A/N: While this chapter does quote directly from the books, I messed with
the timeline just a tad. While the city Miletus mentioned in this chapter
is a real city near the Aegean Sea, here it is used for fictional purposes.
Chapter Eighteen: A Jumble of Many Emotions
"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power."
If ever the people of Rohan had thought the company of a wizard, an elf, and a dwarf was odd, nothing was to prepare them for the visions presented to them by some of the oldest beings on Middle Earth and some of the smallest inhabitants in Middle Earth. The elders were the Ents, tree- herders, ageless beings, very similar in looks to the trees they watched grow and took care of. Ents made the eldest of elves look as babes. It was quite entertaining, seeing Legolas, self-confessed obssessor of trees, so much so he was willing to go back into a very tense and angry forest to study them, view an Ent. The King of the Golden Hall and the Riders of Rohan seemed absolutely mystified by hearing the tale of the Ents. The Riders more surprised when they viewed what they dubbed as children, sitting on a set of rocks surrounded by empty plates, stuffed, and smoking on pipes. Little did they know they were hobbits, Merry and Pippin to be exact. Rhiannon was almost ecstatic at seeing them, and yet something seemed drastically different. Ah, well, tales for another time. All of Isengard had been decimated, flooded, burned. The place looked horrible. They were to learn that this was the work of the Ents, in reaction to Saruman's horrid treatment of the trees of Isengard. A reaction by the Ents to the disrespect the orcs had given the forest.
There was some bittersweet justice in seeing Isengard destroyed. This should never have happened, it should not have been allowed to get this out of order. The destruction was a realization in the fact that there was no turning back, that Helm's Deep would be child's play compared to what was next. Rhiannon knew that to maintain a fairly balanced universe, the balance of power of good and evil had to be maintained. All beings had the capabilities to be good or evil within them; that circumstances in their lives led them to which side they would decide to fight for. If they decided to fight at all. Some were content to stay within their own worlds, ignoring the outside. This war was the first of many tests for the race of Men. These battles, their actions during this long ordeal, would decide the future of all. The time of the elves was over, it had not passed, it was as good as gone. The hobbits and dwarves already seemed forgotten among the race of men. The other races had become so far removed from that race, the Men, those that they considered inferior, they did not realize that that race would save them, save their world. All things went in cycles, in great circles. This time, the time leading up to now, was the first phase of the circle. One day, in the very far future, the race of Men would fall to a great evil, and the power of the elves would be restored. Or the power would go to the most powerful beings on the land. Rhiannon had been informed about this for years, mostly from Brhagdan's mother. She had been the only true teacher Rhiannon had, her own mother gone before she could truly help her daughter.
Many thoughts went through Rhiannon's mind as she subconsciously stroked her fingers through the golden-hair of Legolas as he sang softly to himself staring at the sky. At the moment Gandalf, King Theoden and his Riders were in conference with Treebeard. On a pile of rocks, proof of the destruction of Isengard, a curious group sat, smoking the finest pipe weed of the Hobbit's Shire. Two hobbits, a dwarf, the man fated to be king, and a being that was a hybrid of mortal and immortal races of which the closest likeness was the race of Men, all sat together. There was no real talking, they were all relaxing, reflecting on their past few weeks. The hobbits had provided a more than sufficient meal to their new guests. Their tale of adventure was waiting to be told, but first the males, excluding the elf, felt the need to make use of the procured pipeweed.
Legolas glanced up at her, a small smile playing on his face, "I can hardly see the sky through their smoke."
"Yes, well, when they are hacking and gagging as evil things chase your company, you can just hop along without a care in the world."
"I do not hop."
"Fine. Skip along without a care in the world."
"Rhiannon!" Legolas tried to sound indignant but his laughter leaked out, a very musical and out-of-place sound in all the ruins that lay around them. The group on the rocks ignored them, too wrapped up in their own thoughts.
