The Journey of Saruman Part One
The Escape from Isengard
By: lordoftheringslover434
A Quick Note - I am basing this off of both movie and book, but I am disregarding the scouring of the Shire, and we will start off at the end of "The Voice of Saruman." The following will be one possible outcome of what would happen if Saruman was not stabbed by Wormtongue atop of Orthanc following the battle at the Hornburg. Sorry if it is terrible. Enjoy!
A voice shouted up from the ruined, water logged mess that was Isengard. "Saruman, you were deep in the enemy's council. Tell us what you know." The white wizard stood atop the massive tower of Orthanc, his cloak gently blowing in the wind. Saruman was blind to the fact that behind him, Grima pulled out a knife and began to creep towards Saruman. "You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided." Saruman yelled down at Gandalf, yet he still ignored what was unveiling itself behind him. Grima began to lunge at Saruman. His face was purple with anger and he placed his hand on Saruman's shoulder, preparing to stab him. Saruman began to turn his head towards Grima. At that very second, an arrow sank deep into Wormtongue's chest. Grima gasped for a second or two. His eyes were wide open, and his mouth slightly gaped open in shock. He stood for another second before collapsing. Both Saruman and Wormtongue were dangerously close to the edge of the pinnacle, yet Wormtongue took a long fall, finally landing on a spiked, wooden wheel sitting slightly to the left of the tower.
Saruman took a long pause, he had just narrowly avoided his doom. He then thought to himself about many treacherous things. There was now an even greater rustling than before, lots of the leaves in the forest began to shake. "A storm is coming" Legolas whispered to the group, sensing the obvious silence. "What of Saruman?" King Théoden of Rohan inquired to the group. "Leave him. There is nothing more he can do" Said Gandalf. And it was so, that the trees would in time grow back, and the ents would create new saplings, and life would resume. The burnt scar that was Saruman's war effort, would in time heal. Théoden peered at Saruman with distrust and anger, wanting to slay the white wizard for his many crimes, but eventually the group headed off to Edoras. That left Saruman alone atop his mighty tower. He looked down at what remained of his shattered staff, practically nothing. Immediately he gritted his teeth and kicked the remnants off the tower, to blow away in the high winds. There was no power left in them. Saruman then descended back down into his tower. It was beginning to get dark now. He hastily grabbed the key of Orthanc, a couple of books, a few vials, and of course, some food from the pantry. He threw on a black cloak, which he occasionally used when he wished to travel middle earth unseen. The door flung open, and out walked Saruman. He stopped for a moment, realizing what he had forgotten. He turned around and slowly went back into the tower, fearing for what he might see. Sitting on the pedestal was the palantir. He dared not look into it, not now at least. He hunched over it, it was wrapped in a gray cloth. The wizard grasped his arm out and grabbed it. The cloth was cold. Dropping it somewhere in his robes, he continued out the door. The wind was really picking up at this point. The dark clouds piling in the sky were ominous. He closed the door and locked it, putting the key in his bag, along with the other items. A slight drizzle of rain began to blow in the wind. Saruman walked down the black steps, eventually having to trot through the flooded land. Saruman took a glance at the wooden pike, there Grima was, and there he would stay. But right as Saruman took a long gander at the wooden wheel, a huge gust of wind, like never before, hit the wheel in just the right place. Within seconds, the wheel turned and sank the lifeless Grima into the mud. There he would rot along with all the poison he inflicted upon the peoples of Rohan. Saruman turned his head and left the grim sight. After a short walk, he headed through the crack in the wall that the ents created, and slipped unseen through the rocks and the forest.
Over the many days that were to come, the wanderer, cloaked in black, made his way through mountains, meadows, and valleys. He wandered day and night, rain and sun. It was many days ago that he passed Edoras, he saw the men partying, celebrating, and drinking to his defeat. But Saruman lived on. He took a single horse from the stables there. Eventually, after many moons, Saruman found himself only a mile away from one of the finest cities in all of Middle Earth, Minas Tirith, the white city. He glared at its beauty, yet it was beginning to fall into ruin. He suspected Mithrandir had already arrived, but he was uncertain. He rode to the gate. The guards drew their bows at Saruman, obviously paranoid of any spies from Mordor. "May ye let me in. Tired I am, weary I am, please do me aid!" Saruman yelled at the gatekeepers above. Saruman still kept the power of his voice, which he had used atop Orthanc when confronting Gandalf and the others. Although his power had lessened, he was beginning to regain strength. So it was, that the guards opened the gate, feeling sorry for the old man. The gates closed behind him, and Saruman took a last glance at the fiery scar in the sky, coming from Mordor. He knew he had to act fast. He parked his horse at a nearby stable, and headed up the white steps.