Forests of New
Fanghorn was as dark and gloomy as she remembered, but the air felt lighter somehow, and the path revealed more easily, as, if the trees welcomed them. A small party weaved their way through the undergrowth, horses calmly trotting like they didn't know the dangers of Fanghorn. Legolas and Gimli were riding in front of Rosalie, the only woman in the party, while Aragorn and Gandalf were leading. A while later, thinning branches shed light on the path. From peeks, Rosalie could see smoke curling in the sky. Then, the girl could swear she heard laughter.
"I feel... Like I'm back at the green dragon, after a hard day's work." Pippin's light voice floated down the path. Rosalie glanced at the elf, wondering if he could hear anything else. Legolas just shrugged, turning back. Haldir had declined their invitation, deciding to head home with the rest of his people, to give his respects to the dead.
As they got closer, Rosalie could almost hear the frown in the other Hobbits voice, "Only you've never done a hard day's work." The tree line broke and revealed two little Hobbits sat on the remains of a crumbling watchtower. Merry was the first to see them, getting to his feet, waving his arms around him excitedly.
He bowed. "Welcome my lords," he caught sight of the blue-haired girl and smiled, "and ladies, to Isenguard!" The two Hobbits looked very relaxed, chewing pipes and not a smudge of dirt on them. For that, Rosalie was a little jealous, knowing her hair was knotted and shirt ripped along the bottom. Gimli also wasn't impressed.
"You young rascals!" He shouted, "a merry hunt you've led us on. Now we find you feasting and smoking!" Merry chewed on his pipe, little smoke rings escaping his mouth. Rosalie grinned at the sight. She had missed their company, the jokes and banter between them, never excluding anyone and always moaning about food and 'second breakfast'.
Pippin shook his head daintily, as if he was patronising the dwarf. "We are sitting in a field of victory," he informed Gimli, "enjoying a few well-earned comforts." The dwarf pulled a face, but Aragorn's grin matched Rosalie's. "The salted pork is particularly good." Gimli dropped his frown.
"Salted pork?" He repeated. The rangers smile grew, a tiny laugh accompanying it. The wizard at the head of the party shook his head, frowning a little, though his lips were turned into a smile.
"Hobbits," he muttered.
Merry gave them all a pointed look. "We're under orders from Treebeard, who has taken over management of Isenguard." Rosalie blinked. Who's Treebeard? Gandalf motioned with his head, and the two Hobbits scrambled down, joining the ranger and the wizard on their horses. With a sharp whistle, Shadowfax began to trot, the other horses following the Lord's lead.
The watchtower had been connected to a winding wall, spanning the reach of Saurman's tower, a grey pillar in the middle of a... Newly formed lake. Water rushed from a gaping wound in a dam built into the hillside a few miles away. It now only strolled past languidly, sometimes coaxing debris like fallen branches, chunks of stone and the occasional Orc weapon, rust already beginning to form. The strangest thing there was the... creatures there. Giant humanoid tree creatures waded through the water around them. Some were over twice her height, with bark for skin, moss escaping out of cracks like blood and long limbs that swung daintily in the breeze. Their faces were all different, some longer, others with more... Foliage, but they all had big golden eyes that stared down at the party as they rode past. None of the others paid any strange attention to them, so Rosalie ducked her head, twisting a small strand of deep blue between her fingers, the sun exposing the colour again after the long time in Helms Deep.
The horses jumped through it, creating ripples and splashing their riders, but they powered through the water. Gandalf's back was straight and stiff, giving an air of authority, and looking like he waded through water on horseback every day. A larger Tree... Thing was motionless, just staring up from the base of the tower. Dark green vines wrapped in layers of moss hung down around its shoulders.
It turned around as the party approached, dark bark eyebrows rising at them. "Young master Gandalf." It, or as she now realised, he sounded like he was sighing, drawing out every syllable. This, Rosalie guessed, was Treebeard. Young? Well, I guess in tree years he could be young... What does that make me? The wizard bowed his head. "I'm glad you've come." He turned back to the tower. "Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there is a wizard to master here. Locked in his tower." Treebeard nodded his great head.
Rosalie glanced up at the tower, straining her neck to see the top. "Show yourself," she heard Aragorn whisper. Gandalf gave him a sharp look.
"Be careful. Even at defeat, Saruman is dangerous." Éomer glanced worriedly at the wizard. Gimli glared up at the tower, shrugging a shoulder.
"Then let's just have his head and be done with it."