"Are you scared of what the future holds?" Rhiannon asked him softly, no longer looking at him, but out into the horizon.
"I can not control the future, why should I then fear it? What will happen, will happen. The sun will rise the next day and life will continue to go on as it has. A thousand years from now all our acts will be the basis of myths and legends that haunts the race of Men now. They will not understand what we undertook, many elves will forget the smallest acts committed in this time, and the truth will be lost in the artistic license that is often taken when stories are recorded. I will still be living, be it here on Middle Earth or in Aman. You will still be here. Do not worry your mind about what is coming, worry only about what you mean to do in the next hour. As powerful as you may one day be, Rhiannon, you can not change what will inevitably happen to this world. The acts that are now in place have been in motion for many years, you could not and you can not change it."
Rhiannon gave a small smile, recalling a conversation she had had with the elf when they had first met. "I told you, my dear elf, you are wise. You just do not know it." There was still something in the back of her mind that would not let her rest. She knew the worst was yet to come, the tension in the air, in the earth, was tangible. "Legolas, what if the sun does not rise the next morning?"
"Then we shall be guided by moonlight and starlight."
"And if that is not present?"
"Then we shall be guided by the light within us. Now, no more of these thoughts, I wish to hear the rest of the story of how our half ling friends came to be here." He sat up, and lightly caressed her face, pleased when she leaned into his palm, "Rhiannon, do not let these doubts, these fears of yours plague your mind. Enjoy the time you have to rest." He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and stood up, holding out a hand to assist her.
"I can get up myself you know."
"And you can fall right back down when your feet get caught in your skirts."
Rhiannon's mouth fell slightly ajar, "You saw that?"
"Yes, quite clearly. I think you need to have a discussion with your horse, it does not seem to be fond of you. Of course, you are not very fond of it. Either way, you must learn to respect the beautiful creatures that horses are, you can not force yourself on them."
"And you could not have informed me of this back in Edoras because.."
"I was positive you would have learned by now. Up with you, I wish to hear these tales."
Rhiannon huffed and threw her best glare at Legolas, quite disappointed when it only made him smile wider. Stupid, arrogant, sarcastic, elf. Maybe she was more than a tad embarrassed that Legolas had witnessed her mishap when dismounting the horse today. She was positive that only her brother had witnessed that, she should have known that Legolas was watching. However, when one was stumbling to the ground, one did not think about the people watching and more about self-preservation. Legolas gave another small laugh, clearly reading her thoughts,
"I can teach you the basics of archery Rhiannon, maybe I can also instruct you on the basics of Elven grace."
Rhiannon shook her head in an obvious gesture of annoyance, "I will not hesitate to smack you, elf. Do not tempt me."
Legolas raised one of his own dark brows, his smile turned into a smirk that Rhiannon wished to wipe straight off his face." I believe you have made that threat before, and yet have never followed through with your claim."
Rhiannon's expression was blank, making Legolas think she was about to raise her hand to him, and yet in her eyes something else twinkled. Was that..merriment? Not possible, had she gone back to her playful self already?
"I can make good on my claim at this moment, if you wish. However, the day is passing, we do not have much time left, and I wish to hear the tale of the hobbits."
Legolas was confused by Rhiannon's statement, and her apparent need to hide her true feelings. There was mirth in her eyes, and yet so much more. The merriment was being concealed to hide what she truly felt.
"What do you mean that we do not have much time left, Rhiannon? Where do you think you are going? Surely you would not return to your homeland, now, before the task is even completed."
