Chance Encounter
Disclaimer: I don't Balian, the Fellowship, or anything that you recognize. I'm just borrowing them without permission but with every intention of returning them, savvy?
Chapter 27: Voices and Headaches
Saruman's voice was so intoxicating and his words were so convincing that Balian almost found himself believing the fallen wizard. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. 'He has the voice of Satan,' he told himself. 'He knows how to manipulate the truth.'
"…Save your pity and your mercy!" the wizard was saying. "I have no use for it!" A ball of fire shot down from his staff to envelope Gandalf. They all shielded their faces from the blaze but as the flames died down, they could see that Gandalf was unharmed.
"Saruman," said Gandalf. "Your staff is broken." The other wizard's staff began to vibrate then it shattered with a blast of light. Saruman looked at the splinters of wood that he grasped, seemingly too shocked to speak. A stooped figure crept up behind him and Balian recognized him as Théoden's former adviser, Grima Wormtongue.
"Grima," called Théoden. "You need not follow him. You were once a man of Rohan." It seemed that the King had forgiven Wormtongue for what he had done. Balian looked at the King with new respect. Only a great man could forgive so easily.
"A man of Rohan?" sneered Saruman, who had recovered from his initial shock. "What is the House of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and their brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helms Deep does not belong to you, Théoden King! You are a lesser son of greater sires."
Balian could see Éomer bristling in anger but Théoden ignored the insult and focused on Grima. "Come down, Grima," he said. "Be free of him."
"Free?" said Saruman. "He will never be free!
"No," said Grima.
"Get. Down. Cur!" snarled the wizard, striking the man across the face.
"Saruman," said Gandalf. He had no interest in wayward advisers at the moment. He needed Saruman to stay on topic. "You were deep in the Enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know."
"You withdraw you guard and I shall tell you where your doom is to be decided," said Saruman, laying down his conditions. "I will not be held prisoner here!" He got his wish, for at that moment, just as he finished the last word, Grima Wormtongue stabbed him in the back multiple times. The wizard gasped in shock as the blade entered his flesh. Legolas put an arrow to the string and released it, piercing Wormtongue's heart. The man fell back with a cry and died.
Saruman's lifeless body tumbled down from the top of the tower and was impaled by a spike on one of his own water wheels. The wheel turned, pulling the wizard's corpse beneath the water's surface. A round object fell from the corpse's sleeve, unnoticed by all except Pippin.
"Send word to all our allies," said Gandalf. "Sauron will attack soon. We need to know where he will strike." Théoden nodded, looking worried.
"The filth of Saruman is washing away," said the tree... 'Ent,' Balian corrected himself. 'And its…his name is Treebeard.'
"Trees will come back to live here," continued Treebeard. "Young trees. Wild trees."
Pippin slid off from in front of Balian and waded through the water. "Pippin?" said Balian. What was the hobbit doing? Pippin ignored him and bent down to retrieve something from the water. It was a crystal sphere, the size of a small melon. Something flickered within its centre and it beckoned to the hobbit, tempting him to look into it. Pippin turned it over in his hands, seemingly intoxicated by it. He was so absorbed that he did not notice Gandalf riding up behind him until the wizard spoke. "I'll take that, Peregrin my lad," said Gandalf, holding out a cloth-covered hand. Pippin looked up at the wizard and hesitated.
"Quickly now," said Gandalf. Reluctantly, Pippin handed it over to the wizard who immediately wrapped it up in the cloth and stowed it away in the folds of his robes.
Balian wondered what was so significant about that crystal ball. It disturbed him somehow, although it was an inanimate object. They rode back to Edoras in silence, each preoccupied with deciphering the meaning of Saruman's words.
Éowyn was waiting for them on the steps of Meduseld, looking as she did when the Fellowship first saw her. The green and gold banners of Rohan waved proudly in the breeze, telling all who saw them of the victory at Helms Deep. Inside, people scurried about like bees in a hive, preparing for a banquet. Tables were being set up and tapestries put back on the walls. Guy had been given a broom and was sweeping the floor with a scowl on his face. In actual fact he was pushing the dust around and sending it flying everywhere until Balian could bear it no longer, snatched the broom from his grasp and began to do the chore himself, with much more efficiency.
Happy, laughing children got underfoot and more than once, their leather ball tripped someone up and sent them falling flat onto their faces. No one minded much, although Balian did pretend to sweep them all outside with his broom, making them giggle even more. "Away with you," he said in mock anger. "You are a danger to people who are trying to do honest work!" They danced out of the reach of his broom and pulled faces.
Inside the kitchens, Merry and Pippin were giving instructions on how best to cook the meat and other foodstuffs. "Mushrooms should be stewed in wine then smothered in cheese," said Merry.
"No they shouldn't," said Pippin.
"Well how would you do it then, oh great chef of the Shire?" said Merry. "Give us your expert opinion."
"Mushrooms," said Pippin with the air of a professional "should be stuffed, battered and fried in butter until the batter is crisp and the mushrooms and stuffing are cooked."
