Disclaimer: If I owned LoTR, do you think I'd be writing this? No, because I'd be dead! The only thing I own here is Ilmúr. Just a random name I came up with. But enough chit-chat!

The night was still as it fell over the land of Gondor. In Minas Tirith all the people slept silently, while guards patrolled the city walls. The mountains of Mordor lay on the other side of the realm. Near them, beside the river Anduin, stood what remained of Osgiliath. No soul inhabited these ruins.

As the night went on, something happened at Osgiliath. If someone was close enough, they would see a bright flash in one of the city's towers. However, the guards at Minis Tirith were too far away to see this. An hour later, a strange shape formed at the edge of Osgiliath. The most accurate description for it was a white, wavy line with something like smoke pouring from its edges. For a while it remained still, then, very slowly it began to move. It hovered over to and across the fences of the Pelennor Fields in the direction of Minas Tirith. Its speed increased as it moved. Within a quarter of an hour, it was almost at the city's first wall. Some of the guards had already seen the shape, but stayed still, held in place by some mysterious spell, unable to move. When the shape reached the wall, it stopped. Then it rose into the air, flying high above the first three walls of the city. Any guards that saw this were again held in place. The shape headed towards a small house on the third level of the city and disappeared inside it. The spell on the guards was lifted, but they had no memory of what they'd just seen.

Inside the house's bedroom, a man was sleeping. His name was Ilmúr Dandrough. He was one of the best carpenters in the city, and had been called to make various things for the king himself. His wife had died two years ago and he had never remarried since then. He had no family and no children, just his skill with wood. His grey beard gave an indication of his age, as did the wrinkles set into his forehead.

As Ilmúr lay sleeping, there was a bang in the kitchen that woke him up. He lit a candle, took his knife out from under his pillow and headed towards the source of the noise. He entered the kitchen and found that the mugs he had left on the table had been knocked over. Knife at the ready, he moved out into the hallway. Another clatter came from the bathroom, on the other side of the hall. He looked in, but everything was as it was when he had gone to bed. He turned to go out, but then something came towards him. He knew it was bad. He let out a scream but there was no sound. And then he fell to the ground.

One Week Later

Aragorn sat in his throne in the room at the very top of Minas Tirith, his wife Arwen in hers beside him. Their courtiers were just leaving and they were moving on to their next matter.

"I hope that Ilmúr is able to make it," said Arwen.

"He is one of the city's finest carpenters," said Aragorn. "And I'm sure he will be happy to build a new wardrobe for you."

Just then a guard entered the throne room.

"My lord," he began, "Ilmúr Dandrough has arrived as you requested."

"Excellent," Arwen said. "Send him in."

"Yes, my lady."

The guard left and then Ilmúr came in and bowed.

"Lord Aragorn, Lady Arwen, it is a great honour to be called upon by you. I look forward to creating whatever it is you wish," he said.

"Thank you, Ilmúr. My wife wishes for a new wardrobe. I hope you will be able to handle that."

"Of course, my lord. I may have to examine some of my lady's clothes in order to work out the correct measurements."

"That shouldn't be a problem."

The messenger guard entered again. "My lord, there are two people outside who wish to see you. They say they're old friends."

"What do you mean?" asked Aragorn.

"Get out of my way!" A voice sounded from outside the door. It opened and revealed a man in a long, white robe with a white beard and a staff. Beside him stood a smaller being with black, curly hair. They walked up to the thrones and bowed.

"My friends," said Aragorn, "There is no reason for you to bow before me."

"Aragorn," began Gandalf, "We have important news. It's about..."

Then he noticed Ilmúr standing beside him.

"Oh," exclaimed Aragorn with realisation, "Ilmúr, perhaps you would like to begin the queen's wardrobe? She could show you clothes as you requested."

"Of course, my lord," a strange tone in his voice. He followed Arwen out of the room. When they left, Aragorn turned back to Gandalf and Frodo.

"Gandalf, I thought you went to Valinor. How come you've returned?"