"Of course I am not going home now Legolas, it would be too dangerous. I only meant that we are coming at a parting of ways at the next dawn. You are traveling with Aragorn, wherever he goes, as far as he travels. Gandalf has requested that Brhagdan and I go in an opposite direction at the moment. We are to head back towards Lorien and then towards your own homeland. Gandalf feels that we will be needed there, and so that is where we go. My brother and I would not be assets on your battlefields. If we were to be found by the Race of Men, it would not be taken well. Here, they are not aware of us. We would truly frighten those that live in suspicion of everything, the inhabitants of Minas Tirith; my brother has informed me of such. We make little sense to them, we have the features of Man with the life, the magic, of Elves. We are not easily defined. Most of the inhabitants of Middle Earth, of all the races, are not aware of our world. We are the past, present, and future of all that live on Middle Earth now. We have always known this, we always will. That is why all the races of Middle Earth are represented in my realm, for the reason that they must be carried on somehow, someway. We would cause a great hold up on your travels into the city, and if my brother and I are killed on your battle fields. Well, you would not wish to know the price that must be paid. My family may not be royalty, but when Nature gives her gifts, her magic, she does not care if you are royalty or not. She will give her power to those she feels are most worthy. My brother's mother is a powerful Priestess, she has been my only teacher my whole life, and she is not a female to anger." Rhiannon paused for a moment and shook her head, obviously not wanting to talk anymore about her homeland.
"If this is true, why did you fight at Helm's Deep?" Legolas asked, his curiosity suddenly hunger for more information about her lands, her realm, her people.
"We owed all of you, we have paid our debt. If we die in favor to the people of Middle Earth, there is no reason to be anger. If we, as guests of the realm, are killed after already repaying our debt, anger is provoked. A demand for justice. I do not understand it, I never will. As I have said many times before, now is not the time for such discussion, maybe one day when so many spies do not lurk in the land."
Legolas nodded, their playful mood of moments ago already gone so quickly, he then turned to the group on the rocks, asking to hear the finished tale of the younger hobbits.
***
Rhiannon had to admit the young hobbits had experienced quite an adventure. Escaping orcs, meeting Ents, drinking Ent Draughts, seeing the destruction of Isengard. With all they had experienced, they still maintained their innocence. Of course, this seemed their way of life. Roof over the head, food in the belly, stories around the fireside, that was all that was needed for a good life. She envied them. In truth, she envied all her friends gathered on the rocks that listened to the tale of Merry and Pippin. She still felt this coldness within her, this unrest from Helm's Deep. She still felt fear from the vision that had bothered her nights ago. She wished she could so easily relax. Soon they had decided to go into the actually city of Isengard, toward Orthanc, the now dark wizard Saruman's tower. Gandalf, Theoden, and the Riders were already starting to gather at what one could assume was the base.
There was a power that radiated from the destroyed tower, Rhiannon could feel it tingle along her skin, causing the small hairs on her body to stand on end. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Saruman was a powerful wizard that had just turned down a dark path. However, the Gandalf that last saw Saruman was not the one that returned, now it was a true battle of wills, of power. The magic in the air made Rhiannon heady, and she could tell the same reaction was occurring in Brhagdan as well. They both took subconscious steps back, being taught long ago to be as far away from your temptation as you could. The feeling in the air hinted that something large was about to happen. It scared Rhiannon, badly. Terrified truly; she glanced at her brother, fear also written in the lines of his golden face.
"I have a bad feeling, Rhiannon." He whispered to her. She nodded in agreement,
"And yet, my brother, I do not feel as if it will be that horrible."
"True, you haven't passed out from a vision, always a good sign that something is not beyond horrible. And yet, when all of Miletus was buried by ash from the red-flowing river of lava from a very angry mountain, you saw nothing of it's coming."
Rhiannon graced her brother with a lovely glare, "No one can predict what Mother Nature chooses to happen; least of all me."
Rhiannon and Brhagdan were silenced by the voice of Gandalf, apparently speaking to all now as his voiced was raised, " 'And Saruman has powers you do not guess! Beware his voice!'"
The group moved closer, to the foot of the stairs of the tower of the now dark wizard Saruman. Gandalf was wanting to go up to speak with his once Superior; Theoden was also to accompany him along with Eomer, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. Rhiannon and Brhagdan could not be paid any ransom to ascend those stairs, to see Saruman. They knew better. Gandalf was at the moment banging with his staff on the door. This was until the voice of Wormtongue, the king's former advisor, spoke out, requesting to know what Gandalf wished.