"How about mushroom salad?" suggested Legolas who had come in to fetch a drink. The hobbits eyed him as if he had suggested that they jump over the moon.
"That would just be a waste of perfectly good mushrooms," they both said vehemently.
That night, all the Rohirrim warriors and Éowyn gathered in the Great Hall. The atmosphere was solemn as they thought of the ones who should have been here with them, celebrating the victory. "Tonight," said Théoden, rising to his feet as Éowyn handed him a golden goblet of wine. Everyone rose as the King did. "We gather to remember those who gave their lives to defend this country," continued the King. "All hail the victorious dead."
"Hail!" they all echoed and drank from their frothy tankards of ale. It tasted bitter to Balian, like the sentiments that they were all surely feeling. So many lives, lost. Of his group of men, only ten survived. Many of the boys were hewn down by the orcs' merciless swords. He remembered their young faces, so full of hope when he knighted them. They had trusted him to lead them through it safely, and he had failed.
"It's hard, isn't it?" said Éomer, coming up behind him with a tankard of his own in his hand. "I've lost many men, and I'm still not used to it."
"I suppose it means we're still human," said Balian softly. "The day we get used to it is the day we cease to be men and become monsters."
"Let's hope that day never comes," said Éomer, raising his tankard in a toast.
"God willing, it won't," said Balian. He too raised his tankard to his lips but stopped when his companion gave him a strange look.
"Who is this 'God' you're talking about?" the Rohirrim man asked.
Balian felt totally perplexed. How could he explain it? He was no priest. Indeed, he was not even a particularly religious man. "Err…" he said. "God…is the entity that created everything…He is almighty and compassionate and well, he takes care of everything and judges men's souls when they die."
"So he's like the One," said Éomer.
"I guess," said Balian who knew nothing about religions in Middle Earth. He made a note to ask someone about it later.
"Ah, what are we doing, talking about such serious things tonight," said Éomer. "Come, you should join in the fun." He dragged the blacksmith in the direction where Legolas and Gimli seemed to be intent on embarrassing one another.
"Well, they certainly look as if they need some help," said Éomer. "What say we engage them in a drinking contest?"
"A drinking contest?" said Balian.
"I'll explain later."
Balian, Gimli and Legolas each held a tankard. A crowd had gathered around them, cheering them on. Gimli had a look of glee on his face while both Balian and Legolas looked dubiously into their tankards.
"No pauses, no spills," said Éomer.
"And no regurgitation," added the dwarf.
"So…it's a drinking game?" said Legolas
"What exactly is the point of it?" said Balian.
"Last one standing wins!" cried Gimli, raising his drink to his lips and gulping it down.
Balian followed suit, although he did it with a grimace. Ale was definitely not to his taste. Legolas gave his ale a few uncertain sniffs then took a sip. With one swift movement, he poured it down his throat. As soon as they finished one, they were handed another. Soon, Balian lost count on how many he had drunk and focused on just getting it down. Why he even agreed, he had no idea. His world started spinning and his tongue became too fat and cumbersome to use properly. From across the hall, Éowyn glared at her brother who just shrugged as he handed another tankard to the less-than-sober blacksmith. She stormed over. "Is this how you treat your friends?" she said.
"He agreed," said Éomer. "I didn't threaten him."
'Men can be so frustratingly stupid,' thought Éowyn, relieving Balian of his tankard. The blacksmith would have crumpled into a drunken heap by now if he was not sitting in a chair and leaning against the table. The Shieldmaiden of Rohan sighed and went away to find someone to brew willowbark tea for when the drunks woke up. Somehow, the tea that she brewed always augmented their headaches, or so they claimed.
Pippin couldn't sleep. Something lurked at the back of his mind, causing him to feel restless. He gave up and got up. Everyone was asleep and immersed in drink-induced dreams. He headed towards the bed where Gandalf was lying. He wanted to see what was inside that crystal ball. Slowly, he crept amongst the bedrolls upon which lay sleepers of varying sizes. Gimli's snores shook the foundations of the building while Balian was curled up on his side, clutching a blanket to his chin, blissfully unaware of what was going on. Aragorn and Legolas were nowhere to be seen. Pippin assumed that they were housed elsewhere.
Gandalf's open eyes nearly made Pippin jump back but the wizard did not seem to have seen him. He waved his hand before the wizard's face. Said wizard mumbled something inaudible. Yes, Gandalf was asleep. It was uncanny how some things such as elves and wizards could sleep with their eyes open. One could never tell whether they were sleeping or not.
The hobbit grabbed the wrapped up crystal ball from Gandalf's arms and replaced it with a jug of around the same size. The wizard did not notice the difference.
"What you doin'" said Merry sleepily. Pippin almost dropped his prize. He ran back to his bedroll, jumping over sleeping bodies. His bare feet made no noise on the cold flagstones.
"I just want to have a look at it," he said, unwrapping the cloth from crystal ball.
"Put it back!" hissed Merry. The young Took did not listen to his cousin. The crystal ball lay exposed before him. Breathing quickly with apprehension, he placed his hand on its hard smooth surface.
