Saruman's Great Escape
A/N: Ever wonder just how Saruman and Grima gave the Ents the slip? Yeah, me too.
Warning: Obviously this will not be pure canon, but I promise that none of the characters will be assraped by wargs, orcs, spiders, orany other canon charactersand decide that it is 'twu lub'. Surely that alone should make it worth the read? Well, let me know what you think.
Chapter 1
Saruman had been horrified when Grima had hurled the Palantir out the window of the tower. If the imbecilic twit had actually managed to brain Theodred or that meddling tree-hugger Gandalf with the orb, it might have been worth the loss. Well, perhaps not, as he would still have been imprisoned in his tower with naught but the sniveling of a broken puppet for distraction from his thoughts.
If only he still possessed the Palantir, Saruman could at least observe events happening beyond the tree line. Perhaps he could discover some weakness that could be exploited. If that rag-tag band of humans, elves, and halflings somehow managed to defeat the might of Sauron, and that was an exceedingly large 'if', there would be legions of leaderless minions just looking for someone to order them about. He could reunite them under his banner and teach those who had dared to oppose him the error of their ways.
As it was, he was cut off, unable to see or shape the direction of Middle Earth. It rankled the wizard almost as much as the stripping of his sorcery had. He could still sense the flow of magic, but could handle only the barest trickle of the power he had once commanded.
Yet even the smallest stream could carve through mountains, given time. Saruman would find a way around his current limitations, of that he had every confidence. First, he needed knowledge, and the best way to get that was to construct another scrying stone. He had tomes in his library that held the theories behind the construction of such things, and plenty of raw materials and components in his workrooms.
After a few weeks of failed experiments, Saruman managed to create something like the lost Palantir. It was fairly similar in size and appearance, but the stone was nowhere near as powerful. The true secrets to creating such a puissant object would take far longer to discern than mere weeks, but he was impatient to see something besides the four walls of his tower. The orb should be strong enough to show him anything that was in the open within a hundred mile radius, if he had done his work aright.
Dark eyes stared into the polished quartz as he spoke the command to awaken the stone. A soft ripple of power spun through the interior of the crystal, making the orb appear murky instead of clear. First, he would see if there were any near to thwart his plans. "Show me anything you can regarding those who would ally with Gandalf or that Dunedain, Aragorn, besides those which I can see with my unaided eye."
The swirling light increased within the Seeing Stone for several minutes before settling into a black field. Symbols flashed across the darkness, scrolling across the surface from left to right. They were familiar enough to tease the senses, but Saruman knew that he had never seen such glyphs before. The glittering white letters rose upward to make room for still more text as he stared.
What manner of magic had he wrought? It was not what he had anticipated, but this was the first orb that had not exploded or melted upon activation. The improvement was heartening, but now he was left with a new puzzle. What was this language, and why was the Seeing Stone showing it to him?
Maybe the orb wasn't powerful enough to actually show him events, and could only record them like a scroll? Yes, that must be it. Well, this had been his first foray into making such things; perhaps there was some passage or somatic gesture he had failed to note.
Since he had been using spells found in the oldest of his grimoures, perhaps the stone was recording in the language of the originators of the rituals? With a sense of wonder, the wizard began to trace the symbols on the wax tablet he had been making his notes on the sphere. By the time an hour had passed, Saruman was convinced he had all the symbols. There were even a great many repeated series of glyphs, which bore out his theory that the runes were a complex language.
It was unfortunate that using the Scrying Stone had depleted his magical reserves. It would take the passing of another day before he would have the energy to cast a translation spell. Although that would only apply to what he had copied down. The spell would need to be recast over each parchment that he copied. That would mean a day of copying, a day of rest, casting the spell to read the text, and then at least another day before he could use the orb again.
Saruman sat back and eyed the stone. Perhaps it would be more efficient to imbue the sphere with a translation spell than to suffer that ritual over and over until he could learn the language. Besides, he had never seen the like anywhere in all his travels. Why spend so much time learning something that was useful in such a limited fashion? It would not be difficult to add another enchantment to the orb.
Yes, that would do quite nicely. Decision made, the white haired wizard exited the room, careful to activate the door ward. It would not do for Grima to enter; the fool could not be trusted to refrain from defenestrating the Seeing Stone. Saruman had no wish to waste time and magic creating another. The world was continuing without him, he could feel it, and the sensation was infuriating.