" 'Go and fetch Saruman, since you have become his footman, Grima Wormtongue! And do not waste our time!'"
Gandalf's normally tactic of eloquent language to get what he wished had long since vanished before the company had even set foot within Isengard. She watched her brother in her periphery as he made a movement to cover his ears. Rhiannon understood why as the voice emanated from the tower, one that with the tones presented in it could convince many to do whatever he wished. Rhiannon copied her brother's movement quickly, cupping her ears as tightly as she could. Rhiannon glanced around her, most of King Theoden's men had fallen under the spell of Saruman's voice, his most powerful weapon. A sword may cause a deadly wound, but it can always heal. Words have power that no tangible weapon could every match. However, many soldiers did not realize the power of a voice; a voice backed by thousands of years of living, and knowledge that Men could not even imagine. However, the destruction by the Ents proved that no one with as much power as Saruman, with the ability to persuade, was indestructible. In fact, a mind not captured by the power of Saruman's voice, could clearly judge that being within the company of Gandalf the White was a much more desirable place to stand. The men were entranced and a silence fell among all. Gimli, in his own infinite wisdom, broke the silence and spoke the truest words Rhiannon had heard that day, she lowered her hands to hear him clearly,
" 'In the language of Orthanc help means ruin, and saving means slaying, that is plain.'"
The words of the dwarf seemed to shake Saruman as his voice contained a sort of quiver as he resumed his spell. Rhiannon quickly covered her ears again. Rhiannon could make out the words said by the Chimera in mortal form before her, and yet they were muffled. He truly spoke poison, insulting all and yet doing it in a way that few could pick up on. Rhiannon was disgusted, she knew her opinion would have been different if she could not truly feel the destruction he had caused, if she had not glimpsed him already once in her young life, when he was still on a brighter side. This nonsense went on for sometime, Saruman's spell even managing to make the men of Rohan feel doubt against their king. It wasn't until Saruman insulted Gandalf, not realizing the change that had occurred in his old, and former friend. It was the truest battle of wills that Rhiannon had ever had the chance to witness, knowing she would never see anything like this again. Everyone was silent as Gandalf the White and Saruman, the now fallen wizard, verbally battled, and in the end, Gandalf came out more victorious than Saruman. Saruman was quite surprised that the one that used to seek him out for advice now had more power than he did, had the power to force him out. With that Saruman disappeared crawling back into his sanctuary, defeated with his staff broken.
Rhiannon and Brhagdan locked eyes and both nodded while lowering their hands from their eyes. Something just didn't seem right, at all. Apparently, her uneasiness finally made it's way into the mind of her so- called Soul Mate, whom, throughout this whole ordeal did not seem to realize her fear until now, while he subtly walked over to her.
"What is wrong? You seem ill at ease."
Rhiannon's mantra of "Must not roll eyes, must not roll eyes" continued in her head. "It's just, this can not be all. Saruman could just not turn his back and not take further action. No one has their plans foiled and then takes the insult of one that used to be below him without taking further action. Especially a wizard as prideful as Saruman. It is just not possible."
Brhagdan and Legolas both nodded their agreement. Rhiannon was soon proved correct as what looked like a dark, stormy ball was hurled out of a window in the tower Saruman had spoken from. Gandalf noted to all that the object was thrown by Wormtongue in revenge, not by Saruman who, while crawling back into his tower could not have thrown it. Pippin, curious and helpful hobbit he was, walked over to retrieve the object, while Brhagdan turned to her,
"What is that?"
"I do not know."
"You should." "Why do you say that?"
"You are the one with 'magical' abilities."
"You are the son of a Priestess, why do you not know?"
A third voice came into their argument, "I now know why I am grateful I never had children."
"Be quiet, elf. You have lived over a thousand years, why do you not have an answer for us?" Brhagdan asked.
