A/N: New chapter, guys! :D Are you liking the storyline so far? Anything you think I should add or change about it? It's not too late to let me know! ^^ I had a lot of fun writing in Elvish in the last chapter. Maybe I'll do that again, who knows? ;) Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I don't own Lord of the Rings, sadly. :( No one will ever be as great of a writer as Tolkien.

I nervously watched the trees around us as our company rode through Fangorn forest once more. Honestly, it was not as dark and creepy as before, seeing as now it was daytime, and we were not on foot. But my previous nightmare haunted my every step. It seemed like every time I closed my eyes, I saw a flash of fire as Sauron laughed bitterly in my head.

Shuddering slightly, I tried to stop thinking about that and tried to focus on staying in line. I rode behind Legolas and Gimli. Aragorn rode in front of them, and Gandalf was at the head of the line. King Théoden and a few of his men rode behind me as we all steadily wove through the forest, making our way towards Isengard.

I had expected to see Isengard as a great fortress of stone and metal, as Gandalf had once described it as. But upon arrival, I was shocked to see that this was not so. Where once a great black wall had stood firm, there were now gaping holes, rocks crumbling to the ground. And even the ground was no more. The entire are was flooded. Gray, foul water swamped the place. But as we came up to what was once the Gate of Isengard, my heart was lifted, for I saw two very familiar faces sitting upon a large fallen stone. I grinned. "Merry! Pippin!"

The two hobbits spotted us as we emerged from the trees, and Merry stood up and bowed. "Welcome, my lords and lady...to Isengard!" He shakily pointed to his left.

I laughed. "Obviously you have had a bit too much merriment, my friend! Isengard is behind you."

He blinked. "Ah...that it is!"

"You young rascals!" Gimli scolded. "A merry hunt you've led us on, and now we find you...feasting, and...and smoking!"

"We are sitting," Pippin corrected him, "on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts." Merry nodded beside him and blew several puffs of smoke from his mouth. "The salted pork is particularly good."

I could practically see Gimli's mouth watering. "S-salted pork?..."

Gandalf shook his head disapprovingly. "Hobbits."

"We're under orders!" Merry said. "From Treebeard, who has taken over management of Isengard."

"Very well, Meriadoc," Gandalf replied. "We will go see him now. Care to join us? Or are you too content drinking your life away that you will not so much as lift a finger?" He smiled faintly.

Pippin jumped down and ran over to him. "Well, no! I should very much like to join you! It gets rather boring, sitting up here and doing nothing all day." He climbed onto Corror, behind Aragorn, and Merry also came along and rode with Éomer. We headed inside, our horses sloshing through the water. As we wove our way towards Orthanc in the center, I took notice of all the wreckage surrounding us. Broken wood and scraps of metal were everywhere, old bark and other dirt floating atop the water's surface. The oddest thing, though, were the trees. They were huge, maybe twenty or thirty feet tall, looming over us. With groans and moans they walked about, able to cross the entire circle of Saruman's stronghold in a dozen strides or so. One of them stood at the foot of a great stairway leading into Orthanc. He had a great mossy beard, and deep yellowish-green eyes, and a low, rumbling voice to match.

"Mmm...young Master Gandalf. I'm, hoom, glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there's a wizard to manage here...locked in his tower." In a way, he reminded me of Gandalf himself, old and wise.

Aragorn looked up to the top of the great fortress, towering over us like a great black spike, piercing the otherwise blue sky. "Show yourself," he whispered.

"Be careful!" Gandalf said. "Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous."

"Well let's just have his head and be done with it!" Gimli sighed. I chuckled. That was the easy way out.

"No," the old wizard replied. "we need him alive. We need him to talk."

There was a long silence. And then, a deep, evil voice filled the air. "You have fought many wars and slain many many men, Théoden King, and made peace afterwards." I looked up, and there, at the top of his tower, Saruman stood, still clothed in clean robes of white, leaning on his thin black staff. A white globe was at its tip, and his hair and beard were also white, save for a tuft of black in them. I frowned upon seeing him. "Can we not take council together, as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"

I knew exactly what he was up to. His voice was deep and enchanting, as he was trying to put a spell on Théoden. But I did not see a kind old friend. I saw a monster, ready to pounce on its prey.

"We shall have peace," the King spoke up. I looked over at him in dread. Had he fallen under Saruman's spell?

But I was mistaken. "We shall have peace, when you answer for the burning of the Westfold, and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace, when the lives of the soldiers, whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows!...we shall have peace," he shouted.

