Hello all! Wanted to get this chapter out. Summer classes start for me next
week and I'm afraid my free time will be significantly decreased soon! So,
I'll get out as much as I can before things get too hectic. May not be that
many more chapters, but not too sure how long the final story will be!
Thank you as always for reading and reviewing. You guys make checking my
email such fun!
Sam: Frodo will appear again, have no fear! He certainly hasn't forgotten Sam, nor Sam him.
Hobbity: Unfortunately, everyone assumes that the distant Shire has been untouched by all the unpleasantness of the past year. Little does anyone know that Sam is not sitting happily at the Green Dragon quaffing ale! If they did, well things would certainly be different! But Sam and Frodo will be united...eventually.
FrodoBaggins87: I figured Tolkien covered the journey from Edoras to Rivendell quite nicely and I didn't really need to repeat all that unless it was pertinent to my story (which it isn't!). I have read a few fics that seem to drag on such journeys interminably and you keep thinking, "Come on! What is something going to HAPPEN!?" If events happen on the journey, that's one thing. But in my case, it would have simply been filler and this story is long enough as it is!
Lauralsjr: Maybe I'm the only one that felt others really didn't see Sam without associating him with Frodo. I always thought of him as being shy and retiring around the others and always by Frodo's side, so naturally people began to think of them as a unit. Since Frodo was the Ringbearer and "more important", he would get top billing! Maybe that's why I always liked Sam. He seemed so underappreciated (like in the ROTK movie at the Black Gates – it's all "Frodo, Frodo, Frodo". Does anyone say anything about Sam? Nooooooo! ).
Bronwyn: Helveg certainly meant well and under different circumstances, her advice would make sense! Frodo won't be happy when he finds out what's really been going on!
Bookworm2000: Yeah, Fatty does end up in the lockholes. Hmmm. Do I hear "foreshadowing"!?
Gamgeefest: Yes, we are now in the summer and by the end of this chapter, into September. That's why I wanted to wait to do Frodo's chapter so it would fit better time-wise with what was going on in the Shire.
Arwen Baggins: Thank you for still reading! I hope that means it hasn't gotten boring! I think that as a skilled healer, Helveg can detect the remnants of the Morgul poison in Frodo and because of that, foresees future unhappiness, especially for Sam. That is why she says what she does to Frodo.
Althea: I don't think I can imagine Frodo partying away knowing how Sam feels about him right now. Frodo carries lots of guilt with him and Sam's departure ways heavily upon him. He is still anxious to find him, but thinks Helveg's words ring true, so will wait. Too bad.
LalaithoftheBruinen: Haven't completely decided what will happen to Hertig at this point! I'm afraid you'll just have to wait and see!
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Chapter 22 A Matter of Pipeweed
The summer was unlike any previous summer of Samwise Gamgee's relatively short life. He had quickly settled into life with the members of Fredegar's little band of rebels. His experience on the Quest stood him in good stead. He was used to living rough and being hunted. It was not pleasant, but his companions were genial and loyal and they all got on well. In fact, as time went on and Sam proved himself over and over, many began to look to him for leadership and guidance when planning their missions.
For the most part, the rebels avoided direct confrontations with the ruffians. Most of their efforts involved stealing crops to give to the needy and sabotaging some of the new projects ordered by Lotho, such as building shacks and destroying smials. They were not big things, but enough to irritate and harass Lotho and his men. Hobbits are not violent people and none had any desire to kill unless it was truly unavoidable. Sam was often plagued by nightmares about his killing of Fig. Yes, Fig may have deserved it, but that didn't make it any easier for Sam to live with. Sam spent many sleepless nights regretting his actions and thinking about Frodo and the others. Wondering if he would ever see them again. His master was never far from his thoughts.
Late one afternoon, Sam and Fredegar lay on their stomachs well hidden in the brush watching a wagon full of kegs rumble by. "They come by once a week," whispered Fredegar. "Lotho brings kegs of pipeweed up from the south and stores them in caves in the hills of Scary. Then, he sells them in Bree."
"Where does he get all the pipeweed?" asked Sam as he studied the wagon and its driver.
