"Where are you going, again?"
Gandalf chuckled slightly and glanced down at the small mob of dwarves and one hobbit that had been following him around the mountain for most of the past week.
"I've already explained myself several times, Master Dwarf," he replied airily, earning himself a dark scowl from Gimli.
"No, you didn't," the youngest dwarf countered. "You just said that you were leaving for Orc-thanks."
"Orthanc," Gandalf corrected automatically. He paused and shot Gimli an assessing glance, his lips twitching up into a small smile. "I must go and speak with Saruman, the leader of my order. He is the White Council's expert on the Ring of Sauron, and he may be able to give us some advice on how to proceed."
Gimli nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful. Gandalf caught a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye and glanced up to see Legolas walking towards them. A silver mare trotted behind the elf prince, her dark eyes kind. Gandalf smiled and reached out towards the horse, his smile widening when the animal moved to his side without hesitation. The dwarves surrounding Gandalf hastily stepped away from the wizard as the large horse drew closer, until only Bilbo remained by his side. The hobbit's eyes were troubled beneath his honey-brown hair, although Gandalf noted with relief that Bilbo did not seem to be as tormented as he had been when the Ring was first discovered.
"You do promise that you will come back before the Council, don't you?" he asked quietly.
The wizard chuckled once more and crouched down until he was nearly at eye-level with the hobbit, his arms held open in silent invitation. Bilbo hurried into Gandalf's embrace without hesitation, his thin arms wrapping around the wizard's neck with surprising strength.
"I will do my best to return in time to accompany you to Lothlórien," he assured Bilbo.
Gandalf felt a small pang of foreboding go through him as the hobbit smiled up at him, his gentle blue eyes full of trust. The wizard shook himself and returned the smaller being's smile, his grey eyes flickering across the faces of the dwarves that had come with Bilbo to say farewell in an effort to distract himself.
"Have the other members of the company decided not to come and see me off?" he asked with false outrage.
"Hardly," Thorin's voice boomed from the other side of Erebor's half-ruined entrance hall. Dís, Dwalin, Balin, Dori, Oin and Gloin shadowed the dwarf king's footsteps as they moved to join Bilbo and the remaining members of the company. Gandalf felt his lips twitch with a barely-restrained smile when Thorin drew close to the hobbit, his calloused fingers barely brushing against the back of Bilbo's hand.
In the aftermath of the Battle of the Five Armies, as Ori had timidly dubbed the ordeal, it had become rare for Thorin to leave Bilbo's side for longer than an hour. Even in the midst of negotiations with Bard and Dain over the future of Dale and Erebor, the hobbit was often seated within arm's reach of the king. Despite a few spluttered objections to his sudden inclusion in political meetings, Bilbo didn't appear to mind the dwarf king's attentions. The frequent interactions between the king and the hobbit had become a source of never-ending amusement for Gandalf, although he noticed that his amusement had not extended to Dís and her sons, who barely bothered to hide their frustration at Bilbo and Thorin's inability to openly acknowledge their feelings for each other.
"We had to inspect a few of the mines before we could come and see you," Thorin explained, oblivious to the wizard's thoughts.
Gandalf merely raised his eyebrows in polite interest, his lips twitching again when he caught the concerned look that Bilbo sent in the dwarf king's direction.
"Aren't you still supposed to be resting?" the hobbit asked wryly, his gaze flickering towards the bandages that were barely visible beneath Thorin's tunic.
Thorin shifted with the barest hint of discomfort and shrugged. "There are many things in Erebor that require my attention. I can't afford to rest when there is still work to be done."
"We threatened to tie him to the bed," Dís broke in flatly. "I don't think he believed us."
Thorin shook his head with a small smile, only to pause when he caught sight of Bilbo's expression.
"Foolish dwarf," Bilbo chided lightly. "Never underestimate a woman when she sets her mind to something."
"Are you speaking from experience, Master Baggins?" Thorin shot back.
Bilbo merely laughed and turned back to Gandalf, apparently oblivious to the flash of jealous curiosity that appeared in Thorin's eyes for the briefest of moments. The wizard barely held back his own laugh and carefully pulled himself into the saddle of his horse. He saw Bilbo's smile fade and felt another flash of unease in his gut.
