Disclaimer: Not mine. See chapter 1.
"Weary of Orthanc? Very weary at last; but not so weary of his tower as he was weary of my voice. Hoom! I gave him some long tales, or at least what might be thought long in your speech."
-Treebeard to Gandalf, RotK, Many Partings
"I'm bored," announced Wormtongue. He had been trying to scratch out "Gríma wuz here" on the wall for the past hour, only to discover that the walls of Orthanc were impenetrable.
"I am bored as well, for, although we are winning, and in fact have won already except for a few small details, the waiting is tiring."
Saruman was bored as well, but he considered it beneath his dignity to admit it, especially to his underling and the comic-relief Iraqi. It had been five months since his conversation with Gandalf, and he was still a prisoner. The Ents had turned his city, his wonderful city, dedicated to industry and power over nature, into a garden. An accursed garden, complete with a garden gnome. Well, it wasn't so much of a garden gnome as a Goblin that the Ents had captured, dressed in a cute green outfit with a pointy red hat, and tied to a rock. The little garden goblin was quite insane by now, and kept muttering nonsense that sounded like "ecky ecky ecky ecky pikang zoop boing goodem zu owly zhiv ni" to anyone who walked by.
From the former gate of Isengard they had arranged shrubberies, with one set of shrubberies slightly higher than the other set, so there was a two-level effect, with a little path running down the middle. The Ents, who had no experience in gardening, were outdoing themselves in an effort to lure back the Entwives. In addition to shaping hedges like oliphaunts and planting bushes that spelled out "Ents rule, evileyed-blackhanded-bow-legged-flint-hearted-clawfingered-foulbellied-bloodthirsty-orcs drool!", they had arranged pink flowers in the shape of eagles all over the former city. Saruman hoped the Entwives liked tacky.
They were not short on water, because the Ents had created a reflecting pool surrounding his tower. The food supply was adequate, but al-Sahaf wouldn't let them eat any of the salted ham, claiming that it was a food of the infidels, and that bacon was the breakfast of infidels. Saruman sighed. He was desperate enough to listen to Tom Bombadil's poetry for a ticket out of this tower and a pork chop right about now.
"Hoom! Come out to the window, Saruman. I have news for you."
Oh dear Eru, thought Saruman, It's Treebeard. What does that smug, condescending, slow as an Orc learning algebra, horrible excuse for an overgrown Sunflower with a nonexistent sense of style want to tell me this time? Nevertheless, he wanted the news, so he walked to the window.
"Ah, there you are, my former friend. Always so hasty. I think it would be wise of you to learn that patience is a virtue, as the old saying goes. Why, we Ents are never too hasty. Hoom, no. It would be good for you to hear the minutes of our last Entmoot so that you can learn by example how not to be hasty. Hrm, hm," Treebeard cleared his throat, or xylem, or whatever Ents had. "The last Entmoot was called in your language 'The Meeting to Decide Upon the Best Way to Keep Weeds Out of the Gardens, Whether by Leaf Mulch as Suggested by Quickbeam or by Bark Mulch as Suggested by Stronglimb, or Whether by Some Other Method that May be Suggested During the Course of the Entmoot, Including but Not Limited to Training the Garden Goblin to Pick Weeds.' You see, even in naming our meetings we are not hasty. The Ents attending this Entmoot, by their common, Elven, and Entish names were . . ."
Kill me now, thought Saruman, as he started to chew his lip in what might be considered a desperate act of self-cannibalism. He wanted to hear the news from outside, and due to the fact that certain people had lost his palantír, Treebeard was the only way to get this information. He knew from prior experience that if he fell asleep during Treebeard's rambling, the long-winded sadist would start over from the beginning. Behind him, al-Sahaf was singing the Iraqi national anthem. Wormtongue had managed to find some paint, and was in the process of writing "For a good time, call Gandalf" on the wall. The goblin was trying unsuccessfully to beat himself unconscious.
". . . and then the Elf said, 'That's not my ear!' And at the end of that joke, we ended the Entmoot and decided to think about the arguments and meet again later for a final decision. By root and twig, can you believe that? Quickbeam telling a joke during the Entmoot? I tell you, that's the problem with young Ents these days. Hoom, back in my day, we would Shepard our trees to the end of the forest and back, walking uphill both ways in the snow before we would tell a joke at an Entmoot. And we did. You think you are nice and protected in your tower, Saruman, hm, but when I was young I was lucky to find an overhanging rock to shelter me from a storm, and I was grateful for it . . ."
