Author's Note: I have to leave town for a few days, so I thought I would
post this before I left. It will still be awhile before the next update,
though. Sorry!
I'd like to thank everybody for taking the time to review! It's just like Old Home Week with all the old familiar people! Great to see you all - Minty, Kay, Samwise the Brave, Aemilia Rose, Amrun, Bookworm2000, and Irish Flying Fish - Welcome!
OK, I will confess that Sam always suffers in my stories (I'm just into angst I guess and poor Sam has to suffer the brunt of my obsession). I guess you all know that by now, but just to warn you, his is not a happy lot! (
Chapter 3 Saruman
The Uruk-hai ran through the forest, his destination clearly fixed in his mind. His orders were to capture one of the halflings and send him back to Orthanc. It was Saruman's hope that the hobbit delivered to him would be the ring-bearer, but the wizard knew that was unlikely. Saruman was under no delusion that Gandalf would allow the ring-bearer to wander freely about without protection, especially now that the Gray wizard knew of Saruman's plans. However, Saruman did hope that perhaps one of Frodo's companions would become careless and the wizard had stationed several of his prized Uruk-hai around Rivendell in case such an opportunity arose. Sam had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and now, he was on his way Isengard.
The Uruk continued to run tirelessly for several miles until he finally reached the edge of a jagged cliff. He stopped, threw back his head and gave a harsh, reverberating roar. He then stood waiting expectantly. A few moments later an answering scream was heard from overhead and a huge, black condor came soaring into view. The bird screamed again as it spotted the waiting Uruk, then swooped down to receive the small bundle the warrior held up. With Sam firmly clutched in its monstrous talons, the giant bird wheeled around and disappeared into the clouds. The Uruk watched for a moment, then turned and disappeared back into the forest.
The bird soared effortless through the dense bank of clouds, using it to mask it movements. The inky condor barely noticed the weight of the small creature it carried and flew at full speed southward towards the Gap of Rohan and Isengard. The great bird flew for hours, never resting, never deviating in it's path. It knew its master was waiting. Many hours later, it finally spied the spires of the mighty fortress, Orthanc, in the distance. With a scream of triumph, it began it's descent, the unconscious hobbit still firmly clenched in its encircling talons. As it approached the uppermost reaches of the tower, the condor saw another orc patiently waiting, and slowly the bird circled downwards towards it. The orc reached up and awkwardly caught the bundle released by the bird. It's errand completed for the moment, the bird, turned and headed into the Misty Mountains to hunt. It would return when called.
The small orc, carried Sam through a doorway barely indistinguishable from the onyx black wall and descended downwards along a steep, spiraling stairway. Finally, he stopped in front of a tall, elaborately carved door. Reaching up, the orc knocked on the door until a deep voice inside bade him enter. The huge door slowly swung inwards revealing a room of shining black. Seated upon a dais was Saruman the White. His black eyes glittered eagerly as he spied the figure in the orcs arms. "At last!" whispered the wizard as he stood and approached the orc. Saruman studied the bruised and bloody face of the hobbit before him. He doubted this was the ring-bearer, but he must be certain. He looked at the orc. "Search him." Saruman commanded, "Search him thoroughly and give to me anything you find."
The orc searched Sam roughly but other than a pocket-knife, a length of string, and some nuts, he found nothing. The orc looked up at his master apprehensively. "This is all he was carrying, my Lord." cringed the orc, holding up Sam's meager possessions.
Saruman nodded, as if he had expected nothing more. "So, this is not the ring-bearer," he said aloud, "Well, no matter. I still have my uses for him. Obviously this hobbit is close to the ring-bearer or he would not have accompanied Frodo Baggins on this quest." He looked back at the orc. "Take him to the dungeons and hold him there until he wakes. Then bring him to me. We do not have much time." The orc nodded, picked up Sam in his arms and scurried from the room. Saruman watched thoughtfully, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. If all went well, he thought, then one of Gandalf's pet halflings could very well lead to the downfall of Middle Earth. What a grand joke that would be!
Sam let out a low moan as he slowly came back to himself. His head was pounding and his entire body ached. He was also very cold and shivering. He grudgingly opened his eyes, trying to see where he was. He felt very confused. He was in a dark, stone cell, the rough floor pushing against his face. Gingerly, he sat up, holding his aching head. He was surprised to find his hands bound in front of him. The last thing he could remember was looking at the flowers in Rivendell. Yes, that was right. He had crossed a little river and had been in a forest clearing. Something happened there. He frowned, trying to remember. The monster! The memory of the fiendish creature bearing down on him in the clearing hit him so hard, he gasped. It must have taken him someplace away from the elves, but where? And what would happen to him now?
