Chapter 4: The Fall of Saruman
(updated 7/17/2005)
Faith and her squad looked down upon the ruins of Isengard. Keen Slayer eyes spotted what looked to be trees walking through the ruins, destroying the few remaining remnants of the former fortress. All that remained intact was the central tower, which was protected by a tainted version of the power that flowed so pure from Gandalf the White. Something had cleared the way for them, and something told her it was those trees.
"Well, it looks like we don't have to fight anyone today," she commented. "Good thing, too, since we only brought a small party with us."
Indeed, besides the twenty-five Slayers, the group included Aragorn, a group of his rangers who had met them on the road, Théoden and his honor guard, Legolas, Gimli, and Gandalf. Their numbers were sufficient to contain one lonely wizard, but not an army.
"It would appear that Saruman had forgotten what happens when one angers the ents!" laughed Gandalf. "Come, my friends! Let us pay our respects to my old friend and master." It was clear to all that the white wizard was greatly enjoying the failure of his one time comrade.
They rode forward, only to find two very small people manning the ruins of the gate. The Slayers were able to tell that the two were drinking, eating, and smoking as they relaxed upon their lofty perches. There was something about the wee ones that lightened the hearts of the demon killers.
Upon their reaching the broken iron gates, one of the hobbits stood and bowed extravagantly towards them. "Welcome, my lords, to Isengard. We would ask you to excuse the state of things, as we recently had some remodeling work done in here."
Gimli nearly knocked Legolas off of the horse they shared as he shook his fist at the two chortling hobbits. "You rascals!" he growled delightedly, "A merry hunt you have led us on, and now we find you, feasting and… and smoking!" The betrayed whine of the dwarf had nearly everyone trying to hide their smirks and muffle their laughter. Even Legolas, who was looking at the pipe weed in disgust and wrinkling his nose, couldn't help but laugh at the antics of his strange friend.
The second hobbit stood up and cried, "I will have you know that we are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts. Which I think is deserved. On a side note, I found the salted pork particularly good."
That nearly had Gimli drooling, "Salted pork?" he repeated hopefully.
Gandalf just shook his head and playfully swatted at them with his staff, "Trust a Took and a Brandybuck…" he said, bubbling with mirth.
"Hey!" protested the first hobbit, "We are on duty here, I will have you know. We are under orders, from Treebeard, who has graciously taken over the management of Isengard."
"Oh, my goddess!" cried one of the Slayers. "They are so cute! Can I keep one?" Several of her sisters made similar comments.
"Faith, please control your soldiers," Gandalf said, putting an end to the banter. "Now where is Treebeard."
The first hobbit pointed into the vale, chewing on a slice of salted pork that Gimli was eyeing with disturbing intensity. "That way."
The newly arrived party entered into a wrecked and ruined Isengard. An ent soon spotted them and came over.
"Ah, young master Gandalf. I am glad you have come. Wood and water, stock and stone, I can master. But there is a Wizard to manage here, locked in his tower. "
"Any chance we can get him to come down peacefully?" asked Faith of Gandalf.
Gandalf gave her a long look. "Somehow, I think not. Be careful, Faith. Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous. He has lost his army, but yet retains his magics."
"I know that," she replied, "but I am confident than you can outwit him. In my experience, when magic folk go bad, it takes a heavy toll on their minds. Something about being evil makes one arrogant to the point of stupidity."
"Let's just have his head and be done with it," stated Gimli.
Gandalf shook his head and glanced at Théoden and Aragorn. "No, he is not to be killed," declared the wizard. "We need him alive. We need him to talk…"
"Good luck with that," grunted Faith, eyeing the evil wizard peeking out from one of the upper windows of the tower Orthanc. "It doesn't look like he plans on obliging you. For some reason, the bad guys don't like to share information about their little schemes. At least, they will not talk until one applies a serious beating."
"I like her," declared Gandalf suddenly. "Her view of the world is rather refreshing in its clear yet violent nature. Come, my friends! Let us see if Saruman shall receive a… serious beating." Everyone laughed.
Approaching the sleek stone tower of Orthanc, they dismounted. Gandalf banged on the doors with his staff. "Saruman!" he cried, "Come down! Saruman, come forth! Saruman!"
They were kept waiting so Faith walked over and pounded on the door, making it rattle. "Get down here Saruman!" she yelled, "Or else we will come in and drag you out!"
At that, a window above them opened up, "What do you want?" hissed a man Aragorn informed the Slayers was Gríma Wormtongue, former councilor to Théoden king. Aragorn had been supplying them with an abundance of background information during the trip to Isengard.
Éomer, Théoden's nephew and heir, glared at him, "Well, Wormtongue." he called, "I have a matter to discuss with you concerning my uncle and sister. 'Tis gladdening that two such enemies are here, trapped and at our disposal. Go get Saruman, worm, since you threw your lot in with him. And make haste!"
