A chilling wind cut into Grima's face as he sped towards Isengard. Upon
crossing the river Isen and making it through the Gap of Rohan, an icy rain
began to fall and distant thunder could be heard in the west.
Finally his destination was made clear to him, the dark tower of Othanc rising menacingly through the torrents of rain. He past parties of orcs, Uruks and goblins patrolling their master's borders. Grima was known to them and was left untouched and unhindered. He did not fear the servants of Saruman through he dare not stop lest feel the wrath of his master for not bringing news sooner of the plans and desires of Theoden.
Following the wrecked and scorched paths towards Orthanc, he came to the dark steps of the black tower. Breathless, he climbed from his steed knowing with great pleasure that it shall be devoured by wolves and goblins and so he would not have to look upon a reminder of Rohan again.
"Some revenge least I have," he hissed as he assended the stair.
As Grima came to the doors he found them slightly ajar. He perceived this highly curious. None, save the highest of Saruman's guard were allowed to enter Orthanc and none would be so folly as to leave his door unclosed. Shaking slightly from cold and fury, for bitter still was his mind, he pushed the doors wide and crossed the threshold.
Silence met Grima's ears. The day outside was dull and gloomy though Grima still had to adjust to the welcoming void. All torches burnt low or were dead in the bracket. A slight foreboding arose in his stomach for seldom did Saruman leave his corridors unlit. He may have worked with and served things of darkness and shadow, but was wise to not allow places for them, lest they take stead in his home.
Grima walked slowly down the stone hall. The deafening quiet broken only by the thundering of his steps. Deeply he breathed in his surroundings knowing safety and triumph. Till, as climbing to a higher chamber he caught heed of something foul.
Rotting flesh and stale blood began to fill the air, the stench growing ever stronger as he continued. So overpowering had it become that he lifted his cloak to stopper his gagging. Regretfully he continued, eyes watering, burning from the thickness of death. He met its source, the piled bodies of his master's warriors. More then twenty Uruks lay slain on the stone. Eyes wide he gasped at the site. His head swum with sickness as he came ever closer. Grima was in trouble of falling into unconsciousness, was the strength of the fume. The Uruks lie motionless, days dead. Their ink like blood soaked into the stone, which now would be forever black. Insides, dark and rotting, hung from the clefts in their flesh. Maggots taking their fill on the deathly banquet.
"How?" Grima asked himself reaching his spare hand to the wall to steady his failing body.
His palm met congealed blood not yet dried. Looking at it Grima retched and foolishly took deep breaths to regain composure. From the fume burning his nose and throat he retched again and rushed forward covering his face.
Still amazed Grima was as he fled the slaughter, at the hewn bodies and blood stained surrounds. Long would the scenes of embedded weapons in Uruk armour and the calls of ravens, pecking high windows as to gain entry to have their fill, play forth in his mind. Suddenly Grima was struck dumb and fell to his knees. If this was indeed the servants, what had become of the master?
Gathering himself he ran with all the speed he could muster towards his lord's chamber. Forcibly he threw himself against the throne room doors and was caught at the throat by a cold and deathly strong hand. Grima let out a chocked cry and instinctively raised his bone white hands in a plea for life.
"It's human," he heard a deep voice speak clearly, ringing the walls with a silent joy.
"Thank bloody oath," he heard another reply. "I'm starving. That black stuff'll back you up for days."
Grima perceived footsteps coming in his direction though they seemed faint and distant as his lack of air continued. The grip on his neck tightened.
"Please," he croaked with his last breath "Do I not even know by what name or power I am ended?" Forcibly he was swung around to meet a face that struck fear into his core. A demonic face of terrible power and wrath.
"Angelus," it spoke to him. Again he was swung around, his lungs burning for air. He met another of like demonic face, though with hair like a new winter's snow.
"Spike," Angelus spoke again. "Now your greasiness that you've met us, you can say goodbye as well."
Angelus' grip came to fruition. Grima could expel nor take in air. He feebly grasped at Angelus' wrist to gain relief. His windpipe was being crushed. He could not see. A ringing grew in his ears and whiteness blurred his vision. As though from far off he heard the other speak again, like a harsh summer breeze in aid of torment of the burning sun.
"C'mon Angelus, play nice like. You know they are better fresh and kicking."
"Bah," Angelus spat and threw Grima with all his might into the black marble floor.
