DISCLAIMER – I don't own any of Tolkien's characters or Middle Earth place names etc

In what seemed a ludicrously short time the room was empty. Ylfronir and Druluk stood at one end of the cavernous armoury. Druluk looked dazed. Ylfronir was both terrified and exhilarated. He was having extreme difficulty maintaining a clear train of thought, but one idea was fighting for his attention. The rest of the vast confusion of notions whirling around his brain could wait, but why had Druluk elected to stay? He was pretty sure he knew.

'Are you going to give up your knife?'

'What?' Druluk looked at Ylfronir in confusion, as if he had forgotten that he was there.

'It's a weapon, isn't it?'

'It's more of a tool.'

'Oh, right.'

Druluk didn't seem to register the sarcasm

'Well, my bow's got some sentimental value, and this knife, well, you can't complain about that, and…'

Druluk clearly wasn't listening. Ylfronir tried another tactic

'Mind you, you'll need your knife, where you're going.' That got his attention alright.

'What do you mean?'

'You know what I mean. You're going to kill Saruman, aren't you? After your speech about non violence and everything. Hypocrisy doesn't cover it, this is beyond hypocrisy, this is….'

Druluk started walking away

'You're going to die, you know that?'

Ylfronir overtook the orc and stood in the doorway, blocking his path

'Did you hear me, I said did you know that you are going to die?'

Drulk tried to duck under Ylfronir's arm, but the elf shoved him back into the armoury

'You're going to die, and who's going to lead those orcs to safety?'

'Jorrig'

'Jorrig will wait for your orders. He'll wait, and wait, and wait, and the Ents will appear on the horizon, and he'll wait some more, and those orcs will be wiped out, and that will be the end.'

'They're not stupid.'

'Oh, right, yeah, in one speech you've taught them to think for themselves?'

'They know how to think for themselves.'

'But they haven't realised it yet! And they won't realise it without your help!'

Ylfronir resented being the one who sounded desperate. Druluk's calm expression exuded reasonableness.

'Let me past.'

'No.'

'Let me past.'

'Do you think I orchestrated this whole thing, this meeting, as some sort of elaborate obstacle to stop you killing Saruman? Nothing was further from my mind! But I thought that if you could raise a mutiny then you'd stand a much better chance of success. I knew you had all that righteous anger going on, I thought you'd be able to persuade them round to joining you. But when you started making that speech, hey, you even had me fooled into thinking you had principles, that you had a vision of a future for your people unmarred by violence. But now it seems that that was pure fabrication – a means to get rid of those orcs so that you could continue with your personal vendetta…'

'...Yes it's personal!' shouted Druluk, 'and it has nothing to do with you!'

He seized a long sword from where some orc or Uruk had dropped it on the floor.

'So I have no principles? Then this won't surprise you in the slightest, bloodthirsty orc that I am!'

Druluk swung the blade up in a crooked circle, aiming at the elf's throat. At the last moment, Ylfronir ducked to one side, and it smashed into the doorpost. Druluk seized this opportunity to force his way past, dropping the sword as he ran.

Cursing, Ylfronir chased after him

'At least keep your promise to me!' he shouted desperately,

'See me to the borders of Isengard before you do it!'

Druluk didn't even turn round.

The orc ran faster than Ylfronir had expected, but he couldn't outrun an elf. Still, Ylfronir held back. He didn't quite know what he'd do if he caught up with Druluk, so thought it better just to keep the orc in sight while he considered what to do next. They ran along passageway after passageway, and Ylfronir began to wonder whether even Druluk knew where he was heading. This all might be a ploy to throw him off the trail. He quickened his pace and narrowed the gap between them.

In all the stone tunnels they ran through, they saw no orcs or Uruk hai. They passed entrances to larger rooms, in which Ylfronir caught glimpses of scraps of bedding, these must be dormitories like the one he had stayed in. He wondered at the sheer enormity of this underground domain…and shivered slightly at the thought of the size of the army which right now might be engaging in a bloody battle with the men of Rohan.

Up ahead, Druluk's pace had slowed. They had been running flat out for some time, surely he would be worn out by now. But for some reason the orc was staring at the ceiling. Eventually he stopped dead. Ylfronir jogged over

'What's up there?'

'Orthanc' answered Druluk, brusquely

As Ylfronir tilted his head to look at the roof of the passage, a mere 6 or 7 inches above his scalp, he saw the edges of a trapdoor.

Druluk jumped, stretching his arm above his head. His fingertips just grazed the trapdoor's surface. Ylfronir raised his arm, and braced it against the door. It gave slightly. He opened it a little way, and Druluk gasped excitedly, then he let it slam shut.

'I'll make you a deal,' he said, looking down at the orc.

'I'll help you get through there if you help me climb up after you.'

'What, you reckon you'll be able to persuade me better when we're up there?'

'No.'

Druluk waited, questioningly,

I'm going to help you.'

'Why?'

'Because with my help there's a chance….just a chance, mind you, that this won't be in vain.'

'OK.'

