A/N: Since I have no more than a very vague picture in my head of what
Grima and Saruman actually did in the Shire- you shall only get the end of
what happened. But it shall actually be "the end."
Wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! I am so happy. Enjoy! It's 3:16 a.m. and I've
started typing. Please review. Constructively.
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It was mid-afternoon, November third, when the last of my days recorded arrived. My master got that hole in the ground. It may have been nothing more than a hole- but the roof over my hut did not even keep the rain out! Then, at nearly the same time, it would not admit sunlight.
I was in my hut looking for some food. This may be a race of farmers, but little of the crops reach Saruman and I. They keep it back, the little tricksome thieves. No matter. Lotho has told me where it is hidden- and tonight I will find it- and I shall eat it.
However, before I had gotten very far in my search- and finding nothing except an old bootlace- I heard Saruman's voice sounding from outside.
"Worm! Worm!" Saruman called; I came out of that nearby hut, crawling, almost like a dog. I was nearly blinded by the sudden bright sunlight. I was also remembering that name.
"To the road again, Worm!" Said Saruman. "These fine fellows and lordlings are turning us adrift again. Come along." We were to travel again? Where would we go? But Saruman turned to go and I shuffled after him; I hated him, I hated myself for obeying him, but I could not turn against him yet. That last, and greatest, betrayal was still before me. But even as Saruman passed close to the former Ringbearer, a knife flashed in his hand, and he stabbed swiftly. The blade turned (?!) and snapped. A dozen hobbits, led by a plump little hobbit, leaped forward with a cry and flung Saruman to the ground. The plump one drew his sword.
"No Sam!" Said the Ringbearer. "Do not kill him even now. For he has not hurt me. And in any case, I do not wish him to be slain in this evil mood. He was great once, of a noble kind that we should not dare to raise our hands against. He is fallen, and his care is beyond us; but I would still spare him, in the hope that he may find it."
The Ringbearer had grown. My master, Saruman, rose to his feet and stared at the Ringbearer. "You have grown, halfling," he said. "Yes, you have grown very much. You are wise, and cruel. You have robbed my revenge of sweetness, and now I must go hence in bitterness, in debt to your mercy. I hate it and you!" Well, I was none too fond of Saruman at this point in time either! "Well, I go and I shall trouble you no more. But do not expect me to wish you health and long life. You will have neither. But that is not my doing. I merely foretell." I do not know how his foretelling has come true. But I know that some measure of it is true. How much truth and how much artful half-lies? I cannot say.
Saruman walked through the gathered hobbits, who parted for him. I hesitated. He had no power now. I might stay. I need not go with him, I need not- I will go with him still. He needs- no, I will not- I will go with him.
What? Can I not call my mind my own? I do not let myself hear the answer to that question. I trudged after Saruman.
"Wormtongue!" called the Ringbearer. "You need not follow him." I need not? "I know of no evil you have done to me." And what of that which has yet to be discovered? "You can have rest and food here for a while, until you are stronger and can go your own ways." Decent food! And a real bed. And then I might be gone to serve, truly serve- I would not betray this time, and . . .
I halted and looked back at him, half prepared to stay. Then Saruman turned. "No evil?" he cackled. "Oh no! Even when he sneaks out at night it is only to look at the stars. But did I hear someone ask where poor Lotho is hiding?" Oh no. "You know, don't you Worm? Will you tell them?"
I would not! I would not. I would-
I became aware of myself whimpering, "No! No!" With that 'No!', I felt something in my mind begin to slide. Something from so long ago, I had forgotten it.
"Then I will," said Saruman. "Worm killed your Chief, poor little fellow, your nice little Boss. Didn't you Worm? Strangled him in his sleep I believe. Buried him, I hope; though Worm has been very hungry lately. No, Worm is not really nice. You had better leave him to me."
Leave myself in his care? So he might control me once more? It had been him. Ever him. Ever- I hissed at Saruman. "You told me to; you made me do it." He had, yes. But I- I had listened. And obeyed.
Saruman laughed. At me! "You do what Sharkey says, always, don't you, Worm?" I had, always, yet now, this day, I became conscious of something different in me. "Well, now he says: follow!" Then he kicked me in the face.
Something inside me- snapped. I was angry. It was a hot, unreasoning anger which I had thought lost to me. I drew my knife. It was good steel, forged in Rohan. I ran, overtook Saruman, and then- so easy- I slit his throat. It was so easy. He was such a frail man. And so bright the blood. Crimson.
I could not linger. I yelled, and ran down the lane.
I had gone three steps when something hit my back and knocked me onto my chest. I lay sprawled on the path with my head turned towards the side. I noticed a beetle. I raised my hand to lift it to my eyes- it's carapace was such a viridescent green. Odd, I couldn't move my arm.