"Gibbets and crows?" Saruman scoffed. "Dotard!" he spat. "And what do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess. The Key of Orthanc, or perhaps the Keys of Barad-Dûr itself? Along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards?"

"Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are now at risk! But you can save them, Saruman! You were deep in the Enemy's council," Gandalf replied.

"So you have come here for information?" Saruman smirked. He reached into the depths of his robe, and pulled out a large, round, black thing. "I have some for you." Holding it out over the edge of the tower, he eyed it lustfully. "Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it." He lowered his arm, and gripped it by his side. "Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You are all going to die." Gandalf looked at him oddly, and slowly urged Shadowfax forward. "But you know this, don't you Gandalf? You cannot think that this...Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor," he sneered. "This exile crept from the shadows will never be crowned king."

I clenched my fists. He was pushing his luck. No one insults my family that way.

"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him. Those he professes to 'love.' Tell me," he hissed, "what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom?"

"I suggest that you get your facts straight before you speak, Saruman," I shouted, "for it was not by Gandalf's hand that he was sent on this journey. He chose his own path!" I glared at him.

His attention turned to me. "And I suggest that a helpless girl such as yourself learns her place. This is not some simple tea party for children to meddle in, especially children who are weak and foolish."

My anger grew. I had a strong desire to punch him in the face.

"Even so," Saruman continued, "what good would it do? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."

"I've heard enough," Gimli muttered beside me. He nudged Legolas's arm. "Shoot him! Stick an arrow in his gob!" he whispered. Legolas nodded and reached for his arrows.

"No!" Gandalf said sharply. "Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared!"

"Yes," I said quietly, "come down so I can wring your filthy neck."

"Save your pity and your mercy! I have no use for it!" he thrust his staff downward, and from its end there sprung a burst of fire. It flew at lightning speed, and hit Gandalf directly. He and Shadowfax both burst into flame.

My eyes widened. "Gandalf!" I cried. I made to jump off my horse, but Legolas reached out and grabbed my arm to stop me. I looked up to see the flames die down, and Gandalf emerged from the blaze without so much as breaking a sweat.

"Saruman!" Gandalf shouted. "Your staff is broken!"

I looked back up to the traitor, and there was a loud crack as the black rod exploded and burst into pieces, dissolving as they fell to us.

The pale man that had been misleading Théoden in Rohan came creeping up behind him, still wrapped in black fabric. He looked tired and disheveled.

Théoden recognized him immediately. "Gríma! You need not follow him! You were not always as you are now! You were once a man of Rohan!"

Gríma winced, as if recalling a painful old memory, and shrunk back a bit.

"A man...of Rohan..." Saruman growled. "What is the house of Rohan, but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and rats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Théoden Horse-master! You are a lesser son of greater sires."

Théoden looked back up at Saruman's servant hopefully. "Gríma, come down. Be free of him."

"Free?" Saruman roared. "He will never be free!"

Gríma looked up. "No.." he said.

Saruman turned to him, eyes blazing with fury. With a cry, he struck Gríma on the cheek, and the poor man screamed and fell down.

"Saruman!" Gandalf called out. "You were deep in the Enemy's council," he said again. "Tell us what you know."

Saruman glared down at Gandalf again. "You withdraw your guards, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here!"

Suddenly, Gríma grabbed him from behind, and drove a knife deep into his back. Saruman tensed and grunted in pain. Gríma withdrew the dagger and stabbed him again. Gandalf winced.

Legolas quickly fired and arrow, and it hit its mark, piercing Gríma's heart. He gasped and dropped the knife, falling back onto the roof.

Saruman then stumbled and fell, but instead of joining Gríma, turned and fell off the roof of Orthanc, a tiny white blur, quickly growing bigger, tumbling and flipping in the sky. He landed flat on his back on a large spike sticking out of a great wooden wheel in the water with a sickening crunch. Merry gasped and covered his mouth. I cringed.

After a moment, Gandalf said, "Send word to all our allies, and to every corner of Middle-Earth that still stands free. The Enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike."

There was a loud groan, and we all watched as the large wheel now bearing the body of Saruman slowly began to turn, pushing his now pale body into the murky water below. A loud plop was heard, and I caught a glimpse of the black ball he had held earlier fall from his hand and into the water. The last thing we ever saw of Saruman were the tips of his white boots as they sunk to the bottom.

Suddenly, Pippin jumped down and ran over to the spot where the black thing had fallen. He reached down and picked it up. He stared at it, an abyss of black nothingness, turning it in his small hands.

