Eodern of Rohan clutched her basket to her chest and looked furtively
around as she crept out of her house, unseen. In her basket was hidden her
greatest secret, and she hoped it would not be found. The girl lived on the
edge of Fangorn Forest, and the first of it's leaves in the new year of
2953 were just beginning to grow. Under her bare feet, the ice covered
ground crunched.
She knew that her mother had strictly forbidden her to enter Fangorn, but her secret needed exercising. Again, she checked to make sure she was alone, and then she set her basket on the floor and opened it.
From inside came possibly one of the most evil minded creatures in existence. Had it been human, it would very probably have attempted world domination, vying with Sauron.
It was a cat.
Large, scruffy, missing one of its yellow eyes and half its tale, the cat was ugly enough to have made an orc look pretty. It's heightened senses were sharp enough to rival those of the cats that had belonged to Queen Beruthiel, and it was said that they could have found their way home in the pitch black, through forest, over mountains and through dales. This cat, as it happened, did not feel the need to go 'home'. 'Home' was the place with the food. Currently that place was the home of Eodern.
"Go on Fluffy, you can hunt now," trilled Eodern. With a slow blink of its one eye, the cat stalked off to try and find a doe. Possibly a horse, if it was lucky, but this was Rohan. Best not to push luck too far.
When the cat had disappeared in to the darkness that took Fangorn Forest just before dawn, Eodern hugged herself and shivered. She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders, and wished that she had not been as proud as to refuse the shoes offered to her for a kiss by the strange traveling man just at the start of winter.
Suddenly, she was startled by a voice behind her. The voice dripped with power and some sweet substance that made all the words of the blacksmith's lad sound like the growls of a warg.
"I did not think that Rohirric mothers let their daughters enter Fangorn."
Eodern span around, her breath catching. In front of her stood a tall man, very old, with a long white beard and long white hair. He reminded her a little of her ancient grandfather before he had died two years ago. In one hand was a long, black staff. It had a knob on the end.
"Who are you?" she trembled. Her mother had always warned her not to talk to strangers, and this man was certainly very strange.
"I have many names, but mostly they call me Saruman. Saruman the White. May I enquire as to with whom I speak?"
Eodern moved her lips, working out the meaning of the question. She may have been pretty - not beautiful, nor anything remarkable, but pretty enough for her kind - but she was not intelligent. At last, she worked out the question.
"I am Eodern. Are you a wizard?"
The old man laughed; a beautiful sound. Possibly more beautiful than anything Eodern had ever heard. More pleasing to listen to than the whinny of a new born horse, and sweeter than the song of the birds. Perhaps, if honey had a sound, that is what Eodern would have compared the voice to. At least, if she was any good at romantic imagery, but she was not.
"Yes, young lady, I am a wizard. I wonder again though, what are you doing in Fangorn Forest at this hour? Surely your mother would not let you here alone. Or perhaps you are married, and your husband is careless?"
At this, the Rohirrim lass blushed. Fancy, a wizard thinking that she would be married. Her best friend was, yes, but the blacksmith's lad was so shy and nervous. So slow. She would be lucky if he asked for her to be his wife before her head was covered in grey hairs. Or perhaps white ones.
"I am not married, sir. My mother doesn't know I'm here. I'm letting Fluffy hunt." Eodern felt that she could confide in Saruman, despite his being a complete stranger to her, so she lowered her voice and whispered "Fluffy is a secret. Mother doesn't know about him."
Saruman smiled. His eye twinkled but somehow to Eodern, the smile was cold. Perhaps it was because the old man was not speaking. The sweet voice was not muffling her senses.
"Did your mother never tell you that it is wrong to deceive people, Eodern?"
Feeling ashamed of herself, Eodern nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on the white shoes of the ancient creature in front of her.
"I am looking for a place to live. A grand place. Somewhere I can fortify. Somewhere...safe. Perhaps you can think of such a place, Eodern?"
It was the voice, Eodern decided later. Definitely the voice. The way he said her name. She felt special. Important. She had never felt truly special before. Having four other siblings, and being neither the eldest nor the youngest, she did not feel at all special at home, and the blacksmith's boy did not compose her love poems or sing songs to her, or give her precious gifts, so he did not make her feel very special either. For a while, the traveler who had wanted the kiss in exchange for a pair of shoes had made her feel special, but then she found out that one of the girls had given him the kiss, and more, so she no longer felt special.
"My uncle is the lord around here. You could stay in his halls. His halls are very safe. The king stayed there three summers ago."
For a while, the old wizard thought, and then he shook his head.
"No, your uncles' hall is not safe enough. Besides, your uncle lives there. I need somewhere much more...private."
Eodern looked around for inspiration. The old man needed a place to live, or he would most likely die, come the next frosts. The frosts and snow always killed off the old men and women, every year.
"There is only one other place...other than the halls of the king himself...but..." Eodern faltered. Something felt wrong. Saruman the white leant forwards, putting pressure on his staff.
"Where?" It was the voice again. The honeyed voice that made everything alright.
"The tower of Isengard..."
