Eowyn led their people back to Edoras in place of Théoden and Eomer. They and a small company of the Rohirrim ventured with the Fellowship to Orthanc.

Frodo leaned against Legolas, trying to seep in some of his warmth. The ring was heavy again and Legolas had tried to relieve the pain of the chain cutting into Frodo's neck with some salve Aragorn made with athelas and soaked in linen. It helped a little bit, but Frodo really could do without the stinging.

The forest cleared, showing them Orthanc.

Frodo had heard of the beautiful tower the Istari built. It seemed the land had completely been stripped away and destroyed. The Ents walked around, groaning at each other.

Treebeard greeted them.

"Young Master Gandalf," he said.

Frodo dismounted, the water cooled his feet and caressed his shins as he waded out, looking at the destruction. What prompted the Ents to do this? He approached one and cleared his throat.

"Excuse me?"

The Ent looked down at him.

"Pardon me, but what exactly happened here?"

"A battle," the Ent said. "I came to my field and the trees had been uprooted at the borders of the forest. So, naturally, I called on the others and we marched on Orthanc."

Frodo bowed. "Thank you, my friend. May I know your name?"

"I am called Bregalad, but most known me as Quickbeam," he said, returning the bow. "And you are…"

"Frodo Baggins."

"The Hobbit Treebeard mentioned! It is an honor to meet you, Frodo Baggins."

"The honor is mine."

Frodo turned around, looking at the others, they were already speaking with Saruman. He bade Quickbeam good day, agreeing to visit the Ent again some time when time was available.

"You have fought many wars and battles, Théoden King," a voice echoed from above. "And you have also made peace with your enemies. Can you not also make peace with me? Can we not work together as we once did, my lord king?"

Théoden lowered his eyes."We shall have peace," he said. Then he looked up eyes blazing. "We shall have peace when you have answered for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there!

"We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers bloodied as they lay dead at the gates of the hornburg are avenged!

"When you hang from the turrets for the sport of your own crows, we shall have peace!"

Saruman sneered down at them.

"And what of you, Greyhame? What do you desire? The key of Orthanc? Glory? Honor? Power? These things belong only to the high wizard!"

Gandalf glared up at him.

"You're treachery has already cost many lives. But you may stop this madness! You were deep in the enemy's grasp. Now is the chance to redeem yourself."

"So you have come here for information," Saruman said. "Very well. I will give you some."

He held out his hand, holding a black orb. The center of it swirled until it was orange.

"The Dark Lord is at work and presses his advantage against you in your failure to see. His time will come soon. You are all going to die. You must know this, Gandalf.

"Do you really think this Ranger will ever take the throne of Gondor? Or the Halfling? Neither will live to see the throne. And the Halfling—does he know he will die? Does he know he goes to his doom?"

Legolas reached for an arrow, sneering. Gandalf held his hand out.

"No, Legolas," he said. He looked up at Saruman again. "Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared."

"Leave your pity and your mercy! I have no use for it!"

A spiral of fire spat from the staff toward them and engulfed Gandalf. When the fire died, Gandalf stood unaffected and Saruman's fury shifted to fear.

"Saruman," Gandalf said. "You're staff is broken."

In that moment, the staff in Saruman's hand shattered and Wormtongue stepped into their view, staring down at them. Théoden rode forth, meeting Wormtongue's gaze.

"Grima, you need not follow him. You were once a Man of Rohan."

"A Man of Rohan?" Saruman sneered. "What is Rohan but a barn where brigands drink and the Men roll on the floor with the dogs? Victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Théoden Horse Master!"

Théoden closed his eyes and sighed. He looked at Wormtongue again.

"Grima, come down. Free yourself."

"Free?!" Saruman laughed. "He will never be free!"

"No," he said.

Saruman turned on him, slamming the back of his hand into Wormtongue's cheek.

Frodo looked at Legolas. "You should probably ready your bow," he said.

"Saruman!" Gandalf shouted. "You were deep in the enemy's council. Tell us what you know!"

"Withdraw your guards and I will tell you where your doom will be decided—"

Wormtongue snuck behind him and embedded his dagger twice before Legolas let his bow fly into his heart. Saruman fell, impaled on a spiked wheel at the bottom of the tower.

Frodo's blood ran cold.

He looked down, wondering what they would do now.

Gandalf turned to Théoden, telling him to send word to the seven kingdoms so to find out where Sauron would strike. The wheel groaned and the orb fell out of Saruman's robes.

"The filth of Saruman is washing away," Treebeard muttered.

Frodo waded over to the orb and picked it up.

"Frodo!" Aragorn said—

"I see you."

Frodo screamed.

"There is no escaping the void. There is only death!"

Fire licked against white stone.

The screams of the dying echoed in his ears.

Orcs plundered the city.

The city was becoming ash and rubble.

He climbed, searching for something…but what?

He reached the top and looked at a dead, white tree.

He approached it and touched the bark. It sprouted leaves and flowers, beautiful and alive again.

"I see you." Frodo turned to the speaker.

A man armored in black approached him.

"I know who you are, Isildur. Frodo. Your name is of no importance to me. You have what is mine. I give thanks for returning it to me now while you yet live."

His hands curled around Frodo's neck—

Then nothing. No screaming. No burning. No tree. No Dark Lord.

Just darkness.

"Frodo!"

He woke, blinking. Legolas sighed, pressing his forehead to his.

"What happened?"

"Frodo, look at me," Gandalf demanded.

Frodo obeyed, stunned by the harsh command.

"What did you see?"

"Gondor," he said. "I saw Gondor. He's going to raze it to the ground."

Boromir's face turned grey.

"Did you speak to him?"

"No," Frodo said. "But he spoke to me. He touched me," his hand went to his neck. "Tried to kill me, but no. I said nothing. He already knew my name. He knows who I am."

"Well, who else would you be?" Gimli said. "It's not like you're easily mistaken." Frodo rubbed his neck and Legolas kissed his temple.

"I have to go back," Boromir said. "My people—"

"You will go back, but not just yet," Gandalf assured him. "Calm yourself Boromir. You have earned a short rest."

"You speak of rest when my people are about to be destroyed!" Boromir shouted.

Gandalf frowned at him.

"You think I find rest easy to come by? Every night I am away, my brother suffers at my father's words. Every day is another day where Mordor can try to destroy my home! I can't afford to rest!"

Frodo stood and waded over to him.

"Boromir, take the time. They've gotten this far without you. They aren't going to fall while you're gone. If that was the case, would you not have heard from them by now? You need this as much as the rest of us. One victory at a time.

"If you value Eowyn as much as I think you do, tell her how you feel before you return. Perhaps her presence would calm you a little bit before you go home."

Boromir's grey pallor didn't change, but he nodded. His hands shook as he gripped the reins.

"What?" Eomer snapped, turning to them. His eyes flashed. "What do you mean value my sister?"