To that the elf did not have an answer.
Chapter Eighteen: A Jumble of Many Emotions
"Nearly all men can stand adversity, but if you want to test a man's character, give him power."
If ever the people of Rohan had thought the company of a wizard, an elf, and a dwarf was odd, nothing was to prepare them for the visions presented to them by some of the oldest beings on Middle Earth and some of the smallest inhabitants in Middle Earth. The elders were the Ents, tree- herders, ageless beings, very similar in looks to the trees they watched grow and took care of. Ents made the eldest of elves look as babes. It was quite entertaining, seeing Legolas, self-confessed obssessor of trees, so much so he was willing to go back into a very tense and angry forest to study them, view an Ent. The King of the Golden Hall and the Riders of Rohan seemed absolutely mystified by hearing the tale of the Ents. The Riders more surprised when they viewed what they dubbed as children, sitting on a set of rocks surrounded by empty plates, stuffed, and smoking on pipes. Little did they know they were hobbits, Merry and Pippin to be exact. Rhiannon was almost ecstatic at seeing them, and yet something seemed drastically different. Ah, well, tales for another time. All of Isengard had been decimated, flooded, burned. The place looked horrible. They were to learn that this was the work of the Ents, in reaction to Saruman's horrid treatment of the trees of Isengard. A reaction by the Ents to the disrespect the orcs had given the forest.
There was some bittersweet justice in seeing Isengard destroyed. This should never have happened, it should not have been allowed to get this out of order. The destruction was a realization in the fact that there was no turning back, that Helm's Deep would be child's play compared to what was next. Rhiannon knew that to maintain a fairly balanced universe, the balance of power of good and evil had to be maintained. All beings had the capabilities to be good or evil within them; that circumstances in their lives led them to which side they would decide to fight for. If they decided to fight at all. Some were content to stay within their own worlds, ignoring the outside. This war was the first of many tests for the race of Men. These battles, their actions during this long ordeal, would decide the future of all. The time of the elves was over, it had not passed, it was as good as gone. The hobbits and dwarves already seemed forgotten among the race of men. The other races had become so far removed from that race, the Men, those that they considered inferior, they did not realize that that race would save them, save their world. All things went in cycles, in great circles. This time, the time leading up to now, was the first phase of the circle. One day, in the very far future, the race of Men would fall to a great evil, and the power of the elves would be restored. Or the power would go to the most powerful beings on the land. Rhiannon had been informed about this for years, mostly from Brhagdan's mother. She had been the only true teacher Rhiannon had, her own mother gone before she could truly help her daughter.
Many thoughts went through Rhiannon's mind as she subconsciously stroked her fingers through the golden-hair of Legolas as he sang softly to himself staring at the sky. At the moment Gandalf, King Theoden and his Riders were in conference with Treebeard. On a pile of rocks, proof of the destruction of Isengard, a curious group sat, smoking the finest pipe weed of the Hobbit's Shire. Two hobbits, a dwarf, the man fated to be king, and a being that was a hybrid of mortal and immortal races of which the closest likeness was the race of Men, all sat together. There was no real talking, they were all relaxing, reflecting on their past few weeks. The hobbits had provided a more than sufficient meal to their new guests. Their tale of adventure was waiting to be told, but first the males, excluding the elf, felt the need to make use of the procured pipeweed.
Legolas glanced up at her, a small smile playing on his face, "I can hardly see the sky through their smoke."
"Yes, well, when they are hacking and gagging as evil things chase your company, you can just hop along without a care in the world."
"I do not hop."
"Fine. Skip along without a care in the world."
"Rhiannon!" Legolas tried to sound indignant but his laughter leaked out, a very musical and out-of-place sound in all the ruins that lay around them. The group on the rocks ignored them, too wrapped up in their own thoughts.
"Are you scared of what the future holds?" Rhiannon asked him softly, no longer looking at him, but out into the horizon.