"It is a very urgent matter," began Gandalf, "One that we must discuss privately."

Aragorn understood. "Guards, leave us," he ordered.

The guards left the room and the door shut behind them. Then Gandalf turned back to Aragorn to continue his tale.

"Aragorn, a week ago, in the middle of the night something happened."

"What was it?" Aragorn enquired.

"You remember, when we arrived at Orthanc after the Ent's siege, and I took Saruman's Palantír?"

"Yes?"

"It changed. I have been using it recently to keep watch on the rest of Middle-Earth. But ever since last week, I can't."

"Why is this so important?"

"I have a guess," said Gandalf, "But I will not say until I'm sure. Just one thing: did anything strange happen a week ago?"

"Not that I've heard of," replied Aragorn.

Just then Arwen and Ilmúr returned.

"I must go and make measurements," said Ilmúr. "I should be able to begin the wardrobe tomorrow."

"Thank you," replied Arwen.

Ilmúr noticed Aragorn and Gandalf. He bowed, a strange expression on his face, then left.

"Lady Arwen, who was that?" asked Gandalf.

"Ilmúr Dandrough," she replied. "A carpenter."

"I see. I may have to keep an eye on him."

"Why?" asked Aragorn.

"It's part of my guess," Gandalf replied simply.

*****

Meanwhile, on the third level of Minas Tirith, Ilmúr entered his house. He had an angry expression, his eyes wide with fury. He stalked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. Thoughts were racing through his head.

So, Gandalf has returned to Middle-Earth...he must have known something had happened. But how? Ah, yes, the Palantír. Of course, no one can use it once the essence has been released. No matter, this doesn't affect my plans. Though I will have to move quicker than I had hoped...I must leave now, then.

With that, he left his house for the last time.

*****

Gandalf sat smoking his pipe on the steps of a house near the gate on Minas Tirith's bottom level. He was watching the various traders making their way in and out of the city. Curiously, he took the Palantír out from inside his sleeve and tried to see something in it. Nothing happened. He put it back in his sleeve, irritated. Just then he spotted Ilmúr making his way towards the gate.

"Ilmúr!" he exclaimed, going over to greet him.

"Oh, hello," Ilmúr replied, startled. "You were one of Lord Aragorn's frieends, what was it?"

"Gandalf."

"Ah. Well, it was good seeing you again, Gandalf."

He headed towards the gate again, a little faster. Gandalf spoke to him again.

"Might I ask where you are going?"

"I am going to Fangorn Forest, in Rohan. Minas Tirith is out of wood, and I must make a start on Lady Arwen's wardrobe."

"There was a large supply of wood the last time I checked."

"Check again."

Ilmúr headed over to the gate.

Gandalf spoke again with authority in his voice. "There is no point in hiding your real identity any longer...Saruman!"

Ilmúr turned around slowly, his face full of anger. When he spoke, it was not the voice of Ilmúr, but Saruman.

"I knew you would find out who I was soon enough."

"You should never have returned."

"But there is nothing you can do. I am more powerful than the Maia I once was. How will you stop me?"

As he said this a shadow seemed to engulf him. The two guards at the gate drew their swords and headed towards Ilmúr, or rather Saruman. But Saruman lifted his arms and they flew into the air and smashed against the gate.

"I have returned from death," said Saruman, his voice filling the courtyard with anger and wrath. "And now I have returned, for revenge on those who defeated me!"

"Saruman!" shouted Gandalf. "Turn back from the shadow! I only fought you because there was no other choice! But Sauron's defeated now; turn back from the shadow!"

"Your lies and the lies of the Valar will no longer deceive me! There is nothing that will turn me back on the wrong path! And soon, Middle-Earth will tremble at my knees!"

But suddenly Ilmúr's body faded, and a white line with smoke coming from its edges took its place. As soon as it appeared the Palantír exploded in Gandalf's sleeve. The shards fell out and turned to dust. The white shape rose into the air, flew north-west, then vanished. As it did so, the shadow left the courtyard.

