Author's notes: I'm really out of ideas this time. Someone suggest something, or I'll have to place this fic on hold until someone gives me an idea or I come up with one. Sorry.
The Fellowship Of The…Baby?
Twelve: Saruman + Gaelin = Orthanc Destroyed?
A week and a day had passed since Merry, Pippin and Gaelin had been taken. They had been given little rest, and the Hobbits had been made to run on their weary feet. Gaelin had been carried by the Orcs, for he was light, and could not run beyond his few stumbling steps.
They had been brought not to Sauron, as Merry and Pippin had feared, but to the wizard Saruman, which was little better for them. The wizard had given orders for them to be locked up in his study chamber, where he could watch them himself.
"Well now, Pippin," Merry said. "I should guess that this is the end, even if we don't die by Sauron's Eye."
"What does Saruman want with us for?" Pippin asked. A noise caught his ear and he turned. "Gaelin, stop that!"
Gaelin giggled and continued flipping through the pages of a book he had pulled from a low shelf, wrinkling the pages in the process. Then, tired with it, he threw it to a side and reached for another.
"Gaelin!" Merry snapped and stormed over to the babe, taking the book out of his hands and carrying him to stand between him and Pippin. "Stay here."
As the Hobbits started discussing about all the worst things that could happen to them, Gaelin crawled off again to explore, a small figure easily unnoticed.
His eyes caught on a bottle of black on the table. Too high for him to reach it unassisted, he placed his hands on the chair, and a knee came up so that he was halfway up.
He pulled himself up and took a moment to regain his balance, before pushing himself up onto his feet, using the table as a support. "Aak!" He slapped his hands about on the table, hitting the bottle of ink.
It flew up, overturned, and spilled its contents all about; most of it landed on Gaelin's hands, staining them black. As he flung his hands about in joy, he leaned too far back and toppled over with a surprised cry.
"Gaelin!" Merry yelled and dashed over, his Hobbit legs propelling him surprisingly fast across the space. He caught the babe before he hit the floor.
The babe grinned up at the Hobbit as Merry breathed heavily, glaring at Gaelin. "If you do that one more time, I'll kill you."
As if Gaelin could understand the words, he poked his small tongue out a little and made a face that diffused Merry's anger.
As Pippin helped his kindred up, the door swung open and Saruman entered with two Orcs in tow. The Orcs flinched at the sight of Gaelin.
The Hobbits froze, shushing Gaelin as the babe started to cry, staring at the wizard. "W-what do you want?" Pippin asked bravely.
"One of you, my Hobbit friends," Saruman turned to face them, looking not at all to be evil, "have something I want."
"What might that be?"
Saruman's eyes caught on Gaelin them, and he frowned, addressing the Orcs. "I said to bring only the Halflings. Why is this babe here?"
The Orcs cowered but did not answer, and Saruman snatched Gaelin from Merry's arms and held him up, examining him.
Unfortunately, he did not notice Gaelin's hands as the babe clapped them to his face, and then pulled away, leaving two handprints on Saruman's face.
***
Night had fallen, and they were still in the same room, locked up with a dozing Saruman. His staff was rested against the armrest of his chair, for he did not worry that his captives were able to use it.
Merry, Pippin and Gaelin were huddled in a corner, the Hobbits sleeping. Gaelin was playing with their hands, but became bored rapidly, searching around for something to do.
He pushed himself up onto his wobbly legs and his eyes took in the room. They caught on Saruman's hair hanging down, long, straight, silk and gleaming softly. He giggled and tottered over, plopping down onto his bottom beside the chair.
The babe took hold of the ends of the wizard's hair and ran his fingers through them, twisting and tangling them, saliva dripping from his mouth onto the strands of white.
But soon, as was the short attention span of most babies, Gaelin turned his attention to other things. The thing located most conveniently within his reach was the staff leaning against the armrest of the chair.
Gaelin lifted the slightly tapered end off the floor, using the armrest as a support. He moved it up slowly, pulled it down, and with a quick experimental push, thrust it up again.
The other end hit the side of Saruman's head, and with a roar of pain, the wizard sprang up from his seat. "You rascal!" He tried to take his staff away.
Merry and Pippin awoke at the noise as Gaelin held on to the staff, having a surprisingly strong grip.
The crystal set on the top end of the staff—which was pointed at Saruman then—glowed with power, triggered by the wizard's anger.
"Gaelin, let go!" Pippin didn't dare to approach the wizard, even if it was to get the babe away.
"Gaaageee!" The babe went and let go, just as the Hobbit ordered.
"Ah!" Saruman let out with a startled yelp as the crystal hit his chin, just as the power that had built up in it was released. His head flew backwards and he landed on the floor, dazed.
Seeing their chance, Merry quickly scooped Gaelin up and hissed to his kindred: "Go! Open the door and go!"
Pippin hurled the heavy door open with much effort, and the three ran out. Saruman saw them escaping and raised his staff weakly, letting loose with a blast.
Unfortunately, the force of the hits made him see triple, and his attack went wide, taking out a piece of the wall instead.
Saruman groaned and decided to try once more, even though his prisoners were already gone from sight, mayhap to salvage his pride that he was not that weak. His next shot went through several of his bookshelves before destroying yet another section of the room.
A few Orcs ran in, and froze at the sight of the room in chaos and Saruman on the floor. "Master, what happened?"
Saruman only gestured weakly. "Redecoration."