"Well, Lotho grows some of it himself. He owns a good deal of land in the Southfarthing. But, a large amount he has his men 'appropriate for the greater good of the Shire' as he puts it, from the other growers. Needless to say, they never see a shilling," growled Fredegar bitterly. His father had a substantial farm in the south and Lotho's ruffians had helped themselves to a large percentage of his latest crop. "Some will have nothing left to sell themselves and won't have any money to buy supplies for the winter."
Sam nodded thoughtfully. He remembered the wagons he had seen at Sarn Ford as well as the hobbits working in the fields. There must be something they could do! "Do you know where they store the kegs?" he asked turning to his friend.
Fredegar shrugged. "Not exactly. No one has ever bothered to follow the wagons that I know of. What's the point?"
Sam was thinking hard. "What if we took the kegs to Bree and sold them ourselves?" he wondered aloud.
Fredegar turned to stare at him. "Do what? Us steal the kegs and sell them!?" He shook his head in amazement at his friend's audacity, but as he considered the idea, it began to appeal to him.
"Aye," replied Sam. He was staring off into the distance where the wagon had disappeared around a bend. "If we could find out where they're hidin' the pipeweed, we might be able to steal at least some o' the kegs and give the money back to the farmers Lotho stole it from. We'd hit old Pimple where it would hurt him the most – his pocketbook!"
Fredegar now grinned and slapped Sam on the back. "Samwise Gamgee," he said, "I think you have hit upon a very fine plan! Let's follow the wagon and see where it takes us!"
The wagon had been moving along at a leisurely pace. The driver, an obese man dripping sweat, seemed more concerned with the contents of his bottle than about reaching his destination any time soon. Sam and Fredegar easily caught up with the wagon and were able to follow it without much difficulty. The mule seemed to know where it was going and was content to amble along without any interference from the driver.
The sun was low in the sky when they reached a clearing in the woods. A small hut with a trail of smoke meandering from its chimney stood off to one side. On the opposite side of the clearing was a steep cliff, an opening visible at its base.
"Ho! Harry !" cried the driver as the wagon lurched to halt near the cave entrance. "You there?"
A short, stocky man came stumbling out of the hut, hitching up his pants. He looked irritable. "It's about time you showed up, Ham," he growled, scratching his ribs. "I expected you hours ago! I'm more'n ready to get out of this dump!" With that, the two men began unloading the barrels of pipeweed and carrying them into the cave. Lotho had established several such sites where goods could be stored and then shipped out of the Shire. After the barrels were unloaded, Lars took Ham's place on the wagon and turned the mule around. Unlike his predecessor, he was anxious to get going. With a sigh, Ham watched the wagon disappear into the trees. He then turned, bottle clenched firmly in his hand and waddled into the hut, slamming the door behind him.
Sam and Fredegar quietly slipped out from under the cover of the trees and made their way to the cave. There was no gate or other barrier to keep them out. The last rays of the late afternoon sun showed them the large space within was packed with kegs. The two hobbits turned to each other and grinned in triumph. It was obvious there was only one guard at a time and if the two they had already seen were any example of the type of men used, the guard would be little hindrance to their plans. Fredegar grabbed one keg and Sam another, then the two crept from the cave and disappeared back into the forest. There were plans to be made.
It took little effort to convince the others of their plan. Tamblin Bracegirdle was kin to some of the Sandheavers over in Bree and knew they would help fence the stolen merchandise. Largo stared thoughtfully at the two small kegs Sam and Fredegar had brought back.
"I have an idea," he said finally opening one of the kegs and dumping its contents onto the stone floor of the cave. He then put a few handfuls back into the keg covering the bottom and hurried out through the tunnels. When he returned fifteen minutes later, the keg was three-quarters full of old leaves and detritus from the forest outside. Largo then filled the remainder with pipeweed and sealed the keg. "Perfect!" he announced hefting the keg to feel its weight. "If we can remove the pipeweed in sacks and refill the barrels with leaves and such, it will be a long time before they realize what has happened! If they open the kegs, it will look like they're still full of pipeweed. If we steal the kegs outright, even those fools will catch on eventually, but by simply stealing the contents, they'll never know the difference!"
"At least not until after someone has bought the keg!" laughed Fredegar.
"True," agreed Largo, "And when that does happen, we'll probably have to go into a new line of business! But in the meantime, we can at least help out the growers a little."