Coughing and hoarsely drawing in sweet air, Grima slowly regained his site. He cried in agony clutching his throat only begging for relief. Still he breathed feebly, cast on the floor, no strength to move. Face down he felt the bite of the cold marble. It was broken slightly by a small trickle of warm blood seeping from his brow.
"Mmm. Smell that old boy? Fear, there's nothing like it."
Grima, now with senses back, began to cower, drawing breath quickly. Slowly he raised his head to look upon death. What his gaze met caused great pain in his heart, surpassing physical hurt.
"M.my lord," he stammered. He met the broken figure of Saruman laying on his back on the floor. The wizard's skin drawn tight on his figure though all his being had left him. A splintered bone protruded from the side of his neck and Grima noticed paired puncture wounds surrounding it.
"Master," he cried again, sliding himself towards the lifeless figure. Getting to his knees he stooped over Saruman, looking into his open eyes hazed grey and opaque in death. A single tear slid from his cheek and landed mournfully on the wizard's robes. Not least was the tear for blood now dripped from Grima's brow and he reached to it to stem the flow.
"Aw isn't that sweet," Angelus mocked looking in disgust upon Grima. "If it were possible I'd be all warm and puppy like inside right now." Grima felt great wrath rise inside him, though, he was too clever a snake to let it show, least he too should suffer swift death. Looking forward he saw them again but now they resembled men.
"What are thou that have come to the halls of Saruman the White? How is it that you gained entry here?" Grima found it hard to cloak the bitterness and hatred in his words.
"You know what?" It's the most uncanny thing," Spike smirked thoroughly amused "we got asked that exact same question a couple of days ago, didn't we Angelus."
Angelus gave Grima a stony stare which soon broke into an evil grin
"And look what happened to him," he spoke dryly lowering his eyes to Saruman.
"Then it was you who ended his life?" Grima asked the two.
"Catches on quick this one," Spike joked.
Grima knew in his heart that soon he would share Saruman's fate. If Grima was a master of anything it was truly saving his own devices.
"Then I must thank you," he began feebly raising to his feet, groaning at the aches of his body. Still hoarsely, he began again.
"For Saruman the White was always my tormentor, and forever have I sought release from his grasp. All things I tried but never could I escape the veil of his power." Grima as best he could stooped in a low bow. "For this what you have done, I am forever at your service."
Spike cocked an eyebrow at him and snorted to himself.
"Bullocks, you just had a big cry for him. Bloody sick you nearly made me."
"It was but for my happiness at his demise," Grima returned quickly, fear ever so slightly punctuating his words. "You have my word I am indeed in your service, Lords Angelus and Spike."
Angelus had stood silent but now he walked towards Wormtongue. Grima recoiled at the look of imminent pleasure on Angelus' face.
"Please my lords," Grima begged "I swear it, I am your servant." Angelus had walked to the body of Saruman and knelt to lift his staff from the floor. Surveying it he smiled then turned to Grima with hungry eyes. With a swift movement he swung the staff at Grima. Grima withdrew falling to the floor, hands covering his face, yet, nothing had happened.
"Damn it!" Angelus growled. He turned to Spike who just shrugged.
"Oh well," he conceded and struck Grima in the temple with a mighty blow.
Wormtongue knew blackness and nothing more.
***
Many hours had passed and darkness had fallen when Grima finally awoke, his head stinging as though bitten by wasps. The storm now raged even greater outside, winds howling the great walls of the chamber and raging thunder accompanied the pelting rain. Groggily and extremely weak he looked about the hall which was now bathed in firelight. A sweet song drew his eyes to Spike sitting on the wizard's throne where he drank from a tall flute glass. The contents were thick and lined his upper lip as he withdrew the glass. At first what Grima had thought red wine was indeed blood. Like a withered old man Grima called to him
"My lord?"
Spike, brought quickly from dream harkened to the call
"Bout bloody time, he couldn't have hit you that hard." Spike leapt from the chair and walked to Grima casually stepping over Saruman's body, not even bothering to look down.
"Like your accommodation do you?" Spike asked kindly. Grima moved and the clamour of chains filled the hall. He was shackled by both wrists and ankles, stretched on the wall.
"I am not one for comfort," Grima returned bitterly.