Another figure, swathed in a grey cloak, came to the window. He spoke softly and each of the Slayers felt the hairs on the back of their necks stand up. An enchantment came from his voice, and it settled over all of their party. The enchantment was constructed so that Saruman's voice seemed wise and reasonable, so that it seemed pleasing and honest. "Well? Why must you disturb my rest? Will you give me no peace at all by night or day?" he said, sounding like somebody's aged grandfather.
"Come now," Saruman said, "Are you all here with murder in your eyes? Some of you at least I know by name. Gandalf I know too well to have much hope that he seeks help or counsel here. But you, Théoden King, I am surprised. Why have you come to me, seeking death and destruction? Why have you not come before, and as a friend? And not like now, as an enemy. Will you trust in the evil counsel given to you or will you hearken to one that has always been a most steadfast ally? Is it yet too late to save you from this folly? Despite the injuries that have been done to me, in which the men of Rohan, alas, have some part, still I would save you, and deliver you from the ruin that draws nigh inevitably, if you ride upon this road you have taken. Indeed I alone can aid you now."
Éomer and Théoden stared glassy eyed for a moment, and then shook their heads, even as Gimli waved his axe and shook it at the still smug wizard. "The words of this wizard stand on their heads," he growled, gripping the handle of his axe. "In the language of Orthanc help means ruin, and saving means slaying, that is plain. But we do not come here to beg. But to return the 'favor' you claim to have done for Rohan. I think a meeting with the sharp end of my axe would be beneficial."
"Or perhaps my scythe, master Gimli?" asked Faith. "We could kill him together, if you like."
"Peace!" said Saruman, "I do not speak to you yet, Gimli Glóin's son. Far away is your home and small concerns of yours are the troubles of this land. But it was not my design that you became embroiled in them, and I will not blame such part that you have played - a valiant one, I doubt not. But I pray you; allow me first to speak with the King of Rohan, my neighbor, and once my friend. What have you to say, Éomer King? Will you have peace with me, and all the aid that my knowledge, founded in long years, can bring like your uncle did? Shall we make our counsels together against evil day, and repair our injuries with such good will that our estates both come to fairer flower than ever before?"
None of the males in their party notices when Faith gestured for several of her girls to circle around behind the tower, and away from prying eyes to climb up and in.
Éomer was silent for a long moment, marshalling his composure against his raging temper, "I did not come all this way after a grievous victory to bandy words with an old liar with honey on his forked tongue," he said calmly but strongly, "So would the trapped wolf speak to the hounds, if he could. You claim to give us aid? When you are a dealer in treachery and murder? Remember my cousin Theódred at the Fords! Or do you deny your part in it? Was it perhaps the fault of an army of another wizard named Saruman? Or is the White Hand no longer your sigil? Do not seek to fool me with lies and honey, cretin. I feel nothing but disgust and hate for you."
"If we speak of poisoned tongues, what shall we say of yours, young serpent?" Saruman snarled, his own hold on his temper slipping, "Ever have you poured poison in your uncle's ear, telling lies and falsehoods about me and I have held my tongue against your bile. But come, Éomer, Éomund's son! To every man his part. Valor in arms is yours, and you win high honor thereby. Meddle not in politics too complex for you to understand! A future king must choose his friends with care. The friendship of Saruman and the power of Orthanc cannot be lightly thrown aside, whatever grievances, real or fancied, may lie behind. You have won a battle but not a war – and that with help on which you cannot count on again. You may find the Shadow of the Wood at your own door next; it is wayward and senseless, and has no love for Men."
Éomer's hand slipped to the pommel of his sword as he listened to the words, the mockery underneath the enchantment clear to the future Lord of the Mark, "Will you not listen to your betters and make peace with me? For you do not have the wits to sustain the land of Rohan!"
"We will have peace," Éomer said strongly, seeing through the lies as he always had. "We will have peace, when you and all your works have perished – and the works of your dark master to whom you would deliver us. What will you say of your torches in the Westfold and the children that lie dead there? And they hewed Háma's body before the gates of the Hornburg, after he was dead. We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there. We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged. When you hang from a gibbet from your window for the sport of your own crows, I will have peace with you and Orthanc. Your voice has lost its charm, snake."
Instantly, Saruman's face twisted into an ugly sneer and a cold rage was visible there, "Gibbets and crows!" he hissed at Éomer, "Fool! What is the House of Eorl but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor amongst the dogs? Too long have they escaped the gibbets themselves! But the noose comes, slow in the drawing, tight and hard in the end. Hang if you will! And what do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess... the key of Orthanc or perhaps the keys of Barad-dûr itself, along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards!"