"No!" Gandalf retorted quickly. "We need him alive." The old man's gaze went back to the roof of the tower. "We need him to talk." Rosalie shivered at his words. A fleeting speck of white caught her attention, and she strained to see it clearly from this distance.
The blur on the top of the tower peered down at them. "You have thought many wars and slain many men, Théoden King, and made peace afterwards." the girl jumped at the deep voice echoing inside her mind. She wasn't the only one, Théoden looking startled, along with Gimli, Éomer and another of rider of the Rohirrim that had accompanied them. "Can we not take council together as we once did old friend? Can we not have peace you and I?"
Théoden grit his teeth, burning hatred in his eyes. Not after Helms Deep, jerk-wad. "We shall have peace..." The king murmured, looking at the watery depths below. Then his face turned upwards. "We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold! And the children that lie dead there!" He shouted up to the wizard. "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!" Théoden's cheeks were flushed by the time he finished, breathing heavily.
Rosalie sucked in a breath, green eyes darting to the white speck on top of his tower. She agreed with everything the King of Rohan had just said, but there was an angry wizard on the receiving end of that speech. She didn't need to see Saruman's face clearly to imagine the snarl.
"Gibbets and Crows... You dotard," he muttered darkly, and Rosalie almost didn't hear it. The white wizard turned his attention to Gandalf. "What do you want Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess: the Key of Orthanc? Or perhaps the keys to Barad-dûr itself, along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the Five wizards!" Saruman screamed, sounding incredibly sarcastic as he scowled down at them.
Gandalf pursed his lips. "Your treachery has cost many lives. Thousands more are now at risk - but you could save them Saruman." The wizard led Shadowfax forward a few steps. Nervously, Rosalie's horse skittered, edging closer to Aragorn's and Legolas'. "You were deep in the enemy's council-"
Saruman's bitter laugh cut Gandalf short. "So you have come here for information?" He asked mockingly, the kind of tone that came with a crazy gleam in someone's eyes. "I have some for you," he promised evilly. A hand dove into his pocket, pulling out a giant black orb. Gandalf took a step back, but the girl frowned. What's so scary about a black ball?
"Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth, something you have failed to see." Saruman murmured, almost to himself. He paused, and then glanced down at the little group, smiling wickedly. "But the Great Eye has seen it. Even now, he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You're all going to die."
Rosalie gulped. The words had the desired effect; a quiet whisper ran through their party before the elf squashed it with a violent glare. She could only see the back of Gandalf's head, but he didn't look moved by Saruman's twisted promise.
The white wizard seemed to realise this as well, cocking his head slightly to one side. "But you know this, don't you Gandalf?" He sounded like he was smiling, the smug bastard. God, if I was close enough and had the confidence, I'd smack that smirk off your face.
"You cannot think that this ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor?" Saruman tossed his head in Aragorn's direction. Rosalie stiffened, glancing at the man from under her eyelashes. His jaw was taunt, eyes trained solely on the tower, not ever wavering. "This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned King. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him. Those he professes to love."
A strange tension was born, and Rosalie glanced at a few other members, noting that the two Hobbits were doing the same. An uneasy feeling settled in her stomach, something a little too true rang in the snake's words. Don't listen to him, he wants to break us.
Saruman smiled sickly, staring down at the group. He could already see their trust and faith crumbling like walls. He only had one more thing to say to watch them fall into chaos from his perfect vantage point. "Tell me," he hissed, "what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom?" He asked, smirking triumphantly. He did not need the eyes of an elf to see their reactions. "The path you have set him on can only lead to death."
The dwarf was the first to break. "I've heard enough!" He growled, leaning closer to Legolas. "Shoot him. Stick an arrow in his gob!" Without a word, the elf loaded his bow. Mentally Rosalie urged him on, even if she knew it was wrong. Gandalf's head spun. "No!" He scolded us before turning back to Saruman. "Come down Saruman," he pleaded. "And your life will be spared."
Saruman turned up his nose. "Save your pity and your mercy! I have no use for it!" He shouted. Suddenly, the wizard's hand shot out, flames writhing, flying straight at Gandalf. They encompassed him, wriggling angrily and Rosalie screamed. The horses reared, backing off, but the tongues of scarlet disappeared, disintegrated and the white wizard and his white horse, named Shadowfax, emerged unharmed. Aragorn's shoulders slumped in relief and Merry and Pippin let out matching cries of happiness. Gandalf's focus never wandered from Saruman and his tower though, the two wizards locked in a staring competition, two warring minds both seeming on the verge of breaking.