A sudden dizziness took Grima. His head lolled and he let out a groan
"Bit weak are we?" Spike questioned grabbing Grima by his hair and lifting his unfocused gaze to his own. "Wouldn't be surprised," he continued unconcerned "nearly ran you dry we did."
Smiling evilly he let Grima's chin fall back to his chest and took another swig from his glass. Wormtongue now realised that Spike was indeed drinking of him. With great effort he raised his head to observe his wrists above him. Deep cuts were there and his forearms were stained scarlet.
"Those didn't work too well," Spike admitted "so we had to make this one." A chilling cry filled the hall, piercing and horrific. Spike pressed at Grima's stomach where a large gash lay exposed in the side of his wear.
"Oh puck up mate," Spike taunted "could be worse."
He laughed deeply filling his glass again and turned his back on Grima returning to his seat. Grima still moaned as his pain subsided when spike took up his song again.
"What. What is this you sing?" Grima asked faintly. He wanted to be freed but if his questions caused him death he felt that that could be a better end.
"Oh," Spike started, a bit surprised at Grima's ability to speak. "Me mum used to sing it to me. Nice old thing she was," he said reminiscently "till I bit her."
"I do not fear you," Grima spat.
With lightning speed Spike was inches from Grima's face, his own blood filling his senses. Spike smashed his glass on the wall behind Grima and with a shard slowly cut a long tare in Grima's cheek. It took all his power and control not to scream out in pain.
Spike lent in and licked the stream of blood. Grima shuddered at the touch of his tongue. Spike met his eyes again, now displaying his vampiric face. Grima cringed and Spike simply laughed. With an icy voice he spoke a whispered warning to Grima
"You should be afraid."
"What are you?" Grima found himself asking
"Vampire mate," he returned casually "Undead like, demon inside and all. Now then, question times over."
Spike turned again and walked towards the throne. As he got to Saruman and went to step over, grima spoke again
"Why do you keep me here?"
Spike turned to him and grimaced. He reached down and propped Saruman up, his head falling forward. Like an evil ventriloquist he held him and dawning a child like voice grabbed Saruman's chin to make him speak.
"Be a good Worm and listen to Spike. Best be quiet. He knows best. He's a smart one this one."
Taking back his normal voice Spike spoke "Thanks Santa," and gave Saruman a comical kiss on the head before letting his broken form fall back to the floor. Grima expelled air in disgust.
"Why do you leave him there?" Spike surveyed his surroundings and replied simply "Bit of decoration, breaks up all the black see." Spike threw himself back into the chair thoroughly annoyed.
"And where is your friend?"
"Right, that's it!" Spike growled forming his demonic features. He reached beside him and unsheathed a broadsword. With a growl of anger he stood and motioned towards Grima
"He's here," a voice filled the chamber.
Both turned to see Angelus entering through a doorway. Spikes anger was stayed. Angelus was soaked and splattered with mud and dark blood. With him he carried the severed heads of the highest generals in Saruman's army.
"We have control of them now," he spoke to Spike, casting the heads on the floor. Spike beamed.
"Hey," Angelus cried excitedly pointing to Grima "it's awake."
"Yeah," returned Spike unhappily "and he won't bloody shut it. Him and Andrew'd get on well I'd bet."
Angelus sidled to Grima's side. Grima petrified closed his eyes. Another scream echoed the walls.
"Worm being a naughty boy?" Angelus questioned, now digging the dagger in Grima's side further in up to the hilt. Just as quickly Angelus withdrew it, running his finger along the blade, then sucked the blood from his finger.
"I suppose," Angelus started airily "your dirty little mind has been working overtime to figure all this out." He paused, but Wormtongue said nothing. Angelus clenched his teeth and hit Grima across the face. Dangerously he spoke
"Answer when you're spoken to."
"Yes," Grima shouted near to tears of pain and fear. Again, Angelus regaining his airy tones continued.
"You see we came here a few days ago and I can tell you I couldn't be happier. We turned up from a nice little town where I was caged and he," Angelus shot a glance to Spike "was panting for a whore. But now," he laughed "we are free."
Tears streamed Grima's face
"We don't know how we got here but I assure you we are going to stay. Cause we can get a tan now, not like before, and, from what I've learned." Angel paused at his own brilliance "we will rule this Middle-Earth."
Angelus brandishing the dagger looked sternly at Grima
"Now's where you ask how."