The plan worked beautifully. Under the cover of darkness, several of the band would creep into the cave, grab as many kegs as they could carry, and hurry back into the woods where the others waited. There, they would dump the pipeweed into sacks, refill the kegs with dead leaves filling the last few inches with a layer of pipeweed and seal them back up again. Then, the kegs were returned to the cave and more brought back and the process was repeated. When they had filled all the sacks they could carry, they halted for the night and returned to their hideout. Later, they transported the goods to the Sandheavers in Bree and after the sales were complete, the money was quietly distributed to the impoverished growers. Everyone agreed it was a great success!
Unfortunately, such success is unlikely to go unnoticed. The band of rebels had located other caches of pipeweed and rather than refill all the barrels , they decided it would be safer to just do some in each. It would be harder to trace where the tampered kegs had come from. But, it wasn't long before buyers outside the Shire began to complain that many of their barrels were full of trash and not the Longbottom leaf they had paid for. Lotho was furious! His men were helpless to explain how or where the tampering had occurred. What was certain was that it was hurting his profits and credibility. If they didn't find the culprits soon, no one would buy Lotho's pipeweed!
Weeks went by and Lotho had been unsuccessful in tracking down the rebels. In fact, if anything, they seemed bolder than ever. It was now early fall and Lotho sat in the study of Bag End fuming. The most recent shipment of pipeweed to Bree had been almost entirely made up of trash. The buyers had informed Lotho's men they would no longer deal with Lotho. They seemed to have acquired other sources of pipeweed; more reliable sources, and no longer needed what he had to offer.
So, Lotho sat before the fire, a half drunk bottle of wine by his side, bemoaning the unfairness of it all. Several empty bottles lay scattered at his feet. It was late and the weather unsettled. Perfect for his foul mood. "It isn't fair!" he whined to himself yet again as he drained his goblet. "It's not my fault! It's those fools who work for me! Bunch o' drunks and thieves! It's not fair!"
"No?" At the sound, Lotho whirled about in his chair so quickly that he found himself unceremoniously sprawled on the floor. He peered in the darkness beyond the door to his study trying to see who had spoken.
"Who...who's there?" he demanded drunkenly, "Show yerself!" He tried to pull himself together, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. A thrill of fear ran down his back as a tall figure clad all in what appeared to rags slowly stepped into the room. It would have been easy to mistake the man for a beggar except for the dark, penetrating eyes that glittered with malice as they stared down at the cowering hobbit. There seemed to be another figure cringing in the darkness of the hallway.
"Do you not know me, Lotho Sackville-Baggins?" asked the man with a sneer, his voice deep and resonant. Lotho merely blinked at him in confusion. The man laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "You can call me "Sharkey". You have been sending me all sorts of goods for sometime now. It seemed to me that is was time to come and assist you in your endeavors here in the Shire."
"Sh..Sharkey?" repeated Lotho stupidly. "From th'...th' south?"
"Yes," replied the man softly, "That is correct. From the south. It seems to me that I have not come a moment too soon. I have heard that your recent exports of pipeweed have not been of the quality one comes to expect from the Shire."
This brought Lotho lurching to his feet. He grabbed onto the back of the chair for support as he glared belligerently at the gaunt man before him. "S'not my fault!" he declared furiously. "Blasted rebels up in th' hills keep meddlin' with m'kegs! S'not my fault!"
"Rebels, eh?" said Sharkey thoughtfully. "Well, not to worry my dear Lotho. We will take care of them soon enough and then, we will tighten things up here in the Shire. You will see. With me to assist you, no one here in the Shire will be able to resist you and money will soon be pouring in. You will be the wealthiest, most powerful hobbit ever known!"
Lotho grinned blearily as the power of Sharkey's words fell over him. "Yesss!" he hiccupped. "No one'll be able to defy me anymore! I'll be invincible!" He began to laugh and collapsed into his chair. A moment later, he had passed out and Sharkey eyed him with undisguised disgust. The cringing figure from the hallway slowly crept into the circle of firelight and huddled near the feet of its master.
"Well, Wormtongue," said the man still staring down at the unconscious hobbit snoring loudly in the chair. "I suspect our job here will much easier than even I had anticipated. By the time Frodo Baggins and the others return, they will not even recognize their beloved Shire! Perhaps this will teach them not to dismiss me quite so lightly in the future." He turned towards the door and signaled Wormtongue to follow him from the room. "Come, we have much work to do, beginning with the elimination of this so-called rebel band."
