A/N: Kd7sov thanks for reviewing. This is mostly my therapy for all the links Heywood feels the need to inflict… I mean share, but it's nice to know someone else is enjoying it as well.
Grima slumped on the stone flooring, abjectly miserable. Three times Saruman had reactivated the Seeing Stone, and each time it had shown him the exact same place. It could not be moved or refocused. Nor did the conversations they observed change much. There were other speakers, yes, but they hashed over the same topics. Legolas was a favorite for discussion, although others did have their day.
Except for the dwarf. He was never brought up as a lust object, for which Wormtongue was grateful. It had been bad enough to sit through the discussion on what Lord Elrond was or wasn't wearing under his robes. Worse had been the debate over whether or not his twin sons would share a wife, since they were one soul in two bodies, or if they were engaged in incestuous relations so that the two halves of their soul could come together as one.
It wasn't so much the subject that had been so bad as it was that it actually gotten Grima thinking about it. They'd actually caused him to think about a lot of things. Their discussions always provoked him to reevaluate everything he'd ever believed, usually in a negative light. This latest discussion had been no exception.
Today the LotrhottiesChat had been filled with debate over whether it would be better to go to Middle Earth, and the 'hottie' of choice, or have them come to their world. It was a rather blatant confirmation that the Seeing Stone was looking into another dimension, one that had some form of contact with Arda. They had to, otherwise, how could they know about the ones they spoke of, but what realm were they in? What kind of powers did they have that they could see into Middle Earth so easily?
"Get up, you weakling." Saruman kicked the smaller man in the side, interrupting his mental conjecturing.
Slowly, using the edge of the pedestal for support, Grima rose to his feet. He curled slightly around the pain in his ribs. "I have no more magic left in me this day, my master."
"I know that, fool, but you still have your legs. Get you to the dovecotes. Send this message to my Haradrim allies. I believe I have something to offer them that will be worth my release." Saruman smiled, and Grima recoiled from the unholy glee in his eyes.
Wormtongue took the small cylinder. When had Saruman written it? Had he been drained so much that he had failed to notice? That was a bad sign. One should always be aware of what the crafty old wizard was planning, lest one end up on the wrong side of an arrangement. He hobbled out of the room and headed for the cages that held the messenger birds.
Saruman used the birds when he didn't want there to be any chance that the other mages would learn of his maneuverings, and there were still several here from before the Ents had taken up patrol around the tower. The homing pigeons should travel right on past those slow-witted tree stumps.
"They want to go to Middle Earth, do they?" Saruman smiled down at the orb. Well, he could arrange that. The Haradrim would love to get their hands on a bunch of exotic virgins for their harems. Now he'd just have to find out how many they wanted in exchange for freeing him.