"How?" Grima whimpered defeated to his chest
"I'm glad you asked that Worm," Angelus spoke. "As soon as we off'd your man here I got to reading, and it was an interesting read at that. And what I learned is why I have kept you alive. You see, I wanted to tell you myself."
With his last strength Grima looked up.
"Grima my fellow I had to tell you, you were kept alive simply as our appetizer." Angelus grinned more evilly and madly then Grima had seen before "But now." he paused again "Now I can go on for the main course."
Angelus stepped aside and looked to Spike who was leaning on the hilt of the sword. With a welcoming gesture he signalled Wormtongue to Spike.
"Yes!" Spike roared taking up the sword and charging at Grima.
"No wait, please," Gima cried. A final beg for mercy. "I have information that will aid you."
Spike stopped at Angelus' command but not without anger
"C'mon mate let me finish him."
"Wait," Angelus replied "I could enjoy some feeble begging."
Grima composed himself as best he could
"Theoden, a great king of Men abides near here. Lord Saruman sent wild men to attack his lands people. Theoden knows they will assault his city of Edoras." More quickly Grima talked, searching for the crucial piece of information that may save his life.
"He will flee to his great fortress of Helm's Deep. It will be a dangerous road to take through the mountains from Meduseld. It will be slow. They will have woman and children with them."
Angel did not have a look of intrigue about him
"I alone know the secrets of his hall, I alone can help you assail them. Saruman has Wargs and other creatures you may use for your purposes. Without me you will fail."
Angelus lifted his hand
"Very dramatic Worm but I'm not interested in Theoden."
Grima's mouth dropped as Angelus signalled Spike again. Cries of terror and pain above all pain filled the hall as Spike tore into Grima limb by limb until all was silent.
"So," said spike wiping the sprays of scarlet blood from his face "What's the plan? We going for more food or what? It will be just like old times Angelus mate." Spike smiled with excitement "Peasants and wenches and little bits tucked in their beds." Spike shuddered with anticipation. "How I've missed their little screams, calling for mummy as I ate them, not knowing she was dead on the doorstep drained and defiled."
Under his brow Angelus looked to Spike
"No Spike, I'm not interested in the men of this place. Not yet."
With that he stood and left the chamber deep in thought of his plans for the coming day. Spike rather confused simply sat down and took too Grima's torso. A warm drink before he went to bed.
Finally his destination was made clear to him, the dark tower of Othanc rising menacingly through the torrents of rain. He past parties of orcs, Uruks and goblins patrolling their master's borders. Grima was known to them and was left untouched and unhindered. He did not fear the servants of Saruman through he dare not stop lest feel the wrath of his master for not bringing news sooner of the plans and desires of Theoden.
Following the wrecked and scorched paths towards Orthanc, he came to the dark steps of the black tower. Breathless, he climbed from his steed knowing with great pleasure that it shall be devoured by wolves and goblins and so he would not have to look upon a reminder of Rohan again.
"Some revenge least I have," he hissed as he assended the stair.
As Grima came to the doors he found them slightly ajar. He perceived this highly curious. None, save the highest of Saruman's guard were allowed to enter Orthanc and none would be so folly as to leave his door unclosed. Shaking slightly from cold and fury, for bitter still was his mind, he pushed the doors wide and crossed the threshold.
Silence met Grima's ears. The day outside was dull and gloomy though Grima still had to adjust to the welcoming void. All torches burnt low or were dead in the bracket. A slight foreboding arose in his stomach for seldom did Saruman leave his corridors unlit. He may have worked with and served things of darkness and shadow, but was wise to not allow places for them, lest they take stead in his home.
Grima walked slowly down the stone hall. The deafening quiet broken only by the thundering of his steps. Deeply he breathed in his surroundings knowing safety and triumph. Till, as climbing to a higher chamber he caught heed of something foul.
Rotting flesh and stale blood began to fill the air, the stench growing ever stronger as he continued. So overpowering had it become that he lifted his cloak to stopper his gagging. Regretfully he continued, eyes watering, burning from the thickness of death. He met its source, the piled bodies of his master's warriors. More then twenty Uruks lay slain on the stone. Eyes wide he gasped at the site. His head swum with sickness as he came ever closer. Grima was in trouble of falling into unconsciousness, was the strength of the fume. The Uruks lie motionless, days dead. Their ink like blood soaked into the stone, which now would be forever black. Insides, dark and rotting, hung from the clefts in their flesh. Maggots taking their fill on the deathly banquet.