"I will return shortly," he promised, both to himself and to the throng of faces that stared up at him gravely. "Isengard is not so far from Erebor, and I should be able to return before the month is out if the weather is good." He hesitated and glanced down at Bilbo again, his eyes lingering on the large blue jacket that covered the hobbit's shoulders in place of his usual coat.
Bilbo hadn't dared to touch the Ring after the test with the fire. The Ring, and the coat that carried it, had remained in Thorin's personal chambers, and at least two members of the Company were always posted outside of the door whenever Bilbo was absent from the room. Although Gandalf had held a few private doubts over the ability of the dwarves to resist the Ring's influence, it appeared that the Company's recent brush with gold-lust had made them more resistant to the call of cursed gold for the time being. It didn't hurt matters that the Ring had apparently remained silent since Bilbo's recovery, though Gandalf couldn't help but wonder how long the silence would last…
"If I do not return within the month," the wizard added slowly, his eyes flickering between Thorin and Bilbo's attentive faces. "Or if something should occur that puts the safety of the Ring in jeopardy, I want you to go to Lothlórien without me. The elves of Mirkwood will be able to show you the way to the forest of Lórien, and the Lady Galadriel will welcome you to her kingdom with or without my presence. Do you understand?"
"Perfectly," Thorin replied curtly, his fingers twitching as if they longed to curl around the hobbit's smaller hand.
Bilbo merely nodded, his blue eyes darkening with fear once more. Gandalf flashed the hobbit a reassuring smile and waved in farewell to the others before he set out for Isengard.
*Bagginshield*Bagginshield*Bagginshield*
"...Bofur and Gloin believe that we can start sending teams into the western mines as early as tomorrow, although I believe that Dain has his doubts about the venture. Most of the dwarves from the Iron Hills are not miners, and the reinforcements from the Iron Hills should arrive within the week. According to Dain, several of our miners from the Blue Mountains had travelled to the Iron Hills after our Company left, so it is likely that they will be among the reinforcements that are coming now. It might be wise to wait until they arrive before we start looking into the mines," Balin reported. The old dwarf paced slowly across the length of the meeting room, his sharp eyes narrowed thoughtfully above his snowy beard.
"I agree," Dís added. "Although perhaps it would be better to at least send some men down into the mines before the other dwarves arrive, just to make sure that the tunnels are safe for mining?"
"Who would we send down?" Balin countered. "Bofur and Gloin are knowledgeable enough, and I know that Dori and Oin are both skilled in engineering, but four dwarves are hardly enough to send into one of the largest areas of the mines."
"Then send some of Dain's men," she argued.
"We don' know if any of Dain's men have the skill," Dwalin reminded her gruffly.
"And I suppose it's too difficult to simply ask him?" Dís shot back. "I do believe that my cousin would know if any of his men were willing and able to investigate some of the mines of Erebor."
Dwalin huffed and glanced over at Thorin.
"What do you think?" he asked.
The King of Erebor jumped slightly and flashed Dwalin a blank look, his cheeks flushing with the smallest hint of red as he slowly caught up with the conversation.
"Ah… I agree with Balin," he answered hastily.
"Really?" Dís said dryly.
Thorin glared balefully at his sister, his hands twitching instinctively towards the hobbit that usually rested by his side. Dwalin snorted at the gesture and turned away before Thorin could glare at him as well, his smile widening when he caught sight of his older brother's slight smirk.
"What's on your mind, Thorin?" Balin asked casually. "Obviously not mining."
Thorin ignored the older dwarf's wry comment and glanced towards the hallway that Bilbo had been dragged into by a pair of grinning dwarven princes several minutes ago.
"…What do you think he meant by that laugh earlier?" the dwarf king said slowly.
"Oh Mahal, not this again," Dwalin groaned, earning himself another glare from his old friend.
"Thorin," Dís broke in before her brother could attack the guard. "We've already been over this- obviously, Bilbo has been around enough women in his lifetime to know that we are always right."
Thorin rolled his eyes.
"But what kind of women?" he muttered to himself. "He doesn't have any sisters… at least, I don't think that he has any. Gandalf didn't say whether or not the hobbit had any siblings, and I didn't see the need to ask until now."
