Chapter 9

Saruman of Many Colours

He was dragged down the black corridor, every fibre of his body screaming out in protest. Walls, floor and ceiling were made of a stone as dark as night and as smooth as a river worn pebble. Many doors branched off leading to rooms full of papers, books and strange instruments which Merry couldn't, nor wanted to, guess the use of. He desperately tried to use his legs so that the pain would be lessened and to try and prove his determination, but they would simply not support him and left him to collapse back to the ground exhausted by the effort.

Finally, they came to a huge door which barred their way. The Uruk raised its fist and knocked before entering. Even as he was being hauled along, Merry wondered at how unnatural it look for an Orc to show any kind of politeness. Saruman must be one to be feared for these creatures to show him manners such as these. The hinges swung open silently and Merry was dumped just beyond them. The Orc left, closing the door behind it.

Slowly, painfully Merry raised his head, to take stock of his surroundings. The room was made of the same black stone as the rest of the tower. Looking up, he could make out no ceiling no matter how much he strained his eyes. In the centre of the floor was a pedestal with a black orb atop it. Something about the ball grasped and held his attention steadily. He was so entranced by its perfect roundness and the light that seemed to twist in and out of clouds deep inside of it that he momentarily almost forgot his plight.

"The Palantír of Orthanc sees far. It has shown many things to me that I would not have one so innocent as you to pay witness to."

Merry tore his gaze from the orb and locked it into an old, wizened face. He had to bite his tongue to stop himself almost crying out in shock. On the opposite side of the room, in a colossal throne, sat a wizard so similar to Gandalf in appearance it was disconcerting. True, Saruman was dressed all in white and wore no hat, but something about the voice and lined face implied a family connection between the two. He had heard Gandalf say that they looked a little similar, but he had not been prepared for this. They were so alike and unalike at the same time.

"I have seen the lands of Middle-earth torn apart by Sauron's Orcs; the Shire laid to waste by half men corrupted by the Dark Lord. The world of men, hobbits, elves and dwarves all destroyed by the return of the Necromancer. All of these things will surely happen if the enemy regains the Ring." The wizard's words stung Merry to the core. He fought to keep his face empty of any emotion, but it was hard when confusion pressed in so heavily on him. "Will you not help me prevent such things from happening? Will you not tell me where the Ring lies hidden? I will provide such a sanctuary that Sauron shall never discover or penetrate." Saruman's voice was silkily persuasive and very pleasant to listen to. To his horror Merry felt a rising fondness for the voice and realised he was starting to think that all it said seemed wise and sensible. It took enormous strength of will to squash such feelings and to keep in the front of his mind all the pain he had been caused by the man.

He did not move or speak in answer but concentrated on desperately keeping the fear out of his eyes that he felt building in his heart. The wizard's voice alone was deadly and he would have to keep his guard up to resist it.

"Come, my friend, you must tell me. You must see that it is the only way to keep the world from darkness. Reveal its whereabouts to me and we shall help rebuild this age to its former glory. I say we for we it must be. Your people shall be richly rewarded too. The Shire shall be extended west to the Grey Havens and south thirty leagues. Eriador itself shall be yours to govern and control. My friend, you must help me."

Swallowing hard, Merry fought down all thoughts of agreement that were still trying to capture his mind. Anger was also growing and he could not hold back his own words any longer. "Saruman, your attempts at negotiation are futile and your false hand of friendship is sickening. Thanks to your witchcraft I have lost two friends as close as brothers to me, I have gone to the point of death and back again, I have been severely beaten by your own Orcs and am still starved and thirsty. The Shire does not need extending and nor do I wish for responsibility such as the rule of Eriador would bring; so do not try arguments of that nature either. As for you wanting to rebuild the world with the Ring? Ha!! I am not a simpleton. Even I, the least important creature on earth, know you are sworn to Sauron's allegiance and seek only to trick knowledge, I do not posses, from me for your own devices. Your words stand on their head so that help means ruin and saving means slaying!"

Peace! Be silent!" For an instant Saruman's cloak of benevolence slipped and fury burned in his dark eyes. Quickly, though, he pulled himself together and returned to his act, his face as calm as if no anger had ever crossed it. "Your ears have been subject to the poisons of Gandalf Stormcrow I see. You are young and brave master Halfling, but you have been deceived. I am not an ally of Sauron, but a friend of the free peoples of Middle-earth. I wish only to help..."

"Shut up! Shut up! You are a liar and a coward Saruman of Many Colours. Like white light your allegiances have been long split and you have committed double treachery to both the peoples of Middle-earth you claim to support and the dark tower. I know all this as fact and not as a pilgrims tale, so do not waste my time further by repeating lies."

"Such big sentences for one so small and insignificant! You know not of what you speak hobbit and nothing but ignorance escapes your mouth." Anger was now irrepressible in Saruman's features.

"In the same way, nothing but false promises and treachery escapes yours!" Merry's will was set and only death would break it. He would resist this man to his last breath.

"You leave me no choice. I have offered you a hand of friendship and you have spat at it. If you will not give me your assistance then I must force it from you. You leave me no other choice."

At these words Merry felt something touch the corners of his mind and instantly tensed, pushing it away. The force of the resistance that he met was so phenomenal it sent him flying backward. He writhed in agony. Saruman was trying to break into his mind, shoving and slashing at his bruised brain so ferociously that he could hardly stay conscience. He thought his head would explode with the pain, but he fought back with all his might.

Suddenly, the pain released him and he lay panting on the floor staring up at the invisible ceiling. Saruman still sat in his chair, but a look of vindictive pleasure creased his face. "Didn't you like that, young one? Perhaps a little more will help you come to your senses."

This time the force was so great Merry was slammed against the wall and he realised Saruman had only been playing with him before. His mouth stretched in a silent scream and he could feel the wizard trying to hack into his thought. He still resisted, still pushed back with all his strength. Words echoed in his head "My Orcs have gone to war and will destroy all your friends at Helm's Deep. Resistance is futile. Give up now and tell me what I want to know. You know that you cannot fight for long. Give up and save yourself this pain."

"NO!" He flung the yell out of his mouth. Pain ceased again and he was dropped to the floor. Merry closed his eyes trying to focus all his energy on reinforcing his mind. He push Legolas and Pippin to the front of his mind and pushed Frodo to the back so that if he did fail Saruman would take longer to find that thought.

Even as the next wave of anguish smashed into him he knew he could not keep up this fight forever. He was drained and weaker than he had ever been before in his life. A few more minutes of this and he would probably die of exhaustion anyway. No he could not die. Not yet. Pippin had said he was coming and his cousin had never broken a promise in his life. He would not let a little thing like death stand in his way now. So, even as he thrashed about on the hard stone floor, whacking his own head inadvertently onto the wall, Merry clung to hope.

Pain came again and again and each time the gap became smaller and smaller. Merry was losing. He was fading, his mind almost out of his own control, but his stubborn hobbitness deep down refused to give up. The torture and he were now one. He could no longer find a single part of his body that was not plagued by bone-shattering agony. "Pippin, please hurry!!" The ear piercing scream flew from him, echoing off all the walls. Saruman's evil laughter filled him and he let go.

ooo

Outside the walls of Orthanc the plea for help reached the ears of every Ent and hobbit; each of them quivering with anticipation for battle. As one they moved forward, with a cry to wake the dead, and the destruction of Isengard began.