A grave look on his face, Gandalf quickly mounted his horse Shadowfax and galloped to the top of Minas Tirith.

*****

Frodo lay in his bed reading a book in his quarters at the top of the City of Kings. It felt good being back in Middle-Earth, even if it wasn't in the Shire. He didn't know why he decided to accompany Gandalf, maybe he was just homesick. He still missed Valinor for the short time he had been there. More than anything, he missed Bilbo. He was in deep thought when there was a knock on the door and a guard entered.

"Master Hobbit, Lord Aragorn has summoned you."

Frodo closed his book and followed the guard into Aragorn's throne room. He, Arwen and Gandalf were in deep conversation. It took them a while to notice Frodo. When they did, it was Gandalf who spoke.

"Ah! Frodo, my dear boy. Come here! We have much to discuss."

Gandalf briefly told them about his encounter with Saruman in the courtyard, and that he has returned.

"But how?" asked Frodo. "He was killed, wasn't he?"

"Not entirely," replied Gandalf. "He was defeated in a way much like Sauron was in the battle at the end of the Second Age. Saruman's essence lived on, though in a way not even I expected. It seems we have underestimated the powers of the Palantíri, for they hold another ability other than sight.

" Whenever a Palantír is used some of the user's life force goes into it," he explained. "The very essence of a living thing. Whenever the user is killed, their essence is sustained in the Palantír they used. For a while, there is no change. But when the essence is strong enough some of it will leak out. This takes away the Palantír's power to see, making it nothing but a rock. The essence must then seek a host, for it must live in one form or another for the cycle to finish. When it has taken a host, the rest of the essence will join it. Then the user will return from the dead, and the Palantír destroyed."

As he finished his explanation grim faces fell across the other's faces. After what seemed an endless silence, Aragorn spoke.

"So what do we do?"

"There are many preparations that must be made. Saruman is preparing for war, we must warn the rest of Middle-Earth."

"I will arrange for messengers to be sent out to our allies."

"There is one other thing," said Gandalf. "The cycle of Saruman's essence is not yet complete. He must yet take a place from his enemies in which to establish himself."

"But that could be anywhere? What direction did his essence go? That might give us a clue."

A look of realization came over Gandalf's face as he replied, "It went north-west."

"North west? Let's see, that will take him over Anduin into Rohan. Then-"

He stopped as he also worked it out. Then Gandalf said, "He's going to Isengard."

"We must warn the Ents."

"No!" exclaimed Gandalf. "There is no point. The essence of a being cannot be destroyed by anything in the living world. The Ents will fall swiftly."

"Then we can send reinforcements-"

"Aren't you listening? Any living thing that opposes that essence will be destroyed before it has a chance to draw any weapon!" His voice softened as he walked closer to Aragorn. "When he has taken Isengard he will no longer be an essence. By that time we will have called our allies and will stand a chance."

Aragorn understood and nodded as he went off to prepare the messengers.

*****

And so the messengers were sent out, and their call didn't go unanswered. For people of each race of Middle-Earth hurried to Gondor. There were also some old friends who came. Legolas Greenleaf came from the Elven settlement he had built in the woods of Ithilien. Gimli, son of Glóin, Lord of the Glittering caves came back from Helm's Deep. Éomer, king of Rohan and nephew of Théoden, was also able to come. But that was not all, for the call was heard in the farthest reaches of Middle-Earth. The Lords of the Shire, as they were known, hurried to aid their old friends: Samwise Gamgee, mayor of Hobbiton, Meriadoc Brandybuck, a captain of the Riddermark, and Peregrin Took, a knight of Gondor.

And so began the return of Saruman.

DUHNDUHNDUHNNNNNNNNNNNN! Saruman's back! What's going to happen? One way to find out: Review! Then I will add more chapters. All reviews are welcome! P.S. Flaming allowed. (Paige/Emmett laughs evilly.) I'm a bit down after getting no reviews on one of my stories I don't care what type I get on this one.

P.P.S. You'll know what story that was by looking at my profile.

Enjoy and review!