'OK? OK?' fumed Ylfronir silently to himself, as he knelt under the now open trapdoor, Druluk using his shoulders as stepping stones. Sudden, agonising pressure on one… then it was released, as the orc scrambled into the room above.

'There's a rope ladder here!' he called, 'I'll let it down for you.'

'Thanks,' said Ylfronir, scowling at the wall. What the hell had come over him? What on Middle Earth was he doing in this hole in the first place? Why hadn't he made his escape with the others…

…something heavy thwacked against his head. He staggered to one side, slightly stunned…

'Oh, sorry, did I get you?'

Druluk's head appeared over the edge of the trapdoor, a picture of concern. Ylfronir gave him his most icy glare, then seized the slightly slimy ropes of the ladder and hauled himself up.

..................

Druluk knew every inch of the various floors of the Tower which lay beneath the ground, and every twisting stairwell which linked them. He led Ylfronir confidently across the libraries where he had spent so much of his life, with barely a glance at the contents, but the elf was clearly fascinated. Every so often he would pause to examine some scroll covered in elven script, and Druluk would deliberately start walking faster.

'I hope this doesn't get burnt or flooded,' said Ylfronir, tucking the latest scroll he had looked at into his belt. 'I don't imagine the Ents are going to think much of all this paper…'

'I don't care.'

'But you said that you'd read Orc history. There must be some of that down here…'

'Oh, there is.'

'And don't you want to learn more?'

'I know enough.'

Ylfronir fell silent at last, but now Druluk felt compelled to speak

'I know, for instance, that Orcs are supposed to be elves. That long ago, people like you were enslaved, tortured, brutalised into people like us. I expect you've heard the story. That little 'ties of blood' phrase you threw into your speech…'

'I'm sorry…'

'For the speech? Or for what happened? Because,' he said, plunging on without waiting for Ylfronir to reply, 'you know what? It didn't happen. We aren't some sort of twisted mockery of elvishness, we aren't bitter and resentful of what you have, because we have lives and history of our own. Enslaved, yes. Tortured, yes, but that doesn't define us right down to the way we look! Except that people like Saruman try to make us think it does. And people like Saruman write the history books. Do you think you know what beauty is, Ylfronir?'

Ylfronir opened his mouth, and then seemed to reconsider. Eventually he answered 'Democracy…'

'That's one kind of beauty, yes, but you know what I'm talking about.'

'I...'

'Beauty is all well and good when it's firmly held in the eye of the beholder. But it's when people start using beauty as some kind of yard stick by which to judge right from wrong – fair from foul – that you've got to start worrying.'

'But beauty is, as you just said, up to an individual to define…'

'Should be. But is? Come on Ylfronir, don't kid yourself.'

They continued for a while in thoughtful silence. Whatever he had said to Ylfronir, Druluk did feel some regret that these vast stockpiles of information, whether fact or fiction, wise words or incoherent ramblings, would probably be lost forever. But that was just a niggling concern at the back of his mind. There were far more important things to focus on. He still didn't have a plan, as such, though he hardly even admitted that to himself, and wasn't about to ask Ylfronir for suggestions. The presence of the elf was worrying him too – partly because he was still not quite sure what his motives were – it was quite possible that Ylfronir was planning to overpower him and get him to safety out of some misguided sense of duty. And if Ylfronir was genuinely going to help him then it was quite possible that the elf was going to die, almost certain in fact. And this was making him feel guilty.

They had reached the top level of the vaults. Above them, reached by a single staircase, was the ground floor. Here they were bound to encounter guards. Glancing at Ylfronir, he saw the elf's eyes were closed, and he had the same look of intense concentration he had worn when listening for the Riders of Rohan on that fateful night by the outskirts of Fangorn Forest. Druluk waited patiently until Ylfronir's eyes snapped open.

'I can't hear anything. Something might be deadening the sound, but I don't think there's anyone above us.'

'Let's hope you're right.'

Druluk began to ascend the stairs, knife in hand. Behind him he was aware of Ylfronir setting an arrow to his bow. As he reached the top step, Druluk had a sudden sense of dread – not in anticipation of seeing Saruman once more, he had thought about that long enough and his feelings in that department had gone somewhere beyond white hot anger to a numb region at the other side, but at the realisation that he might have to kill an Orc or Uruk Hai. Why hadn't he considered this before? Of course the guards would be orcs. Idiot! He considered asking Ylfronir to go first, and hated himself for it. He was at the top step now, Ylfronir close behind, he could hear the elf breathing. Druluk gritted his teeth and shoved at the door.

It gave more easily than he had anticipated, and he stepped forward awkwardly onto a polished stone floor. The air was cool, the room was quiet. Druluk spun round, craning his neck desperately, but saw no guards anywhere.

'They must have gone to man the defences further out,' he said, expecting his voice to echo, but it was just swallowed up by the vast, high ceilinged chamber which formed the entrance hall to Orthanc. 'Saruman's going to regret that…'

Ylfronir didn't reply, he was listening again.

'It's definitely the Ents who are attacking Isengard,' he said after a moment. 'But from what I can hear they haven't got too near the Tower yet. There's a lot of activity off to that side,' he gestured towards the North, 'lots of crashing, and rushing water…'

'The dam!' exclaimed Druluk 'They'll flood the whole valley!'

