Saruman looked out over the ecoterrorism taking place in his front yard.
Blast and bugger it, he hadn't taken this one into account. There were a
couple of dozen of them, trees walking around smashing his orcs, who were
hoplessly outclassed.
He couldn't believe it. Never once, did it occur to him that the trees might strike back with a firey vengeance. He just thought they would stand there, maybe take him off their friends list.
A large crash off in the distance caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see his beautiful dam burst apart. The river gushed forth and flooded Isengard, drowning countless minions and ruining his mines.
Saruman scowled as the trees started swimming around and laughing. He didn't have to think too hard as to who was behind this one. There was only one man who talked to trees and hung out with the two hobbits who were now rushing off to the storeroom, probably to get into his stash. All the naturist crap and thrown-togetherness of this attack pointed to one man.
"Gandalf," he said darkly.
Grima came out, wiping some soot off his face.
"Are you sure? Looks like the two little hobbits were behind it."
"He put them up to it, I am sure," he said, narrowing his eyes.
"I thought you said he was always winging it."
"I am wondering," he left it hanging.
Down below, Pippin had come out of the store room with a funny hat and was running around yelling, "I speak for the trees!"
"Who else but Gandalf, possibly that slacker Radagast, is such a nature loving, tree-hugger? No, Gandalf wastes his time with trees, shrubbery and little furry animals."
"Insects," Grima muttered.
"Insects! Hundreds of species of moth! What good are they?! They can't speak, they can't think, they can't opporate heavy machinery! When I reshape this world I'm not going to waste my time on daphodils and birds, and twenty species of slugs. It's going to be machines! Siege engines, automatic weapons!"
"But sir?"
"What?!"
"He has managed to escape you once, and now we cannot get out of Orthanc."
There was a slight "eep" as Saruman threw another fireball at Wormtongue.
"That is a good point," he said once the smoke cleared, "but once my legions of terror are done wiping out the Rohirrim, they will return, and I will have new timber to build and fuel my fires!"
He let out several fantastic peals of his most evil laughter. This was why he became an evil wizard, he loved this kind of delicious irony.
There was a ping coming from his palantir, a message was coming through.
"Get that will you, I am too busy glowering at the trees."
Wormtongue crawled back into the room, and a few minutes came back with a bit of parchment, which Saruman snatched away from him.
"Ah, this will be Lurtz detailing the victory," as he started to read it.
"Dear Sir," it read, "we were doing great, until you're goody-goody friend Gandalf showed up with 500 Rohirrim and a ridiculous amount of trees. Our asses are effectively kicked. Retreating in an undignified manner.
Sincerely, Lurtz."
A few minutes later he was sitting in his study, staring at a random point on the wall, wondering what else the day had in store for him.
Once again, Grima disturbed him.
"Sir?" he squeaked.
Saruman gave him a withering look, "what now?"
"Um, Sauron is on the line, he wants to speak with you, and Theodon is coming up the drive."
Oh bloody hell...
He couldn't believe it. Never once, did it occur to him that the trees might strike back with a firey vengeance. He just thought they would stand there, maybe take him off their friends list.
A large crash off in the distance caught his attention, and he turned just in time to see his beautiful dam burst apart. The river gushed forth and flooded Isengard, drowning countless minions and ruining his mines.
Saruman scowled as the trees started swimming around and laughing. He didn't have to think too hard as to who was behind this one. There was only one man who talked to trees and hung out with the two hobbits who were now rushing off to the storeroom, probably to get into his stash. All the naturist crap and thrown-togetherness of this attack pointed to one man.
"Gandalf," he said darkly.
Grima came out, wiping some soot off his face.
"Are you sure? Looks like the two little hobbits were behind it."
"He put them up to it, I am sure," he said, narrowing his eyes.
"I thought you said he was always winging it."
"I am wondering," he left it hanging.
Down below, Pippin had come out of the store room with a funny hat and was running around yelling, "I speak for the trees!"
"Who else but Gandalf, possibly that slacker Radagast, is such a nature loving, tree-hugger? No, Gandalf wastes his time with trees, shrubbery and little furry animals."
"Insects," Grima muttered.
"Insects! Hundreds of species of moth! What good are they?! They can't speak, they can't think, they can't opporate heavy machinery! When I reshape this world I'm not going to waste my time on daphodils and birds, and twenty species of slugs. It's going to be machines! Siege engines, automatic weapons!"
"But sir?"
"What?!"
"He has managed to escape you once, and now we cannot get out of Orthanc."
There was a slight "eep" as Saruman threw another fireball at Wormtongue.
"That is a good point," he said once the smoke cleared, "but once my legions of terror are done wiping out the Rohirrim, they will return, and I will have new timber to build and fuel my fires!"
He let out several fantastic peals of his most evil laughter. This was why he became an evil wizard, he loved this kind of delicious irony.
There was a ping coming from his palantir, a message was coming through.
"Get that will you, I am too busy glowering at the trees."
Wormtongue crawled back into the room, and a few minutes came back with a bit of parchment, which Saruman snatched away from him.
"Ah, this will be Lurtz detailing the victory," as he started to read it.
"Dear Sir," it read, "we were doing great, until you're goody-goody friend Gandalf showed up with 500 Rohirrim and a ridiculous amount of trees. Our asses are effectively kicked. Retreating in an undignified manner.
Sincerely, Lurtz."
A few minutes later he was sitting in his study, staring at a random point on the wall, wondering what else the day had in store for him.
Once again, Grima disturbed him.
"Sir?" he squeaked.
Saruman gave him a withering look, "what now?"
"Um, Sauron is on the line, he wants to speak with you, and Theodon is coming up the drive."
Oh bloody hell...