"Why don't you ask Bilbo?" Balin suggested.
"Wouldn't that be a miracle?" Dís grumbled. "Imagine, Thorin actually having a conversation with Master Baggins."
"Bilbo and I have plenty of conversations," Thorin objected, his dark blue eyes flashing with defensive fury.
"Yes, but not about anything important!" his sister yelled back. "Tell me, Thorin, have you told the hobbit that you wish to court him?"
Dwalin watched Thorin's cheeks darken into a deeper shade of red and felt his lips tremble with the effort of holding back his laughter. Mahal, he hadn't seen Thorin Oakenshield this flustered since before Smaug's arrival…
"I… have not found the right time to approach Bilbo in regards to this matter," the King Under the Mountain said stiffly.
"Ah," Dís sneered. "Well, then, have you at least told Bilbo that you admire him?"
"I-."
"Have you mentioned anything about how devastated you were when you thought that he was dead? Don't bother to deny it," she added hotly when Thorin opened his mouth to object. "Fíli, Kíli, and Dwalin have all informed me that you looked absolutely destroyed when Azog claimed that he had murdered your hobbit."
Dwalin didn't even flinch when Thorin shot him a betrayed look. The dwarven warrior simply lifted his shoulders in a slight shrug, stubbornly ignoring the amused glances that he was now receiving from his brother.
"I have not," Thorin admitted grudgingly. "It hardly seems relevant-."
"Please tell me that you two have at least talked about that fiasco with the Arkensto-."
"Enough!" Thorin barked, his expression suddenly harsh with barely-restrained anger.
Dís fell silent immediately and watched her brother through wary blue eyes. Dwalin frowned and made to move towards Thorin's side, only to be beaten by his own sibling. Balin shot the other two dwarves warning glances before he carefully place himself in front of the fuming king, his pale eyes darkening with concern when Thorin refused to meet his eyes.
"Lad," Balin prompted gently. "Why haven't you talked to Bilbo about any of this? It's rather obvious that you care for him, and I highly doubt that Bilbo would reject your advances."
"I don't deserve him," Thorin interrupted quietly, his voice suddenly raw with a vulnerability that Dwalin hadn't seen in years.
Dís and Balin frowned in unison at this statement. The princess of Erebor moved to join Balin, only to hesitate when Thorin hastily turned away from her advance.
"Why do you feel that you are unworthy?" she demanded, her voice noticeably softer than it had been earlier. "You are a member of the line of Durin and the King of Erebor. Surely-."
"It is not my title that matters," Thorin snapped. "It is… it is what I have done with that title."
Dís's frown deepened and she took another step towards her brother, obviously confused. Dwalin, however, realized with a sudden jolt that he understood perfectly.
"Ye're afraid of the gold-sickness," he guessed flatly, causing Dís to freeze mid-step.
Thorin's jaw clenched and he nodded stiffly, his blue eyes fixed stubbornly on the wall above Balin's head.
"I am afraid that I may not be completely cured of the sickness," he admitted tightly. "And I fear going back into the treasury to see whether or not I have recovered. I have not even looked at the… at the Arkenstone. I had Bard and Fíli take it into one of the vaults after the battle."
"Thorin," Balin whispered. "You know that Bilbo does not blame you for the gold-sickness. Even if it did return, he would not abandon you because of it. He would try and help you- we all would," the old warrior added, his shoulders slumping slightly under the remains of past guilt.
Dwalin frowned and nodded in agreement, although his heart clenched at the memory of the pain that Thorin's sickness had caused the Company. Balin had been furious with the king after the banishment of Bilbo, and even gentle Ori had refused to speak to their leader almost until the very beginning of the battle. Dwalin's steadfast refusal to abandon his place at Thorin's side, despite his own anger over his king's treatment of the hobbit, had briefly driven a wedge between him and the young scribe until the Battle of the Five Armies pulled them together again.
Thorin merely shook his head in response to Balin's words, his expression troubled.
"I was cruel to Bilbo in my sickness," he murmured. "I cast him away, and he nearly paid for my mistake with his life. How can I dare to offer myself to Bilbo as a protector and a- a lover if I cannot even protect him from myself?"
"Thorin-," Balin tried again, only to fall silent when the king shook his head wearily.