"How?" Grima asked himself reaching his spare hand to the wall to steady his failing body.
His palm met congealed blood not yet dried. Looking at it Grima retched and foolishly took deep breaths to regain composure. From the fume burning his nose and throat he retched again and rushed forward covering his face.
Still amazed Grima was as he fled the slaughter, at the hewn bodies and blood stained surrounds. Long would the scenes of embedded weapons in Uruk armour and the calls of ravens, pecking high windows as to gain entry to have their fill, play forth in his mind. Suddenly Grima was struck dumb and fell to his knees. If this was indeed the servants, what had become of the master?
Gathering himself he ran with all the speed he could muster towards his lord's chamber. Forcibly he threw himself against the throne room doors and was caught at the throat by a cold and deathly strong hand. Grima let out a chocked cry and instinctively raised his bone white hands in a plea for life.
"It's human," he heard a deep voice speak clearly, ringing the walls with a silent joy.
"Thank bloody oath," he heard another reply. "I'm starving. That black stuff'll back you up for days."
Grima perceived footsteps coming in his direction though they seemed faint and distant as his lack of air continued. The grip on his neck tightened.
"Please," he croaked with his last breath "Do I not even know by what name or power I am ended?" Forcibly he was swung around to meet a face that struck fear into his core. A demonic face of terrible power and wrath.
"Angelus," it spoke to him. Again he was swung around, his lungs burning for air. He met another of like demonic face, though with hair like a new winter's snow.
"Spike," Angelus spoke again. "Now your greasiness that you've met us, you can say goodbye as well."
Angelus' grip came to fruition. Grima could expel nor take in air. He feebly grasped at Angelus' wrist to gain relief. His windpipe was being crushed. He could not see. A ringing grew in his ears and whiteness blurred his vision. As though from far off he heard the other speak again, like a harsh summer breeze in aid of torment of the burning sun.
"C'mon Angelus, play nice like. You know they are better fresh and kicking."
"Bah," Angelus spat and threw Grima with all his might into the black marble floor.
Coughing and hoarsely drawing in sweet air, Grima slowly regained his site. He cried in agony clutching his throat only begging for relief. Still he breathed feebly, cast on the floor, no strength to move. Face down he felt the bite of the cold marble. It was broken slightly by a small trickle of warm blood seeping from his brow.
"Mmm. Smell that old boy? Fear, there's nothing like it."
Grima, now with senses back, began to cower, drawing breath quickly. Slowly he raised his head to look upon death. What his gaze met caused great pain in his heart, surpassing physical hurt.
"M.my lord," he stammered. He met the broken figure of Saruman laying on his back on the floor. The wizard's skin drawn tight on his figure though all his being had left him. A splintered bone protruded from the side of his neck and Grima noticed paired puncture wounds surrounding it.
"Master," he cried again, sliding himself towards the lifeless figure. Getting to his knees he stooped over Saruman, looking into his open eyes hazed grey and opaque in death. A single tear slid from his cheek and landed mournfully on the wizard's robes. Not least was the tear for blood now dripped from Grima's brow and he reached to it to stem the flow.
"Aw isn't that sweet," Angelus mocked looking in disgust upon Grima. "If it were possible I'd be all warm and puppy like inside right now." Grima felt great wrath rise inside him, though, he was too clever a snake to let it show, least he too should suffer swift death. Looking forward he saw them again but now they resembled men.
"What are thou that have come to the halls of Saruman the White? How is it that you gained entry here?" Grima found it hard to cloak the bitterness and hatred in his words.
"You know what?" It's the most uncanny thing," Spike smirked thoroughly amused "we got asked that exact same question a couple of days ago, didn't we Angelus."
Angelus gave Grima a stony stare which soon broke into an evil grin
"And look what happened to him," he spoke dryly lowering his eyes to Saruman.
"Then it was you who ended his life?" Grima asked the two.
"Catches on quick this one," Spike joked.
Grima knew in his heart that soon he would share Saruman's fate. If Grima was a master of anything it was truly saving his own devices.
"Then I must thank you," he began feebly raising to his feet, groaning at the aches of his body. Still hoarsely, he began again.
"For Saruman the White was always my tormentor, and forever have I sought release from his grasp. All things I tried but never could I escape the veil of his power." Grima as best he could stooped in a low bow. "For this what you have done, I am forever at your service."