The rising sunlight filtered through the trees and caught in the eyes of the ancient Maia. The glint it gave off was triumphant. Victorious.
"Ah, the tower of Isengard. I had not thought of that. Yes, Eodern, I think that will do me very well. Tell me, Eodern, ought you not be getting back to your mother? The dawn has arrived."
Eodern shrugged. "Mother will not miss me for sometime. She has the little twins to look after. Father never misses me; he only cares for my brothers. The blacksmith's boy won't miss me either. He's away visiting his aunt, because she has just given birth."
A smile crept across the old mans face. This time, it was a warm, friendly smile. The sort of smile that said 'it's alright, you can trust me'. He nodded his old white head, slowly.
"Perhaps you would like to accompany me to Isengard, young Eodern?"
Again, Eodern faltered. It was terribly tempting, but her mother and the blacksmiths boy would miss her if she did. Perhaps if she just left them a note...
"I am sure you would not be missed."
Eodern gave in. Of course they would not miss her. Saruman was good, and wise. She had heard tales of him once when the bard stood up and sang for his supper and a place to stay. Saruman would not lie to her; she could trust him. He held out a wrinkled hand to her, and slowly, cautiously, she reached out her own hand, sun kissed from all the time she had spent in the fields her uncle owned.
It was at that moment Fluffy chose to make his entrance; Eodern's secret. He hissed suddenly, arching his back, shackles raised. He spat at Saruman, who jumped and recoiled slightly.
With a short scream, Eodern came to her senses. It was daylight. The time had gone so quickly! Even if her parents or the blacksmith's boy did not miss her, the stable boy would wonder why she was not in the stable doing her chores. With a terrified, apologetic glance at the old wizard, Eodern shoved Fluffy in to the basket and fled, running as fast as her bare, dirty feet would carry her.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
The next morning, Eodern returned to the spot where she had met Saruman, wishing that she could hear his voice again, wanting to go to Isengard with him. He was not there though.
Every morning she would go to the same spot, and every morning she left, feeling dispirited and unhappy.
At last, in the summer of the same year, the blacksmiths boy asked nervously to marry her, and she accepted. They married, and became a mother of three, and she stopped having to hide Fluffy, but she never was truly happy. The memory of the old man with the sweet, sweet voice never left her, ever haunting her.
At last, years later when her hair was white with the years and her face as wrinkled as crumpled cloth, she heard that Saruman had bred an army of orc crossed with men, and she shuddered when she heard it.
"So that was what he wanted me for, all those years ago" she thought to herself, and then she tickled Fluffy, overfed and with many, many offspring of his own, and she was forever thankful to her deadly, murderous cat, and loved him all the more.
She knew that her mother had strictly forbidden her to enter Fangorn, but her secret needed exercising. Again, she checked to make sure she was alone, and then she set her basket on the floor and opened it.
From inside came possibly one of the most evil minded creatures in existence. Had it been human, it would very probably have attempted world domination, vying with Sauron.
It was a cat.
Large, scruffy, missing one of its yellow eyes and half its tale, the cat was ugly enough to have made an orc look pretty. It's heightened senses were sharp enough to rival those of the cats that had belonged to Queen Beruthiel, and it was said that they could have found their way home in the pitch black, through forest, over mountains and through dales. This cat, as it happened, did not feel the need to go 'home'. 'Home' was the place with the food. Currently that place was the home of Eodern.
"Go on Fluffy, you can hunt now," trilled Eodern. With a slow blink of its one eye, the cat stalked off to try and find a doe. Possibly a horse, if it was lucky, but this was Rohan. Best not to push luck too far.
When the cat had disappeared in to the darkness that took Fangorn Forest just before dawn, Eodern hugged herself and shivered. She pulled her shawl closer around her shoulders, and wished that she had not been as proud as to refuse the shoes offered to her for a kiss by the strange traveling man just at the start of winter.
Suddenly, she was startled by a voice behind her. The voice dripped with power and some sweet substance that made all the words of the blacksmith's lad sound like the growls of a warg.
"I did not think that Rohirric mothers let their daughters enter Fangorn."
Eodern span around, her breath catching. In front of her stood a tall man, very old, with a long white beard and long white hair. He reminded her a little of her ancient grandfather before he had died two years ago. In one hand was a long, black staff. It had a knob on the end.
"Who are you?" she trembled. Her mother had always warned her not to talk to strangers, and this man was certainly very strange.
"I have many names, but mostly they call me Saruman. Saruman the White. May I enquire as to with whom I speak?"
Eodern moved her lips, working out the meaning of the question. She may have been pretty - not beautiful, nor anything remarkable, but pretty enough for her kind - but she was not intelligent. At last, she worked out the question.
"I am Eodern. Are you a wizard?"
The old man laughed; a beautiful sound. Possibly more beautiful than anything Eodern had ever heard. More pleasing to listen to than the whinny of a new born horse, and sweeter than the song of the birds. Perhaps, if honey had a sound, that is what Eodern would have compared the voice to. At least, if she was any good at romantic imagery, but she was not.