"No," Thorin Oakenshield said firmly. "I will not ask for Bilbo's affections until I am certain that I will not betray him again."
"And when will you be certain?" Dís asked before she could stop herself.
The King Under the Mountain shrugged miserably and turned away, his muscles tensing slightly when Dwalin moved automatically to shadow his footsteps.
"I don't know," Thorin admitted quietly.
*Bagginshield*Bagginshield*Bagginshield*
The gate to Isengard opened before Gandalf had come within ten feet of the wall. The grey wizard slowed his horse into a walk and glanced up at the two roughly-hewn guard towers that had been added to the gate, his eyes searching for the men that were manning the doors. The windows of the towers were already closed by thick black shades, although Gandalf thought that he saw the briefest glimpse of cold, yellow eyes peering down at him from the darkness.
He felt the horse tremble beneath him and bent down to give her a reassuring pat on the neck, although he couldn't help the way his own skin seemed to crawl with unease and distaste the closer they got to Saruman's black tower.
"There used to be trees here," he murmured to the creature as they walked slowly towards the foot of the tower, his eyes ghosting across the dried, dark earth and rumbling, smoking pits that now surrounded the tower of Orthanc. "Many trees. I wonder what he has done with them."
"Gandalf," Saruman's voice called from the bottom of the tower. "Gandalf the Grey."
Gandalf straightened and glanced in the direction of the white wizard's voice, his eyes settling on a pale white figure that had appeared at the top of the polished black stairs leading up to Orthanc's entrance. Gandalf slid easily from his saddle and spared the horse a brief pat before he made his way towards Saruman. The other wizard watched him approach in silence, his eyes gleaming with a strange sort of light beneath his long white hair. The grey wizard faltered slightly when he caught sight of the odd smile that twisted his comrade's lips, his blood suddenly cold with the unease that had plagued him back in Erebor.
"Saruman," he greeted, struggling to keep his voice light.
"I had wondered when you would show up," Saruman mused airily, his thin lips curving up into something that could almost be called a smirk.
"You have been expecting me?" Gandalf asked with forced calm.
The white wizard simply nodded and gestured for his old friend to follow him inside of the tower. Gandalf did so warily, taking in the dark, metallic appearance of Orthanc's interior with rising alarm as they made their way through Saruman's halls.
"You have redecorated, I see," he observed.
Saruman ignored the remark and settled himself on a large black throne that had been placed near the center of a large, circular room. A single pedestal covered in shimmering cloth rose from the tiled floor in the exact center of the room, its dark marble surface glinting in the weak sunlight that had managed to break through one of Saruman's shades.
"Indeed," the white wizard mused. "I have seen a lot of things lately, Gandalf the Grey. Many, many things."
"Would you care to share any of these things?" Gandalf demanded, his voice sharpening despite his best efforts as his unease continued to mount.
Saruman smiled thinly.
"Perhaps," was all he said.
There was silence between the two wizards for a long moment. Gandalf turned away from Saruman's piercing gaze to better study the pedestal. He was strangely drawn to it, he realized, his mind reaching for the mystery beneath the cloth even as it recoiled from the shadows that seemed to have fallen across all of the white wizard's belongings.
"Do you like it?" Saruman inquired, noting the wizard's interest in the pedestal.
"That would depend," Gandalf replied carefully. "It is rather difficult to like or dislike something that I cannot see."
Saruman chuckled and hastily descended from his throne, his fingers trembling slightly before he pulled the cloth away with a flourish. Gandalf stumbled away from the uncovered black orb as if he had been struck, his eyes widening in alarm.
"Saruman," he hissed. "You know that we are not supposed to use the Palantir except in times of great need. We do not know who else has control of the orbs-."
"Ah, but I do," the white wizard purred. "I know many things now, Gandalf, many things that would have been hidden from me if I had not looked into the orb. Power is not to be feared, my friend. That has always been your problem, you know. You fear power even when it is your only hope for victory- that is why you have failed."
"Why did you decide to use this?" Gandalf demanded, his heart pounding in response to Saruman's words. The white wizard's eyes were glowing now, their dark color lit with a light that could not be found in sane men.