Spike cocked an eyebrow at him and snorted to himself.
"Bullocks, you just had a big cry for him. Bloody sick you nearly made me."
"It was but for my happiness at his demise," Grima returned quickly, fear ever so slightly punctuating his words. "You have my word I am indeed in your service, Lords Angelus and Spike."
Angelus had stood silent but now he walked towards Wormtongue. Grima recoiled at the look of imminent pleasure on Angelus' face.
"Please my lords," Grima begged "I swear it, I am your servant." Angelus had walked to the body of Saruman and knelt to lift his staff from the floor. Surveying it he smiled then turned to Grima with hungry eyes. With a swift movement he swung the staff at Grima. Grima withdrew falling to the floor, hands covering his face, yet, nothing had happened.
"Damn it!" Angelus growled. He turned to Spike who just shrugged.
"Oh well," he conceded and struck Grima in the temple with a mighty blow.
Wormtongue knew blackness and nothing more.
***
Many hours had passed and darkness had fallen when Grima finally awoke, his head stinging as though bitten by wasps. The storm now raged even greater outside, winds howling the great walls of the chamber and raging thunder accompanied the pelting rain. Groggily and extremely weak he looked about the hall which was now bathed in firelight. A sweet song drew his eyes to Spike sitting on the wizard's throne where he drank from a tall flute glass. The contents were thick and lined his upper lip as he withdrew the glass. At first what Grima had thought red wine was indeed blood. Like a withered old man Grima called to him
"My lord?"
Spike, brought quickly from dream harkened to the call
"Bout bloody time, he couldn't have hit you that hard." Spike leapt from the chair and walked to Grima casually stepping over Saruman's body, not even bothering to look down.
"Like your accommodation do you?" Spike asked kindly. Grima moved and the clamour of chains filled the hall. He was shackled by both wrists and ankles, stretched on the wall.
"I am not one for comfort," Grima returned bitterly.
A sudden dizziness took Grima. His head lolled and he let out a groan
"Bit weak are we?" Spike questioned grabbing Grima by his hair and lifting his unfocused gaze to his own. "Wouldn't be surprised," he continued unconcerned "nearly ran you dry we did."
Smiling evilly he let Grima's chin fall back to his chest and took another swig from his glass. Wormtongue now realised that Spike was indeed drinking of him. With great effort he raised his head to observe his wrists above him. Deep cuts were there and his forearms were stained scarlet.
"Those didn't work too well," Spike admitted "so we had to make this one." A chilling cry filled the hall, piercing and horrific. Spike pressed at Grima's stomach where a large gash lay exposed in the side of his wear.
"Oh puck up mate," Spike taunted "could be worse."
He laughed deeply filling his glass again and turned his back on Grima returning to his seat. Grima still moaned as his pain subsided when spike took up his song again.
"What. What is this you sing?" Grima asked faintly. He wanted to be freed but if his questions caused him death he felt that that could be a better end.
"Oh," Spike started, a bit surprised at Grima's ability to speak. "Me mum used to sing it to me. Nice old thing she was," he said reminiscently "till I bit her."
"I do not fear you," Grima spat.
With lightning speed Spike was inches from Grima's face, his own blood filling his senses. Spike smashed his glass on the wall behind Grima and with a shard slowly cut a long tare in Grima's cheek. It took all his power and control not to scream out in pain.
Spike lent in and licked the stream of blood. Grima shuddered at the touch of his tongue. Spike met his eyes again, now displaying his vampiric face. Grima cringed and Spike simply laughed. With an icy voice he spoke a whispered warning to Grima
"You should be afraid."
"What are you?" Grima found himself asking
"Vampire mate," he returned casually "Undead like, demon inside and all. Now then, question times over."
Spike turned again and walked towards the throne. As he got to Saruman and went to step over, grima spoke again
"Why do you keep me here?"
Spike turned to him and grimaced. He reached down and propped Saruman up, his head falling forward. Like an evil ventriloquist he held him and dawning a child like voice grabbed Saruman's chin to make him speak.
"Be a good Worm and listen to Spike. Best be quiet. He knows best. He's a smart one this one."
Taking back his normal voice Spike spoke "Thanks Santa," and gave Saruman a comical kiss on the head before letting his broken form fall back to the floor. Grima expelled air in disgust.