"Yes, young lady, I am a wizard. I wonder again though, what are you doing in Fangorn Forest at this hour? Surely your mother would not let you here alone. Or perhaps you are married, and your husband is careless?"
At this, the Rohirrim lass blushed. Fancy, a wizard thinking that she would be married. Her best friend was, yes, but the blacksmith's lad was so shy and nervous. So slow. She would be lucky if he asked for her to be his wife before her head was covered in grey hairs. Or perhaps white ones.
"I am not married, sir. My mother doesn't know I'm here. I'm letting Fluffy hunt." Eodern felt that she could confide in Saruman, despite his being a complete stranger to her, so she lowered her voice and whispered "Fluffy is a secret. Mother doesn't know about him."
Saruman smiled. His eye twinkled but somehow to Eodern, the smile was cold. Perhaps it was because the old man was not speaking. The sweet voice was not muffling her senses.
"Did your mother never tell you that it is wrong to deceive people, Eodern?"
Feeling ashamed of herself, Eodern nodded, keeping her eyes fixed on the white shoes of the ancient creature in front of her.
"I am looking for a place to live. A grand place. Somewhere I can fortify. Somewhere...safe. Perhaps you can think of such a place, Eodern?"
It was the voice, Eodern decided later. Definitely the voice. The way he said her name. She felt special. Important. She had never felt truly special before. Having four other siblings, and being neither the eldest nor the youngest, she did not feel at all special at home, and the blacksmith's boy did not compose her love poems or sing songs to her, or give her precious gifts, so he did not make her feel very special either. For a while, the traveler who had wanted the kiss in exchange for a pair of shoes had made her feel special, but then she found out that one of the girls had given him the kiss, and more, so she no longer felt special.
"My uncle is the lord around here. You could stay in his halls. His halls are very safe. The king stayed there three summers ago."
For a while, the old wizard thought, and then he shook his head.
"No, your uncles' hall is not safe enough. Besides, your uncle lives there. I need somewhere much more...private."
Eodern looked around for inspiration. The old man needed a place to live, or he would most likely die, come the next frosts. The frosts and snow always killed off the old men and women, every year.
"There is only one other place...other than the halls of the king himself...but..." Eodern faltered. Something felt wrong. Saruman the white leant forwards, putting pressure on his staff.
"Where?" It was the voice again. The honeyed voice that made everything alright.
"The tower of Isengard..."
The rising sunlight filtered through the trees and caught in the eyes of the ancient Maia. The glint it gave off was triumphant. Victorious.
"Ah, the tower of Isengard. I had not thought of that. Yes, Eodern, I think that will do me very well. Tell me, Eodern, ought you not be getting back to your mother? The dawn has arrived."
Eodern shrugged. "Mother will not miss me for sometime. She has the little twins to look after. Father never misses me; he only cares for my brothers. The blacksmith's boy won't miss me either. He's away visiting his aunt, because she has just given birth."
A smile crept across the old mans face. This time, it was a warm, friendly smile. The sort of smile that said 'it's alright, you can trust me'. He nodded his old white head, slowly.
"Perhaps you would like to accompany me to Isengard, young Eodern?"
Again, Eodern faltered. It was terribly tempting, but her mother and the blacksmiths boy would miss her if she did. Perhaps if she just left them a note...
"I am sure you would not be missed."
Eodern gave in. Of course they would not miss her. Saruman was good, and wise. She had heard tales of him once when the bard stood up and sang for his supper and a place to stay. Saruman would not lie to her; she could trust him. He held out a wrinkled hand to her, and slowly, cautiously, she reached out her own hand, sun kissed from all the time she had spent in the fields her uncle owned.
It was at that moment Fluffy chose to make his entrance; Eodern's secret. He hissed suddenly, arching his back, shackles raised. He spat at Saruman, who jumped and recoiled slightly.
With a short scream, Eodern came to her senses. It was daylight. The time had gone so quickly! Even if her parents or the blacksmith's boy did not miss her, the stable boy would wonder why she was not in the stable doing her chores. With a terrified, apologetic glance at the old wizard, Eodern shoved Fluffy in to the basket and fled, running as fast as her bare, dirty feet would carry her.
~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~
The next morning, Eodern returned to the spot where she had met Saruman, wishing that she could hear his voice again, wanting to go to Isengard with him. He was not there though.
Every morning she would go to the same spot, and every morning she left, feeling dispirited and unhappy.
At last, in the summer of the same year, the blacksmiths boy asked nervously to marry her, and she accepted. They married, and became a mother of three, and she stopped having to hide Fluffy, but she never was truly happy. The memory of the old man with the sweet, sweet voice never left her, ever haunting her.
At last, years later when her hair was white with the years and her face as wrinkled as crumpled cloth, she heard that Saruman had bred an army of orc crossed with men, and she shuddered when she heard it.
"So that was what he wanted me for, all those years ago" she thought to herself, and then she tickled Fluffy, overfed and with many, many offspring of his own, and she was forever thankful to her deadly, murderous cat, and loved him all the more.