"I can not control the future, why should I then fear it? What will happen, will happen. The sun will rise the next day and life will continue to go on as it has. A thousand years from now all our acts will be the basis of myths and legends that haunts the race of Men now. They will not understand what we undertook, many elves will forget the smallest acts committed in this time, and the truth will be lost in the artistic license that is often taken when stories are recorded. I will still be living, be it here on Middle Earth or in Aman. You will still be here. Do not worry your mind about what is coming, worry only about what you mean to do in the next hour. As powerful as you may one day be, Rhiannon, you can not change what will inevitably happen to this world. The acts that are now in place have been in motion for many years, you could not and you can not change it."
Rhiannon gave a small smile, recalling a conversation she had had with the elf when they had first met. "I told you, my dear elf, you are wise. You just do not know it." There was still something in the back of her mind that would not let her rest. She knew the worst was yet to come, the tension in the air, in the earth, was tangible. "Legolas, what if the sun does not rise the next morning?"
"Then we shall be guided by moonlight and starlight."
"And if that is not present?"
"Then we shall be guided by the light within us. Now, no more of these thoughts, I wish to hear the rest of the story of how our half ling friends came to be here." He sat up, and lightly caressed her face, pleased when she leaned into his palm, "Rhiannon, do not let these doubts, these fears of yours plague your mind. Enjoy the time you have to rest." He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and stood up, holding out a hand to assist her.
"I can get up myself you know."
"And you can fall right back down when your feet get caught in your skirts."
Rhiannon's mouth fell slightly ajar, "You saw that?"
"Yes, quite clearly. I think you need to have a discussion with your horse, it does not seem to be fond of you. Of course, you are not very fond of it. Either way, you must learn to respect the beautiful creatures that horses are, you can not force yourself on them."
"And you could not have informed me of this back in Edoras because.."
"I was positive you would have learned by now. Up with you, I wish to hear these tales."
Rhiannon huffed and threw her best glare at Legolas, quite disappointed when it only made him smile wider. Stupid, arrogant, sarcastic, elf. Maybe she was more than a tad embarrassed that Legolas had witnessed her mishap when dismounting the horse today. She was positive that only her brother had witnessed that, she should have known that Legolas was watching. However, when one was stumbling to the ground, one did not think about the people watching and more about self-preservation. Legolas gave another small laugh, clearly reading her thoughts,
"I can teach you the basics of archery Rhiannon, maybe I can also instruct you on the basics of Elven grace."
Rhiannon shook her head in an obvious gesture of annoyance, "I will not hesitate to smack you, elf. Do not tempt me."
Legolas raised one of his own dark brows, his smile turned into a smirk that Rhiannon wished to wipe straight off his face." I believe you have made that threat before, and yet have never followed through with your claim."
Rhiannon's expression was blank, making Legolas think she was about to raise her hand to him, and yet in her eyes something else twinkled. Was that..merriment? Not possible, had she gone back to her playful self already?
"I can make good on my claim at this moment, if you wish. However, the day is passing, we do not have much time left, and I wish to hear the tale of the hobbits."
Legolas was confused by Rhiannon's statement, and her apparent need to hide her true feelings. There was mirth in her eyes, and yet so much more. The merriment was being concealed to hide what she truly felt.
"What do you mean that we do not have much time left, Rhiannon? Where do you think you are going? Surely you would not return to your homeland, now, before the task is even completed."
