Note: Just a thanks to faithful readers.
Threwen was mesmerized by the swirling oranges and blacks in the orb, the colors slowly forming a shape, a…an eye. She cringed at the picture. She hated it when he did this. He didn't care if he was communicating with his superior while she was there. Besides, she didn't matter. She was, after all, only a messenger.
She dug at the ground with her shoe, even though the flooring was made of stone. Maybe if she dug hard enough she would dig all the way to the other side of the world. Things might be less hard that way.
Finally he noticed her. "The events are set in motion."
She silently and elusively rolled her eyes, hoping he hadn't seen this gesture. Just like him to be so eloquent in his wording.
He motioned her to come closer to him, his long fingernails seemingly scraping the air, probably able to cut the tension between them with their knife like points. "I have a proposition for you."
Threwen gulped. "A proposition?"
He smiled and she suddenly thought that all that white did not suit him at all. He should be cloaked in all black showing people right out that he was evil, instead of the deceptive robes he wore now.
"Yes," he said, his voice echoing in the large room. "I would like you to stay in Edoras, keep an eye on things. Gríma may need your help should something go wrong. Watch them." He stopped and looked at her, his black eyes glinting.
Threwen squirmed under his gaze. The wizard thoroughly creeped her out, that was for sure. "Yes, sir," she said meekly.
An odd look passed over his face and then he said, "I want to show you something."
Mud. Everywhere. And it was moving. Shapes were forming in the muck that was down in the bowels of Isengard and the sickening beings that were being created made Threwen want to gag.
Okay, why is he showing me this?
The White Wizard held Threwen by the shoulders from behind her and surveyed his work. "Do you see?"
Threwen cleared her throat and shook her head. Yes, she saw the grotesque images before her and the mutilated creatures that would soon become his minions but she did not see the point in him showing her.
The corners of his mouth turned upward in an evil grin. "They are my army."
She was confused. "Army? For what?"
"Rohan."
Smack! Splat!
Taking your anger and frustration out on the dough for your next loaf of bread was very helpful. Very loud, but very helpful. Threwen had been back in Edoras for a couple of days and yet the Riders hadn't returned. She was worried. And then she realized that she shouldn't be worried because she wasn't supposed to be emotionally attached.
She sighed. It's so hard! She banged the dough hard on the wooden surface, aggravated to no end with her current situation. Deception, lies, complications!
Whack!
"You know, I think you're being too hard on it."
Threwen's eyes widened at the voice behind her. She whirled around.
"Rannyn!"
He was leaning against the doorpost, grinning. But he looked tired. There was a weariness in his eyes, a sadness that she had never seen before. "Hi," he said.
She rushed up to him, eager to find out what had happened. After all, she had been the one who had ratted out their location to none other than the White Wizard himself. She gently touched his arm, hesitant for any physical contact whatsoever. She didn't want to give him the wrong idea, after all.
He winced at her touch and she looked down, only to gasp.
"Your arm!" she exclaimed, inspecting the gash on his forearm.
He smiled weakly. "Guess this one didn't go so well." He looked down at it. "It's actually not that bad. Just put some dirt in it and the blood dries up."
Threwen wrinkled her nose. "You need to clean it out."
He threw her a look and said mockingly, "I don't need any help. I'm fine."
She narrowed her eyes and went to get a cloth to wipe it out, directing him to a chair. While she tended to him she quizzed him on what had happened, the events not to her liking.
"Ambush," he said simply, taking a sip of the cider she had given him.
"How many were lost?" she asked quietly.
"Many," came the reply. "Lord Théodred…" He stopped. "Lord Théodred is badly wounded," he said gravely.
Threwen gulped, feeling her stomach become a mass of knotted up guilt.
Rannyn got an angry look in his eye. "We get slaughtered while the King sits around and does nothing!" He slammed his mug down on the table, making Threwen jump.
She knew this was true. But she also knew that this was all part of the plan. The plan that she had helped with. She said nothing.
Threwen settled herself into the hay, expecting to have to wait again for Gríma, who had been late last time. But she was wrong.
"It is done."
Threwen turned to him, his appearance once again making her cringe. What a creepy little man.
"What is done?" she asked, although she was pretty sure she knew the answer.
"He is dead," he replied, a menacing look on his face. "And they are gone."
End Note: Ooh, I just love the drama! Tehe.