"Dol Guldur," Saruman whispered reverently. "Our Council was nearly defeated by the Necromancer, and we were almost too late to thwart his plans. If we had only known about the plot earlier, something more could have been done. We could have saved so much energy, so much time…"
"I did warn you earlier, at Rivendell," Gandalf reminded him cautiously. "I showed you the blade-."
"I was troubled after the Necromancer fell," the white wizard continued, oblivious to his companion's comment. "Our lack of power- our lack of information- plagued me until I reached my home. I saw the Palantir the moment I entered, as if it had been waiting for me. Such a wise stone," he chortled. "It knew what I needed before I knew it myself.
"I resisted, of course. Foolish being that I am, I clung to the orders that had been handed down to us. And yet my unease continued, and eventually I could contain myself no longer. I looked in the orb, hoping to make sure that there was no more trouble rising on the horizon…"
Saruman paused and seemed to recall Gandalf's presence. The older wizard studied his companion with narrowed eyes, his expression suddenly dark.
"You failed to mention the Ring at Rivendell," he observed coolly.
"The Ring had not yet come to my knowledge then-."
"And you failed to mention it at Dol Guldur as well," Saruman interrupted. "You neglected to tell me, when it could have saved so much time. Using the power of the Ring, we could have destroyed Sauron in that very minute. The evil that hangs over Middle-Earth would be vanquished, and we would finally be allowed to bestow upon these ignorant mortals the peace and harmony that we have always longed for."
"Saruman, you know as well as I do that the Ring answers only to Sauron, we cannot wield it," Gandalf snapped. He paused as the other wizard's words finally sank in and tightened his grip on his staff. "What evil?"
"The power of Sauron is rising, Gandalf," Saruman hissed. "Even with his defeat at Dol Guldur, he has continued to grow. The orcs have abandoned their usual haunts and flock to him, and Uruk-hai begin to rise again from the deep. The flames of Mordor have been rekindled, and Barad-dûr has been rebuilt. As we speak, the armies of Mordor prepare to march on Gondor, the last line of defense in the south. The Nine have left the Black Gate in search of the Ring."
Gandalf felt the blood drain from his face, his thoughts flying immediately to the small, weak hobbit that he had left in Erebor. He turned to leave the tower, only to find his way blocked by two hulking black creatures.
"Uruk-hai," he muttered, shocked. "What-?"
"The forces of the Free People are not what they once were," Saruman called, his voice almost pleading. "The Last Alliance of Elves and Men is nearly broken. They will never defeat Mordor now."
"And you propose to join forces with the darkness, then?" Gandalf counted, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Is that what your Palantir has told you to do?"
The white wizard smirked and glided to Gandalf's side, his thin fingers cool as they pressed against the other wizard's sleeve.
"We could overthrow him," he whispered silkily. "You and I, Gandalf, together. Sauron will be weakened by his conquest- he will be no match for us. With the Ring, we could defeat him and take his place. We could create a better world, a peaceful world. All you need to do is tell me where you have taken the Ring- tell me who bears it now."
"Tell me," Gandalf snarled, his blood boiling with rising anger. "When did the wisdom of Saruman give way to madness?"
The white wizard grimaced delicately and stepped away. With a casual flick of his wrist, he stole the staff from Gandalf's hand, leaving him unarmed before the Uruk-hai.
"Such a shame," he murmured. "But perhaps it is for the better. You were always too soft for these sorts of things."
Gandalf stiffened and prepared to lunge at the other wizard, only to have his muscles freeze and lock in place with a simple wave of Saruman's hand. He saw the black, distorted faces of the Uruk-hai move towards him, felt their hot breath waft over his face as they leaned closer and raised their crooked blades.
Then darkness descended, and he knew no more.
So, I decided what to do about Saruman :3 Anyways, sorry if the beginning of this was a bit rough. I'll be at the beach for the next week or so, so this is the last update that you'll have for a little while. (yeah, sorry for my cruelty… I don't mean to be evil, I truly don't).
Please let me know what you guys think, and feel free to tell me if I have totally screwed something up (or if you have anything that you want me to clear up.)
Thanks to everyone who has been reading this so far, and I should probably mention that I don't own The Hobbit, or the Lord of the Rings. That credit belongs to Tolkien and, to some extent, Peter Jackson because I love his movies.