As the two figures melted into the darkness of the hallway, Lotho continued to snore contentedly, oblivious to the monster he had just allied himself. Saruman had arrived.
Sam: Frodo will appear again, have no fear! He certainly hasn't forgotten Sam, nor Sam him.
Hobbity: Unfortunately, everyone assumes that the distant Shire has been untouched by all the unpleasantness of the past year. Little does anyone know that Sam is not sitting happily at the Green Dragon quaffing ale! If they did, well things would certainly be different! But Sam and Frodo will be united...eventually.
FrodoBaggins87: I figured Tolkien covered the journey from Edoras to Rivendell quite nicely and I didn't really need to repeat all that unless it was pertinent to my story (which it isn't!). I have read a few fics that seem to drag on such journeys interminably and you keep thinking, "Come on! What is something going to HAPPEN!?" If events happen on the journey, that's one thing. But in my case, it would have simply been filler and this story is long enough as it is!
Lauralsjr: Maybe I'm the only one that felt others really didn't see Sam without associating him with Frodo. I always thought of him as being shy and retiring around the others and always by Frodo's side, so naturally people began to think of them as a unit. Since Frodo was the Ringbearer and "more important", he would get top billing! Maybe that's why I always liked Sam. He seemed so underappreciated (like in the ROTK movie at the Black Gates – it's all "Frodo, Frodo, Frodo". Does anyone say anything about Sam? Nooooooo! ).
Bronwyn: Helveg certainly meant well and under different circumstances, her advice would make sense! Frodo won't be happy when he finds out what's really been going on!
Bookworm2000: Yeah, Fatty does end up in the lockholes. Hmmm. Do I hear "foreshadowing"!?
Gamgeefest: Yes, we are now in the summer and by the end of this chapter, into September. That's why I wanted to wait to do Frodo's chapter so it would fit better time-wise with what was going on in the Shire.
Arwen Baggins: Thank you for still reading! I hope that means it hasn't gotten boring! I think that as a skilled healer, Helveg can detect the remnants of the Morgul poison in Frodo and because of that, foresees future unhappiness, especially for Sam. That is why she says what she does to Frodo.
Althea: I don't think I can imagine Frodo partying away knowing how Sam feels about him right now. Frodo carries lots of guilt with him and Sam's departure ways heavily upon him. He is still anxious to find him, but thinks Helveg's words ring true, so will wait. Too bad.
LalaithoftheBruinen: Haven't completely decided what will happen to Hertig at this point! I'm afraid you'll just have to wait and see!
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Chapter 22 A Matter of Pipeweed
The summer was unlike any previous summer of Samwise Gamgee's relatively short life. He had quickly settled into life with the members of Fredegar's little band of rebels. His experience on the Quest stood him in good stead. He was used to living rough and being hunted. It was not pleasant, but his companions were genial and loyal and they all got on well. In fact, as time went on and Sam proved himself over and over, many began to look to him for leadership and guidance when planning their missions.
For the most part, the rebels avoided direct confrontations with the ruffians. Most of their efforts involved stealing crops to give to the needy and sabotaging some of the new projects ordered by Lotho, such as building shacks and destroying smials. They were not big things, but enough to irritate and harass Lotho and his men. Hobbits are not violent people and none had any desire to kill unless it was truly unavoidable. Sam was often plagued by nightmares about his killing of Fig. Yes, Fig may have deserved it, but that didn't make it any easier for Sam to live with. Sam spent many sleepless nights regretting his actions and thinking about Frodo and the others. Wondering if he would ever see them again. His master was never far from his thoughts.
Late one afternoon, Sam and Fredegar lay on their stomachs well hidden in the brush watching a wagon full of kegs rumble by. "They come by once a week," whispered Fredegar. "Lotho brings kegs of pipeweed up from the south and stores them in caves in the hills of Scary. Then, he sells them in Bree."
"Where does he get all the pipeweed?" asked Sam as he studied the wagon and its driver.
"Well, Lotho grows some of it himself. He owns a good deal of land in the Southfarthing. But, a large amount he has his men 'appropriate for the greater good of the Shire' as he puts it, from the other growers. Needless to say, they never see a shilling," growled Fredegar bitterly. His father had a substantial farm in the south and Lotho's ruffians had helped themselves to a large percentage of his latest crop. "Some will have nothing left to sell themselves and won't have any money to buy supplies for the winter."
