Chapter 21 - The Trap is Sprung

Orthanc, TA 3000

Terrifying Images

Saruman looked into the Palantir, searching below the surface of the Anduin for what must be at least the hundredth time.

It was just before dawn. He was tired, and his mind wandered. When he looked into the Palantir again, he wasn't sure at first what he was seeing.

Squares of soldiers, arranged row upon row, column upon column, vanishing into the distance. Standards. War machines. A hundred standard bearing the same heraldic device, the Lidless Eye.

I can't believe he's become so strong, so fast, without the Ring.

Sauron's armies looked as massive as his armies from the Second Age. The image didn't just look similar, it looked identical.

They appeared to be marching his way.

That image gave way to another. Isengard was in flames. There were fires underground, visible through fissures in the earth. Most of the trees were down, and the few that still stood were on fire. The Circle of Isen was overrun by orcs, far larger and fiercer than any that had come out of Mordor in the past. Even the sunlight didn't slow them down.

He couldn't stand it.

Then he saw an image of himself with his throat cut, his own blood soaking into the ground beneath him.

From his study of the Palantir in the archives, Saruman knew that Palantir images can't be faked. He was profoundly frightened.

"Join with me." the Lord of Mordor commanded him.

Saruman opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't.

"Join with me, and your reward will be great. Oppose me, and it will go the worse for you."

Saruman covered his hands with his face. He was almost in tears.

"What is your answer?"

"Fine, whatever." said Saruman.

Now go away.

Thoughts Of Escape

Saruman threw the canvas over the Palantir, his heart beating so hard he could hear it.

I will never, ever look into a Palantir again.

Saruman remembered the day Gandalf told Manwë he was afraid of Sauron, and Saruman laughed at him. Back then, Saruman had absolutely no idea how dangerous Sauron could be.

He considered what to do. A fast horse could take him to Lindon in less than a week. There, he would beg Círdan to take him from the Grey Havens to Valinor. And he would never, ever leave the Mansions of Aulë again.

But then he remembered when Gandalf said he was afraid and didn't want to go. Manwë made him go anyway. If Saruman quit and fled to Valinor, Manwë would send him right back. He didn't know what to do. He was trapped.

It's Always Better In Daylight

Saruman spent the night pacing back and forth in the large chamber. Sleep was impossible. He couldn't see any way out. Toward dawn, exhausted, he threw himself on top of the blankets, still in his clothes.

When he woke, the sun was high in the sky. The trees in the Circle of Isen looked normal, and the lawn and flowerbeds were lush and green. It was hard to believe anything bad could happen here.

He washed his face, put on clean clothes, and found something to eat. He felt much better.

After breakfast, he sat down at his desk with a cup of tea. He spread out fresh sheets of paper, dipped a pen in an inkwell, and considered his options.

On a sunny day like this, it was hard to believe anything terrible could happen. Dread horror lived in songs and far-away places, not in his own garden, so he was able to think about his situation calmly.

Sauron is going to win. If I oppose him, I will lose. If I side with him, I can at least share in the rewards of his victory. I will be his ally but not his servant. And I'm only doing this to buy time.

Saruman dipped the quill in ink and penned a few more lines.

I will pretend to join him. I will win his trust, and then I will betray him.

He's Too Dangerous

Once he had a plan, Saruman felt much calmer.

He resolved to tell Gandalf. He knew the risk he took in becoming Sauron's ally, but it would be a greater risk to oppose him.

He would encourage Gandalf to pretend to join also. He would feel better if he had a trusted friend at his side when he did this. He also considered asking Radagast, but decided against it. Radagast was pretty much useless.

Saruman climbed to the top chamber of Orthanc. He put his hand on the canvas, took a deep breath, and twitched it back. He saw an image forming in the Palantir. Celebrimbor, naked and impaled on a stake, blood running down his thighs, was being carried high like a banner in front of Sauron's army.

Sauron thought Celebrimbor had betrayed him, so he tortured him to death even. Celebrimbor was his friend, and the offense was minor.

Celebrimbor and Sauron worked together in the Gwaith-i-Mírdain for almost three hundred years. Then they went their separate ways when each began working in secret on his own project, Celebrimbor on the Three, and Sauron on the One.

Then Sauron learned that Celebrimbor was making the Three without him. Most people would have laughed and let it go, but not Sauron. He raised an army and swept across Eregion toward the Gwaith-i-Mírdain, leaving none alive if he could help it. Sauron didn't tolerate betrayal, and his definition of betrayal was stricter than most people's.

Saruman was shaking so hard he could barely stand.

I can't betray him, he's too dangerous. I don't know what to do.

I Will Nail You

It was a long time before Saruman looked into the Palantir again. When he did, Sauron was waiting for him.

Saruman grabbed for the edge of the canvas and was about to throw it over the Palantir, but his arm went limp. The canvas slipped from his fingers and fell to the floor.

Sauron named his terms.

"This is what I expect from you. You will report daily in the Palantir. You will open your gates to my servants, and stay out of their way. And above all, you will do my bidding."

Saruman didn't submit. He pretended to submit, to buy time. But all the while he was thinking,

I will find your Ring, and when I do, I will nail you.