He carefully stood and began to examine his quarters more closely. There wasn't much to see. A thick, iron door with a grill in its center and a small flap at the bottom took up much of one wall. The rest of the cell's walls were bare stone, as was the floor. The cell was empty save for one very frightened hobbit. In addition to being cold, Sam suddenly realized how parched and hungry he was. He wondered when was the last time he had eaten. He had no idea how much time had passed since the monster had taken him. The pounding in his head was making him queasy so he sat back down and leaned his aching body against the wall. There was nothing he could do now but wait.
He had lost all sense of time when the loud clang of a bold being pulled startled Sam out a restless doze. His head snapped up and he watched fearfully as the door swung open and the flickering light from a torch momentarily blinded him. "Come along, rat," snarled the large orc that filled the doorway. It reached down and dragged Sam roughly to his feet. "The Master requests your presence!" A smaller orc, bearing the torch, laughed harshly. Sam felt a cold chill run down his back. The larger orc gave him a push and Sam stumbled down the corridor toward another iron- bound door, the small orc in front, the large one behind. They had no fear that he would escape, but the orcs were taking no chances.
Sam was led through the door and up the winding stairway. His short legs quickly grew so heavy from the unaccustomed exertion that he wasn't sure how much longer he could continue. Whenever he staggered or fell, the orc behind would snarl menacingly and hoist Sam back onto his feet, forcing him onward. They passed many doorways on their journey up from the dungeons, but the orcs passed them by without a second look. Finally, they came to one more elaborately carved than rest. It was the same Sam had passed through before, although he did not know this. The door opened and the orcs entered, shoving their prisoner before them.
Sam stumbled and fell onto his hands and knees. The marble felt cold and lifeless beneath him. Slowly, Sam lifted his aching head and found himself meeting the cold, black eyes of a tall man clothed all in shimmering white seated upon a throne perched high on the upper level of an imposing dais. The man reminded Sam of Gandalf and the hobbit couldn't help but wonder if he were in the presence of another of the Istari. He knew there were others, but Gandalf was the only one he had ever met. The man's unrelenting stare seemed to freeze the terrified hobbit to the spot. Sam wasn't sure he could have moved even if he had wanted to. All he could do was stare into those impenetrable eyes. Finally, the man broke his gaze and gracefully stood up. Sam's eyes continued to follow the wizard as he slowly got to his own feet.
When the man was a few feet from Sam, he stopped, peering down at the small figure before him. "Do you know who I am, halfling?" the man demanded quietly, Sam gulped nervously, his mouth dry, and shook his head slowly. The man smiled contemptuously. "I thought not. I do not imagine Gandalf felt it necessary to tell you about me as yet." The man pulled himself up, his tall figure becoming more imposing than ever. "I am Saruman," he announced, his booming voice ringing in Sam's ears. "Do you know me now?"
Sam's mind went blank as he frantically searched for any memories he had of this name. Suddenly, he seemed to remember Gandalf mentioning a Saruman the White, the head of his order. He frowned in thought. Gandalf had left Frodo and Sam to meet with this head and Sam had the impression that something had gone wrong and that was why Gandalf had not met them at Bree. It also occurred to the hobbit that if this Saruman had monsters in his employ, he was not a friend. Sam looked up, his lips pressed tightly together, "I have heard of you." he said tightly. "You are the head of Gandalf's Order."
Saruman's eyebrows rose in slight surprise. "So, you do know something of me, But not the entire story, I think." he mused. He continued to regard the hobbit thoughtfully. "You are not the ring-bearer." he said suddenly.
Sam blinked in surprise. This was not what he expected to hear. It was obvious that this wizard knew something of what had been going on since he and Frodo left Hobbiton, but Sam was determined not to tell him any more. "Nooo," replied Sam slowly continuing to watch Saruman warily.
"No, you are not," agreed Saruman pleasantly, "But, you are one of his trusted companions, sent to accompany him from the Shire to Rivendell." Sam said nothing. "You do not need to confirm this," continued Saruman dismissively. "I had hoped to capture the ring-bearer, Frodo Baggins," Sam winced at hearing his master's name, "But you will prove almost as useful to me." Saruman began to slowly approach Sam, his glittering eyes boring into Sam's. "You will kill the ring-bearer," he hissed, "and bring to me the One Ring."
