Well guys, here comes the next addition!
Disclaimer: Don't own anything except the plot and OC's. Duh.
Set after the Battle of Hornburg. Sam and Frodo has already passed through the Dead Marshes.
In Middle Earth, the evening this tale began
Saruman viewed the company of insolent fools gathering around his fortress with a feeling almost close to glee. Yes, his army of ten thousand (which surely should have worked) had fallen. He was greatly outnumbered, and if they weighed their decision whether or not to kill him on popular vote, then he should go ahead and fall on his own sword.
But, he had a secret up his sleeves. Whistling a staccato tune, he turned from the window and made his way through his accommodations. Down a random hallway and to his right was a staircase you would never notice. Yet, when he came in contact with it, one would seem to wonder just how in the world they missed such an obvious opening.
The white wizard hurried down the steps, sensing that the fellowship was drawing nearer. He was the only being that had ever been in this tiny alcove. Even pests and vermin turned away.
Near the back of the room, he came to a pedestal with a large, wooden, chained and locked box. With a passing glance, it wouldn't be anything extremely unusual. Especially when it's overshadowed by the floating organs in jars of various species, the book in the corner that twitched, and the collection of sparking magical objects on shelves.
Still though, when Saruman would relax his body and let down his defenses, he started feeling almost sickly. The longer he stayed in that room, the fainter he felt. Remarkably, by the time it took for him to cross the 15 hand distance, the nauseous feeling had been replaced by a severe pulling sensation.
A witty, sharp mind, the notorious wizard could usually withstand the feel of magical relics. But with this stone…it was all he could think about. Since it came into his possession, by mere chance, he found his thoughts straying to it.
Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, he rested his hands on the box. It seemed to warm in welcome under his touch, as a lover would when they knew they were about to be satisfied.
It took a small, simple charm to open it. The chains clattered to the ground, startling him. How interesting, he mused, it's been ages since something got the better of me. I haven't been able to concentrate ever since I found the stone.
Green light suddenly erupted from the box, throwing open the lid. It pulsed like a heartbeat, and the powerful waves of old magic forced the wizard with such younger power back, almost to his knees. A strong random pulse pushed him against the wall, sending shocking pain through his shoulder pains. The box suddenly erupted.
Apparently even artifacts dislike being placed in captivity, he marveled. The stone was acting in an almost rebellious matter. The more he pushed against the power of the stone, the more it returned the favor.
Saruman didn't have time for this. Even though all of this couldn't have taken more than two or three minutes, the morons were only getting closer.
Bracing himself against the stone wall of the room, he shoved his staff towards the stone. He brought to mind the faces of all of those gypsy-traveling idiots who were only alive by the sake of luck.
To Earth, Calima he thought while thinking first of those forsaken hobbits. He hoped all four of them landed in the great waters that covered so much, with the ring weighing them all down. The two friends were with the company outside, but he was sure the ring-carrier and his dutiful servant-boy had past the Dead Marshes by now. No matter. Old magic such as this doesn't dilute over distances.
The elf and his stubby dwarf are next. To Earth, Calima. Then send the Ranger away from his Elven whore. Calima! You came to me! Send them all to Earth. I have no quell with the other humans, not enough to send them to torture them by sending them away. It will be simple to defeat them after I take care of the moron that's unfit to call himself a wizard.
Gandalf must be absolutely petrified at this turn of events. Saruman attempted to smile, but it came out as a grimace-like snarl. It's been a long while since he's used those muscles. Oh, I do hope this drives him completely mad. It will be most satisfying to see his face fall when he learns of their demise. It will be the last thing
Outside of the Tower
The entire companies' hearts were heavily pounding, except Gandalf. Even the horses were skittish, constantly trying to turn back.
War, they understood. You fought, and you either lived, or died. There was good, and bad. Even Friendship, and love, and loss they understood. But magic, spells and charms where something else completely.
It's natural to fear something you know nothing about other than there's no way you can control it, and that it's potentially dangerous, destructive, and fatal.
Thus, every man, elf, hobbit, and dwarf hearts' were replaced with warring butterflies.
It seemed as though those butterflies attempted to retreat into the inner depths of their soul when jade light began to shine through the windows of the white wizards' tower.
"Hey, Pippin. That's not supposed to happen, is it?" Merry turned to closest friend, confusion furrowing his brow.
"Nay Merry, I don't suppose so. Aye, Gandalf! I don't suppose he has fireworks up there, does he?" asked Pippin, letting a little excitement seep through his wariness.
The wizard shook his head. "No, my dear boy. This is something else entirely".
Nudging his horse forward, Legolas Greenleaf, prince of Mirkwood, trotted up next to Gandalf. The dwarf behind him hugged his waist as to not fall off with the sudden movement, and Legolas smirked at his friend. He leaned forward to speak quietly to wizard. "There is an old magic here, Gandalf." He nodded his head towards the tower. "Magic like I've never encountered in all my years. What should we do?"
"We attack! I'm tired of this waiting!" Saying that, Gimli jumped off the horse, landing in a graceful heap on his rump. Legolas leaned down from the horse to help him up, shaking his head.
Theoden shook his head at the dwarf's actions. In the past, his antics entertained him, but his normally courageous heart was heavy.
Gandalf called Saruman's name. The strange light was beginning to unnerve him. He could feel his skin tingling, sensing powerful magic. His call was unanswered, and the green light began to pulse in waves.
Hearing a ruckus and shouts for help behind him, he twisted atop his saddle. His eyes widened at the sight.
Merry and Pippin were fading. He could see the forms of the grass and rocks behind him. "What trickery is this?" exclaimed Gimli as he ran to the young boys. He tried to grab Merry, but his hand went right through his leg. The dwarf stared at them, tears of sadness and anger forming in his eyes.
They were grabbing onto their clothing in panic, hastily looking at themselves, each other, and the others' for help. Before their forms disappeared completely, they grabbed onto eachother, each exclaiming the others' name. Then Merry and Pippin were lost from sight. Their horses danced in fear.
Before any of the men could do anything, the normally composed Legolas gasped. He stared down in wonder at his hand, seeing the hair of his mount through it. He looked towards his friends, seeing that the same was happening to Gimli. He was slightly assured knowing he wouldn't be alone in this journey. With the sounds of Gimli's exclamations in the background, he leaned towards Gandalf. "Defeat the Saruman and Sauron. Bring the light back to this land." Then he was gone and Gimli's cries were silenced with him.
Through all the chaos, Aragon was silent. He's heard of this magic. Arwen and he had talked about old magic before. He wasn't surprised as he started to fade and looked to the rest of the company.
He looked directly into Gandalf's eyes, seeing black around his vision. "Find us, old friend. We will see eachother again soon. Do not give up. Tell Arwen-" and he was gone.
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Coming Soon: How not to make a first impression.