Merry watched Pippin's expression change from one of awe to horror to pain. His cousin seemed to be burning from within. Pippin fell to the floor, writhing in pain. His mouth was open in a silent scream of agony.
"Help!" cried Merry, waking everyone. "Gandalf!" Before the wizard could do anything however, Aragorn and Legolas burst into the room. The ranger did not think before he seized the thing from Pippin's hands. Immediately, he fell to his knees and dropped it. It rolled across the floor, and men avoided it. The crystal ball stopped by the wall and Gandalf immediately threw the cloth over it.
"Fool of a Took!" he shouted for a second time. Pippin lay on his bedroll as if his life force had been sucked out of him. His face was the colour of curdled milk and he was sweating and shivering at the same time. The wizard rushed over to him, put a hand over his head and murmured a few words which Balian suspected were a healing charm of some sort.
"What did you see?" asked Gandalf.
"Gandalf," wheezed Pippin. "Forgive me."
"What did you see?" repeated the wizard, more strongly this time.
"A tree," said the hobbit. "A white tree in a courtyard of stone. It was dead…"
"And?" Gandalf said encouragingly.
"The city was burning. I saw…I saw him! I heard his voice inside my head. He asked me my name. I didn't answer. He hurt me…"
That was all Balian could bear to hear. He went out of the room and into the open, taking deep gulps of crisp cold air. His head felt as if there was a battle raging inside, complete with catapults, ballistae, siege towers and a battering ram. Pippin's words made him feel ill. If this Sauron could hurt people from such a distance, what would happen if he succeeded and took over Middle Earth?
On the horizon, the fires of Mordor tinged the sky red, as if it was stained with blood. The blacksmith felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Éowyn. "I heard the commotion," she said. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine," said Balian. "It's just a headache."
"Your face looks like mellowing cheese in this light," she said. "It must be some headache you're having. Come, there's a tea waiting for you in the kitchens. I knew this would happen." Balian doubted she was talking about Pippin and the crystal ball.
"See to Pippin first," he said. "I can wait."
"Gandalf is looking after him," she said. "I wouldn't know what to do anyway."
"What is that crystal ball?" he asked. "How can Sauron use it at such a distance?"
"I don't know," said Éowyn.
"It's a palantir," said Legolas, coming out. "It's a seeing stone. There were seven of them originally but they were all thought to be lost. It seems that Sauron has found one of them and was using it to communicate with Saruman. I'd hate to think what could have happened if Pippin had maintained the link for just a moment longer."
"Thanks to Aragorn's quick reactions, we won't have to find out," said Balian. "How is he?"
"Pippin?"
"No, Aragorn."
"Drained, but otherwise unharmed. He didn't hold it for long enough." The elf looked Balian up and down. "You look ill, Balian. Why don't you go in with Éowyn to get some tea? Gandalf will tell us what we are to do in the morning. At the moment, all we can do is wait."
Morning came soon enough. Pippin looked much better but still very pale. Balian's headache had receded somewhat thanks to the willowbark tea which did not taste much worse than the ale and now there was only a dull throb behind his eyes.
"We were extremely fortunate," Gandalf was saying. "Pippin saw in the palantir a glimpse of Sauron's plans. He will strike at Minas Tirith." He turned to his assembled audience which consisted of the King, Éomer and the other members of the Fellowship, not including Guy who was still sleeping off the effects of last night's liquor.
"His defeat at Helm's Deep showed our enemy one thing," continued the wizard. "He knows the Heir of Elendil has come forth. Men are not as weak as he supposed. There is courage still. Strength enough, perhaps, to challenge him." He turned to Aragorn and looked at him meaningfully. "Sauron fears this. He will not risk the peoples of Middle Earth uniting under one banner. He will raze Minas Tirith to the ground before he sees a King return to the throne of men. If the beacons of Gondor are lit Rohan must be ready for war."
The King crossed his arms. "Tell me," he said with ill-disguised impatience. "Why should we ride to the aid of those who did not come to ours? What do we owe Gondor?" Balian wondered at this. Just yesterday, he had been so ready to forgive Grima Wormtongue. Why was Théoden not ready to forgive Gondor? What grievances did he have against Boromir's countrymen?
"I will go," said Aragorn.
"No," said Gandalf.
"They must be warned!" insisted the ranger.
"They will be," Gandalf assured him. He leant towards Aragorn and spoke in a low voice into the man's ear. "You must come to Minas Tirith by another road. Follow the river. Look to the black ships." He turned back to all of them. "Understand this; things are now in motion that cannot be undone. I ride for Minas Tirith." The wizard turned to Pippin and gave the hobbit a stern glare. "And I won't be going alone."
A/N: Did you guys like it? Hate it? Please tell me. It just occurred to me that I've never seen Balian drunk or acting in a less than sensible way before so here goes: Intoxicated Knight. Hope you guys didn't mind too much. Heh heh. Now we're going onto the serious stuff again. Another questionnaire: Should Balian go with Aragorn, Gimli and Legolas into the paths of the dead or should he stay behind to ride to battle with the Rohirrim? Include answers in reviews! (This should be more incentive to leave me some reviews ;D)