Three hours later, Saruman could feel his brain trying to escape by crawling out his ears. Wormtongue and Muhammed had completed an impressive mural showing Saddam Hussein and Sauron joining hands in victory before a throng of adoring spectators. The garden goblin was repeating "Ni, ni, ni" softly to himself. Treebeard finally got to the news.
". . . and as for the latest happenings, the funeral of King Théoden was very touching. Well, that is all the news for today."
That's it? Three hours of mind-numbing agony for one sentence of news? Saruman wailed aloud in frustration.
"Hoom, I did not know you were so fond of him," quipped Treebeard. The Ent knew perfectly well that he was boring the wizard. Gandalf had even suggested some of the stories to tell. That will teach him not to mess with my trees.
"That's it, you evil pile of kindling," seethed Saruman, "You are going down!"
"What did I tell you about being hasty? You are under siege and your leader is dead. You cannot harm me." Al-Sahaf sprang to Saruman's defense.
"All you tell is lies, lies, and more lies! You are worse than the American press. Now even the Ent command is under siege. Our forces are hitting it from the north, east, south and west. You imprison us here, and we imprison you there. But at the end we are the people who are laying siege to you. And it is not you who are besieging us. I would like to clarify a simple fact here: How can you lay siege to a whole city? Who is really under siege now? Isengard cannot be besieged."
"Then how do you explain the lifting of the darkness over the land, or the fact that no one has come to rescue you? Hoom."
"That is not a reasonable question. I will only answer reasonable questions."
"Hoom, my hasty little friend, I think you must see these things to believe them." He looked at Saruman. The anger had drained from the wizard and he seemed ready to weep. Due to the lack of sunlight, the three tower occupants were paler than albino vampires, and Treebeard was moved with pity. "I think you are unable to do further harm, so I am going to release you."
"You see, my friends? I told you we would triumph," smiled the Iraqi. Dumbfounded and elated, the two natives grabbed supplies and followed al-Sahaf downstairs. Saruman made Gríma give Treebeard the keys on the way out, and the Ent lifted them over the reflecting pool and onto the path.
"Ni!" pleaded the garden goblin. Muhammed stopped.
"We should free this oppressed citiz-," Saruman and Wormtongue grabbed the Iraqi before he could either saddle them with another insane traveling companion or convince Treebeard to rescind his offer. A very forlorn "ni" was heard as the trio left Isengard.
A/N: Technetium was typing at a computer when suddenly the door burst open and three men in fancy red uniforms walked in. "You are under arrest for possession of too much Monty Python trivia with intent to distribute. You are also charged with being unable to write a chapter of more than one thousand words without including Monty Python reference." As they grabbed and dragged away the author, cries of "Come and see the violence inherent in the system! Help, help, I'm bein' repressed!" echoed down the hallway.
I couldn't decide on just one ending, so I am going to write a few alternate endings. In one of these endings, al-Sahaf ends up at the Official Fanfiction University of Middle-Earth (OFUM) as portrayed by Miss Cam in her stories found here www.fanfiction.net/ read.php?storyid=644826 and here www.fanfiction.net/ read.php?storyid=950294 (you'll have to take out the spaces in front of the read part, because ff.net erases hyperlinks). If anyone who is reading this wants to be one of the fangirls or guys in that alternate ending (being aware that you might not be portrayed in the best possible light), send me an email with your name (whatever name you want), species (if you want to be a Hobbit or Elf or something like that, you can), description, and anything else you think is relevant. You probably won't have more than one short mention. I will try to write the chapter so that you don't have to be familiar with OFUM, but it would help. I have Miss Cam's permission (Thank you Miss Cam. You're awesome!) to do this.
Thanks, reviewers!
Smushed Pea – Sorry about your head ;) Thanks for the information. I did some more checking in the book and found out more about dates and what happened to them between Isengard and the Shire, so I have more material to work with.
Me – Thanks! Don't worry about ideas. Just reading reviews encourages me.
Huinesoron – Three cheers for al-Sahaf.
Lady Berenice – Thank you. I know, although personally I think he would be more suited to something in the hearts suite :)
French Pony – Thank you! *beams* The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy is my favorite book ever.
Giantgreenbird – Thanks. I'll try to write a little bit about explaining Islam, but that might be hard to do because I really don't want to make fun of that religion (I'm a Christian, myself).