Sam nodded thoughtfully. He remembered the wagons he had seen at Sarn Ford as well as the hobbits working in the fields. There must be something they could do! "Do you know where they store the kegs?" he asked turning to his friend.
Fredegar shrugged. "Not exactly. No one has ever bothered to follow the wagons that I know of. What's the point?"
Sam was thinking hard. "What if we took the kegs to Bree and sold them ourselves?" he wondered aloud.
Fredegar turned to stare at him. "Do what? Us steal the kegs and sell them!?" He shook his head in amazement at his friend's audacity, but as he considered the idea, it began to appeal to him.
"Aye," replied Sam. He was staring off into the distance where the wagon had disappeared around a bend. "If we could find out where they're hidin' the pipeweed, we might be able to steal at least some o' the kegs and give the money back to the farmers Lotho stole it from. We'd hit old Pimple where it would hurt him the most – his pocketbook!"
Fredegar now grinned and slapped Sam on the back. "Samwise Gamgee," he said, "I think you have hit upon a very fine plan! Let's follow the wagon and see where it takes us!"
The wagon had been moving along at a leisurely pace. The driver, an obese man dripping sweat, seemed more concerned with the contents of his bottle than about reaching his destination any time soon. Sam and Fredegar easily caught up with the wagon and were able to follow it without much difficulty. The mule seemed to know where it was going and was content to amble along without any interference from the driver.
The sun was low in the sky when they reached a clearing in the woods. A small hut with a trail of smoke meandering from its chimney stood off to one side. On the opposite side of the clearing was a steep cliff, an opening visible at its base.
"Ho! Harry !" cried the driver as the wagon lurched to halt near the cave entrance. "You there?"
A short, stocky man came stumbling out of the hut, hitching up his pants. He looked irritable. "It's about time you showed up, Ham," he growled, scratching his ribs. "I expected you hours ago! I'm more'n ready to get out of this dump!" With that, the two men began unloading the barrels of pipeweed and carrying them into the cave. Lotho had established several such sites where goods could be stored and then shipped out of the Shire. After the barrels were unloaded, Lars took Ham's place on the wagon and turned the mule around. Unlike his predecessor, he was anxious to get going. With a sigh, Ham watched the wagon disappear into the trees. He then turned, bottle clenched firmly in his hand and waddled into the hut, slamming the door behind him.
Sam and Fredegar quietly slipped out from under the cover of the trees and made their way to the cave. There was no gate or other barrier to keep them out. The last rays of the late afternoon sun showed them the large space within was packed with kegs. The two hobbits turned to each other and grinned in triumph. It was obvious there was only one guard at a time and if the two they had already seen were any example of the type of men used, the guard would be little hindrance to their plans. Fredegar grabbed one keg and Sam another, then the two crept from the cave and disappeared back into the forest. There were plans to be made.
It took little effort to convince the others of their plan. Tamblin Bracegirdle was kin to some of the Sandheavers over in Bree and knew they would help fence the stolen merchandise. Largo stared thoughtfully at the two small kegs Sam and Fredegar had brought back.
"I have an idea," he said finally opening one of the kegs and dumping its contents onto the stone floor of the cave. He then put a few handfuls back into the keg covering the bottom and hurried out through the tunnels. When he returned fifteen minutes later, the keg was three-quarters full of old leaves and detritus from the forest outside. Largo then filled the remainder with pipeweed and sealed the keg. "Perfect!" he announced hefting the keg to feel its weight. "If we can remove the pipeweed in sacks and refill the barrels with leaves and such, it will be a long time before they realize what has happened! If they open the kegs, it will look like they're still full of pipeweed. If we steal the kegs outright, even those fools will catch on eventually, but by simply stealing the contents, they'll never know the difference!"
"At least not until after someone has bought the keg!" laughed Fredegar.
"True," agreed Largo, "And when that does happen, we'll probably have to go into a new line of business! But in the meantime, we can at least help out the growers a little."
The plan worked beautifully. Under the cover of darkness, several of the band would creep into the cave, grab as many kegs as they could carry, and hurry back into the woods where the others waited. There, they would dump the pipeweed into sacks, refill the kegs with dead leaves filling the last few inches with a layer of pipeweed and seal them back up again. Then, the kegs were returned to the cave and more brought back and the process was repeated. When they had filled all the sacks they could carry, they halted for the night and returned to their hideout. Later, they transported the goods to the Sandheavers in Bree and after the sales were complete, the money was quietly distributed to the impoverished growers. Everyone agreed it was a great success!