"Of course I am not going home now Legolas, it would be too dangerous. I only meant that we are coming at a parting of ways at the next dawn. You are traveling with Aragorn, wherever he goes, as far as he travels. Gandalf has requested that Brhagdan and I go in an opposite direction at the moment. We are to head back towards Lorien and then towards your own homeland. Gandalf feels that we will be needed there, and so that is where we go. My brother and I would not be assets on your battlefields. If we were to be found by the Race of Men, it would not be taken well. Here, they are not aware of us. We would truly frighten those that live in suspicion of everything, the inhabitants of Minas Tirith; my brother has informed me of such. We make little sense to them, we have the features of Man with the life, the magic, of Elves. We are not easily defined. Most of the inhabitants of Middle Earth, of all the races, are not aware of our world. We are the past, present, and future of all that live on Middle Earth now. We have always known this, we always will. That is why all the races of Middle Earth are represented in my realm, for the reason that they must be carried on somehow, someway. We would cause a great hold up on your travels into the city, and if my brother and I are killed on your battle fields. Well, you would not wish to know the price that must be paid. My family may not be royalty, but when Nature gives her gifts, her magic, she does not care if you are royalty or not. She will give her power to those she feels are most worthy. My brother's mother is a powerful Priestess, she has been my only teacher my whole life, and she is not a female to anger." Rhiannon paused for a moment and shook her head, obviously not wanting to talk anymore about her homeland.
"If this is true, why did you fight at Helm's Deep?" Legolas asked, his curiosity suddenly hunger for more information about her lands, her realm, her people.
"We owed all of you, we have paid our debt. If we die in favor to the people of Middle Earth, there is no reason to be anger. If we, as guests of the realm, are killed after already repaying our debt, anger is provoked. A demand for justice. I do not understand it, I never will. As I have said many times before, now is not the time for such discussion, maybe one day when so many spies do not lurk in the land."
Legolas nodded, their playful mood of moments ago already gone so quickly, he then turned to the group on the rocks, asking to hear the finished tale of the younger hobbits.
***
Rhiannon had to admit the young hobbits had experienced quite an adventure. Escaping orcs, meeting Ents, drinking Ent Draughts, seeing the destruction of Isengard. With all they had experienced, they still maintained their innocence. Of course, this seemed their way of life. Roof over the head, food in the belly, stories around the fireside, that was all that was needed for a good life. She envied them. In truth, she envied all her friends gathered on the rocks that listened to the tale of Merry and Pippin. She still felt this coldness within her, this unrest from Helm's Deep. She still felt fear from the vision that had bothered her nights ago. She wished she could so easily relax. Soon they had decided to go into the actually city of Isengard, toward Orthanc, the now dark wizard Saruman's tower. Gandalf, Theoden, and the Riders were already starting to gather at what one could assume was the base.
There was a power that radiated from the destroyed tower, Rhiannon could feel it tingle along her skin, causing the small hairs on her body to stand on end. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Saruman was a powerful wizard that had just turned down a dark path. However, the Gandalf that last saw Saruman was not the one that returned, now it was a true battle of wills, of power. The magic in the air made Rhiannon heady, and she could tell the same reaction was occurring in Brhagdan as well. They both took subconscious steps back, being taught long ago to be as far away from your temptation as you could. The feeling in the air hinted that something large was about to happen. It scared Rhiannon, badly. Terrified truly; she glanced at her brother, fear also written in the lines of his golden face.
"I have a bad feeling, Rhiannon." He whispered to her. She nodded in agreement,
"And yet, my brother, I do not feel as if it will be that horrible."
"True, you haven't passed out from a vision, always a good sign that something is not beyond horrible. And yet, when all of Miletus was buried by ash from the red-flowing river of lava from a very angry mountain, you saw nothing of it's coming."
Rhiannon graced her brother with a lovely glare, "No one can predict what Mother Nature chooses to happen; least of all me."
Rhiannon and Brhagdan were silenced by the voice of Gandalf, apparently speaking to all now as his voiced was raised, " 'And Saruman has powers you do not guess! Beware his voice!'"
The group moved closer, to the foot of the stairs of the tower of the now dark wizard Saruman. Gandalf was wanting to go up to speak with his once Superior; Theoden was also to accompany him along with Eomer, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli. Rhiannon and Brhagdan could not be paid any ransom to ascend those stairs, to see Saruman. They knew better. Gandalf was at the moment banging with his staff on the door. This was until the voice of Wormtongue, the king's former advisor, spoke out, requesting to know what Gandalf wished.
