Chapter 20 - The New Ringlord

Orthanc, TA 2953

Maker Of Rings

Saruman was stung when Círdan gave his ring to Gandalf instead of himself. But it was nothing compared to what he felt when he found the case that held the One Ring, then opened it and found it empty.

The twin disappointments drove him to do something he never would have attempted otherwise. He forged another ring, only this time it wasn't to model a latching mechanism, it was to magnify his own power.

He pulled the ring out of the fire and plunged it into the quench barrel. He put the ring on, and right away, he could tell feel it. All his native abilities were amplified, not by a lot, but enough that he could tell.

He loved it. He wore it all the time.

He hadn't put any of his own power into his ring. The effect came entirely from the cleverness of his design. Saruman was an excellent ring maker. He believed he had just surpassed Sauron in skill, if not in might. It changed the way he thought of himself.

I am Saruman, Maker of Rings.

He couldn't believe what he'd done. It was crazy. He could just imagine how much grief he would get from the others. Perhaps it would be best not to mention it.

Destroy The Evidence

Saruman was in the archives at Minas Tirith, surrounded by ancient scrolls. He didn't feel the pleasure he usually took in historical artifacts. He was in a panic about how Sauron learned of Isildur's end in the Gladden Fields. As far as he knew, Sauron and his servants didn't have access to the Library in Minas Tirith, but it was hard to be sure. The spies of the Enemy were everywhere.

Saruman examined the Ring inscription scroll, looking for any evidence it been handled since he was there last. When he was done with a scroll, he tied the archivist's red tape[1] in a half-hitch rather than a square knot like most people do. With a half-hitch, the tape lay flat and was less likely to damage the scroll. Happily, all the scrolls pertaining to the Ring were still tied with Saruman's half-hitch. He felt sure that the Sauron's servants hadn't seen them yet.

But they might yet. Saruman didn't know what he could do to prevent it. He considered hiding them under his robes and taking them to Orthanc, to lock them up safely. But several other scholars working at the next table might see him do it. Besides, the archivist would know who had them last.

Saruman considered destroying the scrolls. A knocked-over cup of tea would do it. He touched the mug, intending to spill it on the table. But Saruman was too much of a scholar to destroy irreplaceable historical documents. He tried, but he couldn't make himself do it.

Midnight Palantir Use

Saruman made frequent use of the Palantir. Especially now that Sauron had it, he had to be careful not to draw the attention of the Ithil Stone.

But Saruman was chosen to Head of the White Council for a reason. He knew more about Sauron than any of the others. He shared a bedroom with him for all the years of their youth, so he knew something about him none of the others did.

If the world is divided up into night owls and larks, Sauron was a lark. He could not keep his eyes open past ten at night. If Sauron was using the Ithil Stone, he wasn't doing it after midnight.

Saruman, on the other hand, was an owl. A little past midnight, he pulled back the canvas cover and stared into the orb. He knew he was taking a risk using the Palantir, now that Sauron was in Mordor, but he thought the risk was manageable.

Saruman willed the Palantir to take him below the surface of the Anduin River. For hours, he searched among the rock and sand and water plants, looking for the glint of gold.

From Adversary To Rival

Saruman began to think of himself as the next Ringlord. At some point, he'd stopped seeing Sauron as an adversary and begun to think of him as a rival. When had that happened?

He'd spent a lot of time trying to learn how the ring was made, but that was just to understand its effect on Sauron. He'd made a few minor rings, but that was to discover if the Elven Rings could be freed from the One. None of those things had changed him.

It began when Saruman came so close to finding the Ring that he could almost feel the weight of it on his hand, and then thought Sauron had found it first. He felt like he'd been robbed. And later, when he made a few minor rings of his own, he was surprised to discover that his early designs were better than Sauron's first attempts. He began to think of himself as the new Ringlord.

But there was more to it than that. Saruman was more fit to wield the Ring than Sauron was. They shared the same goal, to bring order and stability to Arda, but Sauron had been corrupted during his long service to Morgoth.

Saruman, on the other hand, served the Valar. He had never admired Morgoth. In fact, he'd hardly ever spoken to him. Saruman knew that some people saw Morgoth as larger than life, magnificent and thrilling. But Saruman knew that Morgoth was a user, and entirely selfish. Even before the Rebellion, Saruman had no use for him. Saruman could not be turned to evil.

When Saruman had the Ring, he would use it only for good. It would be a huge responsibility, but he was prepared to shoulder it.

A Nazgûl Of His Own

It occurred to him, that when he claimed the Ring, the Nazgûl would belong to him, too. He knew a little about some of them. The Witch King's personality was similar to Sauron's. The second Nazgûl, Khamûl, who had been a Ranger in life, was careful and deliberate. His personality was the most similar to his own.

Saruman decided, when the time came, he would demote the Witch King and make Khamûl his Chief Nazgûl.

Aulë's Favorite

Saruman would need to claim the Ring in order to enslave Sauron. That was their mission, to contain Sauron and limit his influence. He decided there wouldn't be any harm if he got something out of it, too. He thought his brother apprentice needed to be taken down a peg. He wouldn't mind being the one to do it.

Saruman paced back and forth in the large audience chamber in Orthanc and lapsed into a daydream. In his fantasy, the Ring was his, and Sauron had been enslaved.

Saruman sat on his throne-like chair and commanded Sauron to kneel before him. He regarded the trembling figure at his feet. Finally he spoke.

"Do you know why we did this to you?"

The shivering figure shook his head no.

"Lay on your belly." commanded Saruman, and Sauron had to do it.

"You chose to follow Morgoth, the Disrupter of the Music. You enslaved, tortured, and slaughtered the Children of Ilúvatar, whom you were put on earth to protect.

"And your worst crime of all, the thing we can't forgive .. "

In his mind's eye, Saruman saw Sauron in the temple of Morgoth, standing at the altar with a knife in his hand, indifferent to the pleas of the sacrificial victim. Visible through the door behind him, the ships of Ar-Pharazôn had already begun to leave the harbor, their sails filled by the freshening breeze. At Sauron's urging, the invasion of Valinor had begun.

"We can't forgive the fact that … you're still Aulë's favorite!"

Whoa! Where did that come from? Tears stung his eyes. The game just stopped being fun.

[1] Archivist's red tape is the historical origin of bureaucratic red tape.