Unfortunately, such success is unlikely to go unnoticed. The band of rebels had located other caches of pipeweed and rather than refill all the barrels , they decided it would be safer to just do some in each. It would be harder to trace where the tampered kegs had come from. But, it wasn't long before buyers outside the Shire began to complain that many of their barrels were full of trash and not the Longbottom leaf they had paid for. Lotho was furious! His men were helpless to explain how or where the tampering had occurred. What was certain was that it was hurting his profits and credibility. If they didn't find the culprits soon, no one would buy Lotho's pipeweed!
Weeks went by and Lotho had been unsuccessful in tracking down the rebels. In fact, if anything, they seemed bolder than ever. It was now early fall and Lotho sat in the study of Bag End fuming. The most recent shipment of pipeweed to Bree had been almost entirely made up of trash. The buyers had informed Lotho's men they would no longer deal with Lotho. They seemed to have acquired other sources of pipeweed; more reliable sources, and no longer needed what he had to offer.
So, Lotho sat before the fire, a half drunk bottle of wine by his side, bemoaning the unfairness of it all. Several empty bottles lay scattered at his feet. It was late and the weather unsettled. Perfect for his foul mood. "It isn't fair!" he whined to himself yet again as he drained his goblet. "It's not my fault! It's those fools who work for me! Bunch o' drunks and thieves! It's not fair!"
"No?" At the sound, Lotho whirled about in his chair so quickly that he found himself unceremoniously sprawled on the floor. He peered in the darkness beyond the door to his study trying to see who had spoken.
"Who...who's there?" he demanded drunkenly, "Show yerself!" He tried to pull himself together, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. A thrill of fear ran down his back as a tall figure clad all in what appeared to rags slowly stepped into the room. It would have been easy to mistake the man for a beggar except for the dark, penetrating eyes that glittered with malice as they stared down at the cowering hobbit. There seemed to be another figure cringing in the darkness of the hallway.
"Do you not know me, Lotho Sackville-Baggins?" asked the man with a sneer, his voice deep and resonant. Lotho merely blinked at him in confusion. The man laughed. It was not a pleasant sound. "You can call me "Sharkey". You have been sending me all sorts of goods for sometime now. It seemed to me that is was time to come and assist you in your endeavors here in the Shire."
"Sh..Sharkey?" repeated Lotho stupidly. "From th'...th' south?"
"Yes," replied the man softly, "That is correct. From the south. It seems to me that I have not come a moment too soon. I have heard that your recent exports of pipeweed have not been of the quality one comes to expect from the Shire."
This brought Lotho lurching to his feet. He grabbed onto the back of the chair for support as he glared belligerently at the gaunt man before him. "S'not my fault!" he declared furiously. "Blasted rebels up in th' hills keep meddlin' with m'kegs! S'not my fault!"
"Rebels, eh?" said Sharkey thoughtfully. "Well, not to worry my dear Lotho. We will take care of them soon enough and then, we will tighten things up here in the Shire. You will see. With me to assist you, no one here in the Shire will be able to resist you and money will soon be pouring in. You will be the wealthiest, most powerful hobbit ever known!"
Lotho grinned blearily as the power of Sharkey's words fell over him. "Yesss!" he hiccupped. "No one'll be able to defy me anymore! I'll be invincible!" He began to laugh and collapsed into his chair. A moment later, he had passed out and Sharkey eyed him with undisguised disgust. The cringing figure from the hallway slowly crept into the circle of firelight and huddled near the feet of its master.
"Well, Wormtongue," said the man still staring down at the unconscious hobbit snoring loudly in the chair. "I suspect our job here will much easier than even I had anticipated. By the time Frodo Baggins and the others return, they will not even recognize their beloved Shire! Perhaps this will teach them not to dismiss me quite so lightly in the future." He turned towards the door and signaled Wormtongue to follow him from the room. "Come, we have much work to do, beginning with the elimination of this so-called rebel band."
As the two figures melted into the darkness of the hallway, Lotho continued to snore contentedly, oblivious to the monster he had just allied himself. Saruman had arrived.