The colors, the green, the red, the dusky brown of the path, all swirled into each other, all darkening, darkening to . . . black . . . how odd . . .
~Fin~
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It was mid-afternoon, November third, when the last of my days recorded arrived. My master got that hole in the ground. It may have been nothing more than a hole- but the roof over my hut did not even keep the rain out! Then, at nearly the same time, it would not admit sunlight.
I was in my hut looking for some food. This may be a race of farmers, but little of the crops reach Saruman and I. They keep it back, the little tricksome thieves. No matter. Lotho has told me where it is hidden- and tonight I will find it- and I shall eat it.
However, before I had gotten very far in my search- and finding nothing except an old bootlace- I heard Saruman's voice sounding from outside.
"Worm! Worm!" Saruman called; I came out of that nearby hut, crawling, almost like a dog. I was nearly blinded by the sudden bright sunlight. I was also remembering that name.
"To the road again, Worm!" Said Saruman. "These fine fellows and lordlings are turning us adrift again. Come along." We were to travel again? Where would we go? But Saruman turned to go and I shuffled after him; I hated him, I hated myself for obeying him, but I could not turn against him yet. That last, and greatest, betrayal was still before me. But even as Saruman passed close to the former Ringbearer, a knife flashed in his hand, and he stabbed swiftly. The blade turned (?!) and snapped. A dozen hobbits, led by a plump little hobbit, leaped forward with a cry and flung Saruman to the ground. The plump one drew his sword.
"No Sam!" Said the Ringbearer. "Do not kill him even now. For he has not hurt me. And in any case, I do not wish him to be slain in this evil mood. He was great once, of a noble kind that we should not dare to raise our hands against. He is fallen, and his care is beyond us; but I would still spare him, in the hope that he may find it."
The Ringbearer had grown. My master, Saruman, rose to his feet and stared at the Ringbearer. "You have grown, halfling," he said. "Yes, you have grown very much. You are wise, and cruel. You have robbed my revenge of sweetness, and now I must go hence in bitterness, in debt to your mercy. I hate it and you!" Well, I was none too fond of Saruman at this point in time either! "Well, I go and I shall trouble you no more. But do not expect me to wish you health and long life. You will have neither. But that is not my doing. I merely foretell." I do not know how his foretelling has come true. But I know that some measure of it is true. How much truth and how much artful half-lies? I cannot say.
Saruman walked through the gathered hobbits, who parted for him. I hesitated. He had no power now. I might stay. I need not go with him, I need not- I will go with him still. He needs- no, I will not- I will go with him.
What? Can I not call my mind my own? I do not let myself hear the answer to that question. I trudged after Saruman.
"Wormtongue!" called the Ringbearer. "You need not follow him." I need not? "I know of no evil you have done to me." And what of that which has yet to be discovered? "You can have rest and food here for a while, until you are stronger and can go your own ways." Decent food! And a real bed. And then I might be gone to serve, truly serve- I would not betray this time, and . . .
I halted and looked back at him, half prepared to stay. Then Saruman turned. "No evil?" he cackled. "Oh no! Even when he sneaks out at night it is only to look at the stars. But did I hear someone ask where poor Lotho is hiding?" Oh no. "You know, don't you Worm? Will you tell them?"
I would not! I would not. I would-
I became aware of myself whimpering, "No! No!" With that 'No!', I felt something in my mind begin to slide. Something from so long ago, I had forgotten it.
"Then I will," said Saruman. "Worm killed your Chief, poor little fellow, your nice little Boss. Didn't you Worm? Strangled him in his sleep I believe. Buried him, I hope; though Worm has been very hungry lately. No, Worm is not really nice. You had better leave him to me."
Leave myself in his care? So he might control me once more? It had been him. Ever him. Ever- I hissed at Saruman. "You told me to; you made me do it." He had, yes. But I- I had listened. And obeyed.
Saruman laughed. At me! "You do what Sharkey says, always, don't you, Worm?" I had, always, yet now, this day, I became conscious of something different in me. "Well, now he says: follow!" Then he kicked me in the face.
Something inside me- snapped. I was angry. It was a hot, unreasoning anger which I had thought lost to me. I drew my knife. It was good steel, forged in Rohan. I ran, overtook Saruman, and then- so easy- I slit his throat. It was so easy. He was such a frail man. And so bright the blood. Crimson.
I could not linger. I yelled, and ran down the lane.
I had gone three steps when something hit my back and knocked me onto my chest. I lay sprawled on the path with my head turned towards the side. I noticed a beetle. I raised my hand to lift it to my eyes- it's carapace was such a viridescent green. Odd, I couldn't move my arm.
The colors, the green, the red, the dusky brown of the path, all swirled into each other, all darkening, darkening to . . . black . . . how odd . . .
~Fin~