" 'Go and fetch Saruman, since you have become his footman, Grima Wormtongue! And do not waste our time!'"
Gandalf's normally tactic of eloquent language to get what he wished had long since vanished before the company had even set foot within Isengard. She watched her brother in her periphery as he made a movement to cover his ears. Rhiannon understood why as the voice emanated from the tower, one that with the tones presented in it could convince many to do whatever he wished. Rhiannon copied her brother's movement quickly, cupping her ears as tightly as she could. Rhiannon glanced around her, most of King Theoden's men had fallen under the spell of Saruman's voice, his most powerful weapon. A sword may cause a deadly wound, but it can always heal. Words have power that no tangible weapon could every match. However, many soldiers did not realize the power of a voice; a voice backed by thousands of years of living, and knowledge that Men could not even imagine. However, the destruction by the Ents proved that no one with as much power as Saruman, with the ability to persuade, was indestructible. In fact, a mind not captured by the power of Saruman's voice, could clearly judge that being within the company of Gandalf the White was a much more desirable place to stand. The men were entranced and a silence fell among all. Gimli, in his own infinite wisdom, broke the silence and spoke the truest words Rhiannon had heard that day, she lowered her hands to hear him clearly,
" 'In the language of Orthanc help means ruin, and saving means slaying, that is plain.'"
The words of the dwarf seemed to shake Saruman as his voice contained a sort of quiver as he resumed his spell. Rhiannon quickly covered her ears again. Rhiannon could make out the words said by the Chimera in mortal form before her, and yet they were muffled. He truly spoke poison, insulting all and yet doing it in a way that few could pick up on. Rhiannon was disgusted, she knew her opinion would have been different if she could not truly feel the destruction he had caused, if she had not glimpsed him already once in her young life, when he was still on a brighter side. This nonsense went on for sometime, Saruman's spell even managing to make the men of Rohan feel doubt against their king. It wasn't until Saruman insulted Gandalf, not realizing the change that had occurred in his old, and former friend. It was the truest battle of wills that Rhiannon had ever had the chance to witness, knowing she would never see anything like this again. Everyone was silent as Gandalf the White and Saruman, the now fallen wizard, verbally battled, and in the end, Gandalf came out more victorious than Saruman. Saruman was quite surprised that the one that used to seek him out for advice now had more power than he did, had the power to force him out. With that Saruman disappeared crawling back into his sanctuary, defeated with his staff broken.
Rhiannon and Brhagdan locked eyes and both nodded while lowering their hands from their eyes. Something just didn't seem right, at all. Apparently, her uneasiness finally made it's way into the mind of her so- called Soul Mate, whom, throughout this whole ordeal did not seem to realize her fear until now, while he subtly walked over to her.
"What is wrong? You seem ill at ease."
Rhiannon's mantra of "Must not roll eyes, must not roll eyes" continued in her head. "It's just, this can not be all. Saruman could just not turn his back and not take further action. No one has their plans foiled and then takes the insult of one that used to be below him without taking further action. Especially a wizard as prideful as Saruman. It is just not possible."
Brhagdan and Legolas both nodded their agreement. Rhiannon was soon proved correct as what looked like a dark, stormy ball was hurled out of a window in the tower Saruman had spoken from. Gandalf noted to all that the object was thrown by Wormtongue in revenge, not by Saruman who, while crawling back into his tower could not have thrown it. Pippin, curious and helpful hobbit he was, walked over to retrieve the object, while Brhagdan turned to her,
"What is that?"
"I do not know."
"You should." "Why do you say that?"
"You are the one with 'magical' abilities."
"You are the son of a Priestess, why do you not know?"
A third voice came into their argument, "I now know why I am grateful I never had children."
"Be quiet, elf. You have lived over a thousand years, why do you not have an answer for us?" Brhagdan asked.
To that the elf did not have an answer.