"Pippin!" Gandalf shouted. The hobbit jumped and looked up at him. "I'll take that, my lad." Reluctantly, Pippin held the glass ball out to Gandalf, who quickly took it and wrapped it in one of his cloaks. I looked at it warily. Something told me that whatever Pippin had found was not a good thing.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoOo

Several days later, we returned to Edoras from Isengard. The journey back had been nothing particularly special, but even still I felt an evil presence around us at all times, like we were being watched. On the first night back in Edoras, I entered our guest room to find Merry, Pippin, Gimli, and Gandalf all sleeping, but Aragorn and Legolas were nowhere to be found. I quietly crept across the room, glancing down at Gandalf, who was sound asleep, but with eyes wide open, and the stone that Saruman had dropped held tightly in his arms. That was it. That ball was the thing that had me worried so much. I paused for a moment, then continued out the door.

I emerged outside onto a large stone flat, like a balcony without railings. Two tall figures stood at the edge, and I walked over to them. One of them was Aragorn, and the other was Legolas, who had his cloak pulled tightly around his shoulders and over his head. Both of them looked distressed. "What is wrong?" I asked.

Legolas's eyes were watching the horizon intently. I looked out too, and saw the ever-present flicker of Mount Doom in the distance. "The stars are veiled," he said. "Something stirs in the East. A sleepless malice. The Eye of the Enemy is moving."

Again I thought of the black ball. "What is that stone that Pippin picked up? It has been bothering me ever since I laid eyes on it."

"It is the palantír," Aragorn said. "The Seeing Stone. Saruman used it to contact Sauron when it was in his possession in the past. It is the key to how they have strategized together all these years."

I looked at him. "How do you know this?"

"Gandalf told me, a long time ago. He knows how evil it is, but I do not know why he is keeping it. Most likely to prevent it from being found, but I am not certain."

"Do you think he would try to use it in the upcoming battle?" I asked.

"No. If Gandalf – if any of us – were to look into the palantír, there is no telling what might be seen, on either side."

I looked back to the East. "Sauron's strength is growing fast. He will strike soon. We must be ready."

"We are as ready as we ever will be," Legolas said. "There is not much more we can do to prepare until we know where he will strike. He could be on the outskirts of this city by tomorrow, and we would not even know."

I shook my head. "I do not think that Sauron is going to attack Rohan. He must have known of Saruman's march on Helm's Deep, and I doubt that Saruman was able to contact him since then. Rohan should safe, for the time being."

"But that still leaves the rest of Middle-Earth open," Aragorn said. "Still plenty of options."

"Maybe..." I closed my eyes and thought. Suddenly, it came to me. "If you were Sauron," I said aloud, "and you had an entire strong army at your command, where would you want to strike?"

After a moment, Legolas answered. "I would strike a realm that was already weak, to ensure that my side would win."

"Exactly. And what is the one other kingdom other than Rohan that is weakest at this point?"

There was a moment of silence. Finally, Aragorn spoke. "Gondor."

I looked at him gravely and nodded. "I would say it is more than likely that Sauron will attack Gondor. The capital city would be your best guess."

"Minas Tirith..." my cousin whispered.

Legolas snapped his head up and looked at us. "He is here!"

I was about to ask him what that meant, when there came a loud cry for help from our room. All three of us ran in to see Pippin jerking about on the floor, holding the palantír in his hands. It looked like it was on fire, and his face showed he was in great pain. Merry was standing nearby, looking at his friend worriedly, and Gandalf shot up out of bed.

Without thinking, I ran towards Pippin and ripped the palantír out of his grasp. When I did, my mind went black. In an instant, I heard a roar in my ears, and I felt like I was being shocked over and over again with lightning. Sauron's voice was in my head. I saw the panicked faces of those around me, and things moving, but it all seemed to be in slow motion. I couldn't think.

"Íverin...do not try and hide from me. I know where you are. I know whom you love. You cannot escape death, no matter how hard you try. Give up, while you still have the chance. Come serve me."

Now I heard my own voice in my head, but I wasn't speaking aloud. "No! I will never bow down to you! You are nothing more than a filthy, twisted soul!"

Sauron cackled. "You are unwise, foolish girl. Go back to the trees where you belong." His laughter grew louder and louder in my head, and my vision of our room in Edoras began to fade away, slowly being replaced by fire and shadow. It felt like a pair of hands was tightening around my throat, like my body itself was on fire. And then...everything went black.