"Why do you leave him there?" Spike surveyed his surroundings and replied simply "Bit of decoration, breaks up all the black see." Spike threw himself back into the chair thoroughly annoyed.
"And where is your friend?"
"Right, that's it!" Spike growled forming his demonic features. He reached beside him and unsheathed a broadsword. With a growl of anger he stood and motioned towards Grima
"He's here," a voice filled the chamber.
Both turned to see Angelus entering through a doorway. Spikes anger was stayed. Angelus was soaked and splattered with mud and dark blood. With him he carried the severed heads of the highest generals in Saruman's army.
"We have control of them now," he spoke to Spike, casting the heads on the floor. Spike beamed.
"Hey," Angelus cried excitedly pointing to Grima "it's awake."
"Yeah," returned Spike unhappily "and he won't bloody shut it. Him and Andrew'd get on well I'd bet."
Angelus sidled to Grima's side. Grima petrified closed his eyes. Another scream echoed the walls.
"Worm being a naughty boy?" Angelus questioned, now digging the dagger in Grima's side further in up to the hilt. Just as quickly Angelus withdrew it, running his finger along the blade, then sucked the blood from his finger.
"I suppose," Angelus started airily "your dirty little mind has been working overtime to figure all this out." He paused, but Wormtongue said nothing. Angelus clenched his teeth and hit Grima across the face. Dangerously he spoke
"Answer when you're spoken to."
"Yes," Grima shouted near to tears of pain and fear. Again, Angelus regaining his airy tones continued.
"You see we came here a few days ago and I can tell you I couldn't be happier. We turned up from a nice little town where I was caged and he," Angelus shot a glance to Spike "was panting for a whore. But now," he laughed "we are free."
Tears streamed Grima's face
"We don't know how we got here but I assure you we are going to stay. Cause we can get a tan now, not like before, and, from what I've learned." Angel paused at his own brilliance "we will rule this Middle-Earth."
Angelus brandishing the dagger looked sternly at Grima
"Now's where you ask how."
"How?" Grima whimpered defeated to his chest
"I'm glad you asked that Worm," Angelus spoke. "As soon as we off'd your man here I got to reading, and it was an interesting read at that. And what I learned is why I have kept you alive. You see, I wanted to tell you myself."
With his last strength Grima looked up.
"Grima my fellow I had to tell you, you were kept alive simply as our appetizer." Angelus grinned more evilly and madly then Grima had seen before "But now." he paused again "Now I can go on for the main course."
Angelus stepped aside and looked to Spike who was leaning on the hilt of the sword. With a welcoming gesture he signalled Wormtongue to Spike.
"Yes!" Spike roared taking up the sword and charging at Grima.
"No wait, please," Gima cried. A final beg for mercy. "I have information that will aid you."
Spike stopped at Angelus' command but not without anger
"C'mon mate let me finish him."
"Wait," Angelus replied "I could enjoy some feeble begging."
Grima composed himself as best he could
"Theoden, a great king of Men abides near here. Lord Saruman sent wild men to attack his lands people. Theoden knows they will assault his city of Edoras." More quickly Grima talked, searching for the crucial piece of information that may save his life.
"He will flee to his great fortress of Helm's Deep. It will be a dangerous road to take through the mountains from Meduseld. It will be slow. They will have woman and children with them."
Angel did not have a look of intrigue about him
"I alone know the secrets of his hall, I alone can help you assail them. Saruman has Wargs and other creatures you may use for your purposes. Without me you will fail."
Angelus lifted his hand
"Very dramatic Worm but I'm not interested in Theoden."
Grima's mouth dropped as Angelus signalled Spike again. Cries of terror and pain above all pain filled the hall as Spike tore into Grima limb by limb until all was silent.
"So," said spike wiping the sprays of scarlet blood from his face "What's the plan? We going for more food or what? It will be just like old times Angelus mate." Spike smiled with excitement "Peasants and wenches and little bits tucked in their beds." Spike shuddered with anticipation. "How I've missed their little screams, calling for mummy as I ate them, not knowing she was dead on the doorstep drained and defiled."
Under his brow Angelus looked to Spike
"No Spike, I'm not interested in the men of this place. Not yet."
With that he stood and left the chamber deep in thought of his plans for the coming day. Spike rather confused simply sat down and took too Grima's torso. A warm drink before he went to bed.