"I am no longer what Gandalf the Grey, whom you betrayed," Gandalf said levelly. "I am Gandalf the White, who has returned from death. You have no color now, and I cast you from the order and from the Council."
"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" cried Faith in a sing-song manner. "You are out of allies, wizard, and it is time to pay for your crimes against these good people!"
"And you think that you can defeat a wizard, little girl?" Saruman said. "Do not think that I do not know what you are. You are a liar, a cheat and a murderer. Is not right? An assassin by trade, and by choice, who kills for the pleasure of it? But you are no threat to me, little girl."
"Your treachery has already cost many lives," called out Gandalf. "Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them, Saruman. You were deep in the Enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know. Redeem yourself."
Saruman scoffed at him, "So you have come here for information. How trite. But I have some for you," he said holding out a palantír, and images swirled around in the bright glass. "The Great Eye presses his advantage while you flounder. His attack will come soon. He has been ready for many a year and now you fall all over yourselves trying to stop the inevitable. You are all going to die. But you know this, do you not, Gandalf? You cannot think that this ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, who has crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king. One of a line that ran away from their duties once before… Exile, hearken to me! Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him… those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort you gave the halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death. You knew it then and you know it now."
His words set all their tempers on edge, and Gimli tried to coax Legolas to shoot him. Gandalf once more tried to talk sense into the wizard. "Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared. I promise you."
"Save your pity and your mercy. I have no use for it!" He raised his staff, and even as he lifted it the Slayers could feel… something… gather strength. Even as it was released, each of the women instinctively blocked it. Fire swirled towards Gandalf, but died before it could reach him. Gandalf raise his own staff, while in another window Gríma hurled the discarded palantír at his rival.
"NO!" Saruman roared at the hapless man.
The wizard seemed to have flown backwards, away from the window. He disappeared from sight. From below, Gandalf tried again to reach him, "Saruman! You were deep in the Enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!" Sighing, he turned away when he received no answer. "His own malice and ambition has poisoned him forever. He would rather hide in his tower than do anything to redeem himself. If he will not aid us, then a prisoner here he must remain."
In the water, the hobbit Aragorn had named Pippin (short for Peregrine Took) moved towards an orange rising from the knee deep water that covered all of Isengard's grounds. Curiosity caused him to pick up the round ball that Gríma had thrown at Gandalf. Even as he tried to get a decent look at it, Gandalf was there to sweep it out of his hands.
With a great boom, the doors to Orthanc tower crashed open. Two Slayers were dragging out the wizard, while a third carried an unconscious Wormtongue over her shoulder and carried Saruman's staff in her hands. They dragged the wizard before Faith, who glared at him in anger. He tried to look confident, but there was a hint of fear deep in his eyes. The Slayers were something he did not understand or recognize.
"Well, well, well… if it isn't the number two big bad," she drawled. "What can you tell us of the Enemy's plans, Saruman?"
"I will tell you nothing, wench!"
"Wrong answer," she replied. The two girls who had captured him held him upright by his arms, while she stepped forward and drove her knee hard up into his manhood. There wasn't a male present who did not wince at her action, except for the wizard himself. He promptly hurled up his latest meal down the front of his robes. "Now, let us try this once again. What can you tell me about the Enemy's plans?"
"I will… tell you… nothing," he panted. Talking now took considerable effort.
"If you keep up with this attitude, wizard, then I am afraid that you are in for a very long day. You were actually quite correct when you named me an assassin. Once upon a time, I myself worked for an evil man. At his command, I struck down innocents. You see, I have very little problem with killing people. Hell, I even participated in my share of torture. Just because I have returned to the side of good, it does not mean that I am above doing what I have to do to stop evil.
"For example… give me his hand," she ordered the Slayer holding his left arm. "How many bones can I break before you tell me what Gandalf wants to know, little wizard? Will you tell him yet?" She read the denial in his eyes, and snapped his little finger back before he could speak. Instead, he screamed. "Ready to talk yet?" He glared at her in pain and hatred, so she snapped the next finger. "Eight more, then I start on your toes."
In the end, the riders of Rohan and their allies had to watch Faith break all his fingers and toes, both arms, and finally one of his shoulders. Eventually, the pain became too great, and he began to babble as fast as possible. Whenever he started to reconsider, she would slap him on the broken shoulder, causing a renewed surge of information.
Once Gandalf was satisfied that he had learned all there was to gain from his former mentor, Faith calmly snapped the prisoner's neck. Gandalf came over and glanced briefly at the dead body laying in the water. "And so it ends," he said, "He had potential to do good, but his own ambition would not let him. And so his time in Middle Earth ends."
"And good riddance," added Gimli.
"Come," Gandalf said, "We have not the time for this. The Enemy moves against us. We know where he will strike, and thus we must gather the riders of Rohan, and make haste to Gondor!"