I'd like to thank everybody for taking the time to review! It's just like Old Home Week with all the old familiar people! Great to see you all - Minty, Kay, Samwise the Brave, Aemilia Rose, Amrun, Bookworm2000, and Irish Flying Fish - Welcome!
OK, I will confess that Sam always suffers in my stories (I'm just into angst I guess and poor Sam has to suffer the brunt of my obsession). I guess you all know that by now, but just to warn you, his is not a happy lot! (
Chapter 3 Saruman
The Uruk-hai ran through the forest, his destination clearly fixed in his mind. His orders were to capture one of the halflings and send him back to Orthanc. It was Saruman's hope that the hobbit delivered to him would be the ring-bearer, but the wizard knew that was unlikely. Saruman was under no delusion that Gandalf would allow the ring-bearer to wander freely about without protection, especially now that the Gray wizard knew of Saruman's plans. However, Saruman did hope that perhaps one of Frodo's companions would become careless and the wizard had stationed several of his prized Uruk-hai around Rivendell in case such an opportunity arose. Sam had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and now, he was on his way Isengard.
The Uruk continued to run tirelessly for several miles until he finally reached the edge of a jagged cliff. He stopped, threw back his head and gave a harsh, reverberating roar. He then stood waiting expectantly. A few moments later an answering scream was heard from overhead and a huge, black condor came soaring into view. The bird screamed again as it spotted the waiting Uruk, then swooped down to receive the small bundle the warrior held up. With Sam firmly clutched in its monstrous talons, the giant bird wheeled around and disappeared into the clouds. The Uruk watched for a moment, then turned and disappeared back into the forest.
The bird soared effortless through the dense bank of clouds, using it to mask it movements. The inky condor barely noticed the weight of the small creature it carried and flew at full speed southward towards the Gap of Rohan and Isengard. The great bird flew for hours, never resting, never deviating in it's path. It knew its master was waiting. Many hours later, it finally spied the spires of the mighty fortress, Orthanc, in the distance. With a scream of triumph, it began it's descent, the unconscious hobbit still firmly clenched in its encircling talons. As it approached the uppermost reaches of the tower, the condor saw another orc patiently waiting, and slowly the bird circled downwards towards it. The orc reached up and awkwardly caught the bundle released by the bird. It's errand completed for the moment, the bird, turned and headed into the Misty Mountains to hunt. It would return when called.
The small orc, carried Sam through a doorway barely indistinguishable from the onyx black wall and descended downwards along a steep, spiraling stairway. Finally, he stopped in front of a tall, elaborately carved door. Reaching up, the orc knocked on the door until a deep voice inside bade him enter. The huge door slowly swung inwards revealing a room of shining black. Seated upon a dais was Saruman the White. His black eyes glittered eagerly as he spied the figure in the orcs arms. "At last!" whispered the wizard as he stood and approached the orc. Saruman studied the bruised and bloody face of the hobbit before him. He doubted this was the ring-bearer, but he must be certain. He looked at the orc. "Search him." Saruman commanded, "Search him thoroughly and give to me anything you find."
The orc searched Sam roughly but other than a pocket-knife, a length of string, and some nuts, he found nothing. The orc looked up at his master apprehensively. "This is all he was carrying, my Lord." cringed the orc, holding up Sam's meager possessions.
Saruman nodded, as if he had expected nothing more. "So, this is not the ring-bearer," he said aloud, "Well, no matter. I still have my uses for him. Obviously this hobbit is close to the ring-bearer or he would not have accompanied Frodo Baggins on this quest." He looked back at the orc. "Take him to the dungeons and hold him there until he wakes. Then bring him to me. We do not have much time." The orc nodded, picked up Sam in his arms and scurried from the room. Saruman watched thoughtfully, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. If all went well, he thought, then one of Gandalf's pet halflings could very well lead to the downfall of Middle Earth. What a grand joke that would be!
Sam let out a low moan as he slowly came back to himself. His head was pounding and his entire body ached. He was also very cold and shivering. He grudgingly opened his eyes, trying to see where he was. He felt very confused. He was in a dark, stone cell, the rough floor pushing against his face. Gingerly, he sat up, holding his aching head. He was surprised to find his hands bound in front of him. The last thing he could remember was looking at the flowers in Rivendell. Yes, that was right. He had crossed a little river and had been in a forest clearing. Something happened there. He frowned, trying to remember. The monster! The memory of the fiendish creature bearing down on him in the clearing hit him so hard, he gasped. It must have taken him someplace away from the elves, but where? And what would happen to him now?
