I lift my head confidently. I am safe, he won't hurt me.
"Show yourself." Aragorn murmurs.
"Be careful; even in defeat Saruman is dangerous." Gandalf warns us.
"Then let's just have his head and we done with it." Gimli says, and I snort. That would be too simple...
"No, we need him alive. We need him to talk." Gandalf says. We remained on our horses, waiting, but only for a few moments. Saruman appears at the top of the tower, glaring down at us.
"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden-king, and made peace afterwards." Saruman says, holding his staff. "Can we not take council together, as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?" I turn and glance at Théoden.
"We shall have peace..." Théoden murmurs, and I frown a little. He raises his voice. "We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of Westfold and the children that lie dead there. We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers, whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet, for the sport of your own crows... We shall have peace."
"Gibbets and crows? Dotard!" Saruman yells down at us. Théoden glares at him in anger. "What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess- the key of Orthanc, or perhaps the key of Barad-dûr itself, along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards!"
"Your treachery has already cost many lives." Gandalf says calmly. "Thousands more are now at risk, but you could save them, Saruman. You were deep in the enemies council."
"So you have come here for information. I have some for you." Saruman says, pulling out a glowing, round ball. A Palantír!
"Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it. Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon." Saruman threatens.
"You're all going to die... but you know this, don't you, Gandalf?" He asks the wizard, then looks at Aragorn, scowling. "You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him, those he professes to love. Tell me... what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you send him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."
"But not you." He glares down at me and I stare right back. "You have avoided me long enough. You are weak. If you join me, I will make you strong and you will live. You will help me, I will help you. They-" He glances at my companions, "-will only drag you down."
I glance at Legolas from the corner of my eye. His fists are clenched tightly around Arod's reins, knuckles white. I lift my chin and stare back up at the White Wizard.
"No."
"Then you can die with them." Saruman snarls.
"I've heard enough." Gimli mutters to Legolas. "Shoot him, stick an arrow in his gob." Legolas immediately reaches for an arrow, but Gandalf interrupts.
"No. Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared."
"Save your pity and mercy, I have no use for it!" Saruman yells, pointing his staff at Gandalf. A column of flame erupts from the tip and shoots down towards us, the fire hissing as it surrounds Gandalf. I stare in shock as the flames die out and Gandalf is fine.
"Saruman, your staff is broken." Gandalf declares, and Saruman's staff shatters to splinters. I see another figure behind him, and squint to see Gríma Wormtongue. Théoden seems to notice him too.
"Gríma, you need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan! Come down." Théoden shouts. Gríma hesitates before bowing his head and turning away, but stops in his tracks as Saruman starts to speak once more. I almost groan in frustration. Doesn't he know when to keep quiet?
"A man of Rohan? What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs? Victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Théoden Horsemaster! You are a lesser son of greater sires."
Well, here's a wizard locked up in his tower like a damsel in distress, I think in amusement.
"Gríma, come down. Be free of him."
"Free?" Saruman howls. "He will never be free!"
"No." Gríma mutters. Saruman turns to face him and strikes him to the floor. "Get down, cur!"
"Saruman, you were deep in the enemy's council. Tell us what you know." Gandalf says. I watch in anticipation as Gríma rises to his feet with a dagger in his hand. He approaches the wizard slowly.
"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here." Saruman shouts, unaware of what is going to happen.
Gríma lunges forwards and stabs the wizard in the back two times. Gandalf grimaces, and I scrunch my face up in disgust. Legolas raises his bow and aims quickly before firing an arrow into Gríma's chest. Gríma lets out a strangled cry and falls backwards.
Saruman stumbles forwards and falls off the tower, flipping in the air. His robes bellow out around him, and he falls straight onto a spike on a water wheel. I stare at his body, not blinking. He deserved this. Merry and Pippin gasp in fear.
"The filth of Saruman is washing away. Trees will come back to live here. Young trees, wild trees." Treebeard rumbles, and I smile. I see Pippin suddenly hop into the water from Brego and wade towards the wheel.
"Pippin." Aragorn calls, but the hobbit doesn't listen. He reaches down and grabs something, carrying the Palantír back over to us. He gazes at the sphere.
"Bless my bark!" Treebeard exclaims.
"Peregrin Took, I'll take that, my lad. Quickly now." Gandalf rides over to Pippin, who reluctantly hands the object to the wizard. He wraps it in fabric and hides in in his cloak. Pippin, with assistance, mounts Aragorn's horse again and we ride back to Edoras.
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