'Can the underground tunnels and chambers be sealed off?'

'No…I just hope Jorrig's got out…'

'He'll have got out…'

It was meaningless of course, but Druluk was vaguely comforted to hear Ylfronir say that. He strode towards the stairwell which led to the upper storeys. Saruman was bound to be observing the battle from the roof.

They climbed the stairs as quickly and silently as they could. Ylfronir was making so little noise that Druluk kept turning round to check he was still behind him. At every floor they paused, crouching in a shadowy corner, so that Ylfronir could listen out for danger, or for their goal. But they met no guards, and there was no sign of Saruman.

As they reached the twelfth floor, however, Ylfronir held up a hand and Druluk paused, expectantly. When the elf opened his eyes, he pointed simply upwards. Druluk raised his eyebrows in a question which he already knew the answer to, and Ylfronir nodded confirmation. As Druluk moved towards the staircase to level thirteen – not the roof, but if Saruman was anything he was unpredictable – the elf grabbed his shoulder to restrain him. Druluk turned, and met Ylfronir's gaze. He owed him this much, to pay attention to this last effort at detention. And he owed him something else as well.

'Go,' he mouthed silently. 'I can take it from here…'

The elf shook his head, and released his grip on Druluk's arm.

The stone was freezing cold, and the sweat on Druluk's palms made it feel like melting ice as he pressed himself against the wall. On this level, the stairwell was walled in, and there was a small landing with a narrow archway which led to the main chamber. Druluk had crept over to the edge of this doorway, and was trying to get into a position where he could see into the room. Ylfronir had chosen to stand beside the opposite half of the archway. The split second when the elf had darted across the opening to reach the other side had almost given Druluk a heart attack.

Edging sideways, a fraction of a millimetre at a time, Druluk manoeuvred his head so that one eye had a view past the stonework. And there he was. Saruman. Standing, thankfully, with his back to the archway, clad in an almost blindingly white cloak. The wizard was apparently enthralled by something visible through a slit shaped window in the tower wall – no doubt the battle raging below. Druluk inched his hand down to his belt, and closed his shaking fingers around the handle of his knife…

'Master,'

What was this? A voice Druluk had never heard before – someone else was in the room with Saruman…

'Master, what are your orders?'

A second figure came into Druluk's line of sight. But it wasn't the orc or Uruk he was expecting, it was a thin, stooping, pale faced man who cowered slightly as he got closer to the wizard.

'The Ents have almost breached the dam, master…all but a hundred or so orcs have fled.'

The wizard made no reply

'Master, perhaps now would be a good time to smite the Ents down? You could summon up a lightning storm, or…'

'Silence'

Now Saruman turned, to glare at his unfortunate minion, and Druluk saw the wizard's face

'Master, I…'

Saruman struck the grovelling figure with the back of his right hand. The blow was feeble, even Druluk, peering at the scene through half an eye could see that. But the man sprang backwards, then lay prone upon the floor, clutching at the side of his face as if in agony.

Druluk glanced over at Ylfronir. The elf's eyes were fearful, and he mouthed something. Druluk couldn't make it out exactly, but from the elf's expression it was probably something along the lines of

'What devilry is this?'

Druluk simply shook his head. This was not magic, this was force of personality. As he had known instinctively ever since he had read that evil parchment. Why breed an army if you can control the very elements themselves? Why sit here now letting the defences crumble if you could make the ground open up and swallow your attackers? Saruman may be a master conjuror, adept at sleight of hand and suggestion but his powers ran no further. He was a mortal. He would bleed.

Druluk tightened his grip on the knife handle. Why not move now, get it over with? He imagined the next few seconds as if watching them through Ylfronir's eyes. He saw himself lunging forward into the room, stumbling slightly on stiff legs, knife held high as he made for the white clad wizard. He saw the other man scrambling to his feet, making as if to block his path…Druluk would shove the misguided fool to one side, reach Saruman…and the knife would come slashing down…Blood would spatter the white cloak…His hands would once again be sticky with it…He would sink to his knees just like in that fateful woodland, and his fingers would slowly uncurl from the knife handle…

…it clattered to the floor. The stone floor of the passage where he still stood. Saruman spun on his heel and stared at the doorway

'Who's there?'

His mind reeling with fear, Druluk drew further back into the shadows and looked over to Ylfronir…who had drawn his bow without a sound. The elf met his gaze and raised his eyebrows questioningly.

'Who's there?' Saruman started moving towards them.

Druluk looked at the elf for one more anguished second…then nodded. Ylfronir leapt across the doorway, letting an arrow fly into the room, then grabbed Druluk's arm and dragged him off down the corridor. Behind them Druluk heard a hoarse cry of pain, then

'Master! I…'

'After them, idiot…' Saruman's voice was strained as though he were talking through clenched teeth, 'I'll live…'

But Druluk heard no more. Ylfronir grabbed him round the waist, swung him over his shoulder before he had time to protest, and sprinted down the stone stairs of the tower of Orthanc faster than the orc would have thought possible.