He carefully stood and began to examine his quarters more closely. There wasn't much to see. A thick, iron door with a grill in its center and a small flap at the bottom took up much of one wall. The rest of the cell's walls were bare stone, as was the floor. The cell was empty save for one very frightened hobbit. In addition to being cold, Sam suddenly realized how parched and hungry he was. He wondered when was the last time he had eaten. He had no idea how much time had passed since the monster had taken him. The pounding in his head was making him queasy so he sat back down and leaned his aching body against the wall. There was nothing he could do now but wait.
He had lost all sense of time when the loud clang of a bold being pulled startled Sam out a restless doze. His head snapped up and he watched fearfully as the door swung open and the flickering light from a torch momentarily blinded him. "Come along, rat," snarled the large orc that filled the doorway. It reached down and dragged Sam roughly to his feet. "The Master requests your presence!" A smaller orc, bearing the torch, laughed harshly. Sam felt a cold chill run down his back. The larger orc gave him a push and Sam stumbled down the corridor toward another iron- bound door, the small orc in front, the large one behind. They had no fear that he would escape, but the orcs were taking no chances.
Sam was led through the door and up the winding stairway. His short legs quickly grew so heavy from the unaccustomed exertion that he wasn't sure how much longer he could continue. Whenever he staggered or fell, the orc behind would snarl menacingly and hoist Sam back onto his feet, forcing him onward. They passed many doorways on their journey up from the dungeons, but the orcs passed them by without a second look. Finally, they came to one more elaborately carved than rest. It was the same Sam had passed through before, although he did not know this. The door opened and the orcs entered, shoving their prisoner before them.
Sam stumbled and fell onto his hands and knees. The marble felt cold and lifeless beneath him. Slowly, Sam lifted his aching head and found himself meeting the cold, black eyes of a tall man clothed all in shimmering white seated upon a throne perched high on the upper level of an imposing dais. The man reminded Sam of Gandalf and the hobbit couldn't help but wonder if he were in the presence of another of the Istari. He knew there were others, but Gandalf was the only one he had ever met. The man's unrelenting stare seemed to freeze the terrified hobbit to the spot. Sam wasn't sure he could have moved even if he had wanted to. All he could do was stare into those impenetrable eyes. Finally, the man broke his gaze and gracefully stood up. Sam's eyes continued to follow the wizard as he slowly got to his own feet.
When the man was a few feet from Sam, he stopped, peering down at the small figure before him. "Do you know who I am, halfling?" the man demanded quietly, Sam gulped nervously, his mouth dry, and shook his head slowly. The man smiled contemptuously. "I thought not. I do not imagine Gandalf felt it necessary to tell you about me as yet." The man pulled himself up, his tall figure becoming more imposing than ever. "I am Saruman," he announced, his booming voice ringing in Sam's ears. "Do you know me now?"
Sam's mind went blank as he frantically searched for any memories he had of this name. Suddenly, he seemed to remember Gandalf mentioning a Saruman the White, the head of his order. He frowned in thought. Gandalf had left Frodo and Sam to meet with this head and Sam had the impression that something had gone wrong and that was why Gandalf had not met them at Bree. It also occurred to the hobbit that if this Saruman had monsters in his employ, he was not a friend. Sam looked up, his lips pressed tightly together, "I have heard of you." he said tightly. "You are the head of Gandalf's Order."
Saruman's eyebrows rose in slight surprise. "So, you do know something of me, But not the entire story, I think." he mused. He continued to regard the hobbit thoughtfully. "You are not the ring-bearer." he said suddenly.
Sam blinked in surprise. This was not what he expected to hear. It was obvious that this wizard knew something of what had been going on since he and Frodo left Hobbiton, but Sam was determined not to tell him any more. "Nooo," replied Sam slowly continuing to watch Saruman warily.
"No, you are not," agreed Saruman pleasantly, "But, you are one of his trusted companions, sent to accompany him from the Shire to Rivendell." Sam said nothing. "You do not need to confirm this," continued Saruman dismissively. "I had hoped to capture the ring-bearer, Frodo Baggins," Sam winced at hearing his master's name, "But you will prove almost as useful to me." Saruman began to slowly approach Sam, his glittering eyes boring into Sam's. "You will kill the ring-bearer," he hissed, "and bring to me the One Ring."