Ithildin started towards the pedestal, but before she reached it, a thought flashed through her mind.

Do not look into the palantir!

The thought was so urgent that she stopped in her tracks. It occurred to her now that a change had come over Saruman. No longer did he appear open or welcoming. His eyes glowed with an evil anticipation, and the hand that clutched his staff was tense. The expression on his face was malice disguised as friendliness. This was a trap.

"No!" she cried. "I will not look into that! It is evil!" She stepped back.

"Why do you recoil in fear?" asked Saruman and there was a hard edge to his voice. But suddenly, he seemed to hear himself. He stopped and took a deep breath. When finally he spoke, his voice was musical once again. "I would not lead you astray," he said softly. "You came to me, and I treated you as an old friend. I want only to help you."

Ithildin was no longer deceived. "You use your voice to trick me, but I will not be fooled. You are in allegiance with the Dark Lord!"

Then the mask was taken off and Saruman was revealed in all his miserable treachery. "You fool," he spat. "That a power so great should grow within you is the evilest of all paradoxes. You do not know how to use it and you would let it go to waste. It would wither and die within you, never being allowed to grow to its full potential."

"So you would ensnare me; trick me into looking into the palantír. Yet, you are nothing more than a puppet. You do the bidding of the Lord of Mordor, but you are no more important to him than the lowest Orc!" Ithildin's sweet voice was tinged with mockery.

Then Saruman was filled with wrath and he took up his staff. "I will not be mocked by a mere mortal!" he cried in fury and from his staff emanated a force that would have blown down a tree. Yet Ithildin stood still in her place and only her hair was blown away. Saruman lowered his staff and stared at her in wonder. Never had anyone been able to withstand the power of the white wizard.

"Embrace the power of the Lord of the Rings," he said. "Or you will embrace death!"

"No!" said Ithildin and in her eyes glowed a fire that would not be smothered. She turned and fled the chamber. The passages were long and dark and she knew not where she was going, but still she ran. In the distance, Saruman let out a great yell and it was answered from all corners of the tower. Horrible was the response and it filled the halls with terror. Ithildin shuddered and continued to run. Up ahead, she could make out two large doors. Were they…? Yes, they were the doors leading out of the tower! With a sigh that became a sob, she burst through the doors and fled down the steps.

At the bottom, she paused and turned for one brief second. That was when she heard it: Footsteps. Hundreds of footsteps that resonated from the tower. They marched the way an army marched and there was the distinct clang of metal. Above the sound rose a voice and it was Saruman's: Find her and destroy her!

Then the doors of the tower opened and out marched hideous creatures. Their faces were distorted and evil and ugly. Ithildin ran. The orcs saw her and with a great cry, they began to pursue her. Her terror rose and she pushed herself to run harder, but it was no use. She was already short of breath and she would not be able to make it. Then suddenly, a surge of power ran through her and she found that her feet were light as feathers. It was almost as if she was flying! Her speed doubled and the orcs, quick as they were, lost sight of her.

Ithildin did not stop until she passed the gates of Isengard. There, she stood a moment to catch her breath. What could she do now? Where could she go? She was not safe in Edoras, nor anywhere south now that the servants of the Dark Lord's were aware of her. She must go east and north. Yet, she knew she could not go to Lothlórien and risk danger to that fair realm. She must go past it, even further north. Yes, she would travel north and follow the Great River Anduin. Where it took her, she did not know.