"Saruman," he chided the older wizard as if he was a child. "Your staff is broken." Saruman dropped it like it was burning, the wood turning to dust. The wizard scrambled back from the edge and another figure edged forwards. Deathly pale, draped in darkness against the beaming blue sky, Rosalie's eyes widened in recognition. Wormtongue? He was working for Saruman, would make sense he'd come here when banished from Rohan.
Théoden recognised him as well. "Gríma, you need not follow him," He said soothingly. "You were not always as you are now. You were once a Man of Rohan. Come down." Saruman chuckled bitterly at the King's words.
"A man of Rohan," he taunted mockingly. "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?" Everyone stiffened at the wizard's words, and from the corner of her eyes, the girl could see Éomer's hand trailing to his grip his sword. "The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you Théoden Horse-Master. You are the lesser son of greater sires." The blonde man gulped, pleading eyes never wavering from the pale man crouched behind the wizard.
"Gríma, come down. Be free of him." His blue eyes shone with sincerity and Wormtongue hesitated. Saruman scoffed.
"Free? He will never be free?" Wormtongue frowned up at the older man, hurt evident even to Rosalie.
"No," he moaned, and the white wizard glared at him.
"Get down cur," Saruman muttered, scowling. His hand lashed out, striking with incredible speed, and the man stumbled back. In that moment, after everything that happened, Rosalie felt sorry for the man. He was a traitor, yes, swapping sides easily, swayed by Saruman's false promises. He did it for power, to not seem so insignificant next to men like Éomer and Aragorn; the great heroes of mankind, something Rosalie understood very well - the feeling of being unimportant and meaningless. That was what motivated him- to overcome it, to free himself of bullies, but all it got him was a bigger bully in the form of Saruman.
Gandalf jumped back into the conversation. "You were deep in the enemy's counsel, tell us what you know." He repeated, sounding like a broken record. Rosalie rolled her eyes, isn't it kind of obvious he's not gonna give us anything Gandalf? You're wasting your time.
Saruman smirked mirthlessly at him. "You withdraw your guard and I will tell you where your doom will be decided- I will not be held prisoner here." A blur of black and white dashed at Saruman, pushing something that gleamed silver in the light into his back. Gríma gritted his teeth as Saruman's mouth fell open, no words coming out, and the man pulled out the blade before thrusting it back in again. Instantly, Legolas knocked an arrow into his bow, firing upwards. It hit its mark, Gríma staring wordlessly at the wood jutting out of his chest. He toppled backwards as Saruman toppled forwards. His robes billowed outwards, hair flying energetically around his lifeless face. He stopped as he crashed onto the water wheel at the base of his tower, impaled on one of the spikes, blood seeping sluggishly into his clothes.
Rosalie gaped at his dead body, and the sudden silence they were caught in. Gimli broke it, grunting, not caring for the two deaths, but the girl was still transfixed. Even Théoden was shocked, his horse taking a few steps back, spooked by the sudden body that dropped like a rock from the sky.
Gandalf sighed, and then turned Shadowfax around. "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." The water wheel creaks to life, dragging the corpse of Saruman with it. The dark stone the scared Gandalf dropped into the water but no one seemed to notice, except Pippin and Rosalie, who really only noticed because of the way the Hobbit watched it fall.
Treebeard's massive head surveyed the scene. "The filth of Saruman is washing away. Trees will come back to live here. Young trees, wise trees-" He was cut off by Aragorn frantically hissing Pippin's name. What are you doing?
The little Hobbit had jumped into the water, searching for something, and Rosalie's stomach dropped. No, not the rock Pippin. It belonged to Saruman, which alone makes it bad news. Unfortunately, Pippin didn't seem to hear the thoughts she mentally shouted at him, his small hands diving in after the stone, pulling it out. Gandalf inhaled sharply, but Rosalie just peered at it curiously, though not with the same intensity Pippin did.
"Bless my bark," Treebeard breathed.
"Peregrin Took," the Hobbit jumped at Gandalf's stern use of his name. "I'll take that, my lad." Pippin looked hurt at his words, glancing down at the orb. "Quickly now." The wizard chided, and reluctantly, Pippin handed it over. Gandalf wrapped it in a cloth, hiding it from the world, but that didn't stop Pippin's curious stare and the funny feeling tightening in Rosalie's gut, knowing just how inquisitive Hobbits could be.