A/N: It saddens me to admit, but I don't own Lord of the Rings.
***Chapter 3***
**Deirdre's POV**
A groan escaped my lips as I slowly came back to consciousness, feeling most intimately the pain brewing in my head. It felt as though there was a group of Dwarven miners searching for Mithril, and my skull was the rock that was hiding it.
My eyes fluttered open, expensive drapery filled my sight and I took in the feel of the comfortable bed beneath me. It took a moment to realize where I was, Mordor. I couldn't entirely remember what happened before I fell asleep. After being brought to the black land by Nazgul I was shown to my room, a memory triggered of being visited by the grotesque Mouth of Sauron but after that everything was fuzzy.
I tried to shake off the feeling that I was missing something, but I couldn't think what it could be. Rising from the bed, I made my way over to the vanity which rested against one of the walls in my chambers. The mirror reflected back what I normally remembered, except I was wearing a beautiful pendant with a blood colored gem in the center. My fingers ran along the elegant vines which weaved around the gem, it reminded me of finger bones in a strange way. As soon as my fingers brushed against the stone in the center the memory of what it was came back to me. It was a betrothal gift from Sauron, so it was necessary that I wear it.
After finding the bathing room, which contained a bath steaming enticingly, I decided to evaluate what was going to happen. As the water soothed my skin and muscles and delightful scents wound their way up from the oils that I had poured in the water, my mind traveled to Isenguard where very soon my friends would discover I was not there. Each of their faces flashed before my face, but as each progressing face stood before my mind's eye an intense feeling filled me. It was longing or loyalty as I had been feeling throughout my entire time away from them, but instead a feeling of animosity and fury filled me.
Even the innocent faces of Merry and Pippin angered me, why hadn't they been to Isenguard sooner? They could have saved me from my fate in Mordor. And Gandalf, the white wizard if he was so great and powerful where was he when I needed him? Chasing around stray horsemen.
Deciding that this train of thought was going to do nothing but anger me, I began scrubbing my skin so that there wasn't a trace of dirt on it. My mind remaining blank as I ensured my attention remained elsewhere.
**Saffy's POV**
After our rather lengthy tales of what had happened with each our party and we had all been filled to the brim with food from Saruman's store room, we were interrupted by Eomer poking his head through the open doorway.
"Gandalf was wondering if you were all ready to speak with Saruman, now that you have all fed and caught up." Eomer said, clearly somewhat annoyed that he was forced to play messenger.
"Of course, we will be right there." Aragorn answered for our party.
Eomer nodded his head and disappeared. Slowly, we all made our way out of the old guard dining hall that we had been using. I mounted my horse after placing Pippin on the saddle before me, my eyes traveled over to where Merry was now being placed on Aragorn's horse. Once our party was mounted up and moving forward, I glanced over at Legolas. His face was impassive but I could still see the anxiety dwelling in his eyes mixing with hope.
That same hope burned in my heart; wanting Deirdre to be here, wanting an explanation for why she left, but most of all wanting to see my best friend safe and sounds. I looked towards the tower of Orthanc as our party moved forward, my arms grasping the reins on either side of Pippin, trapping him in the saddle.
Gandalf sat astride Shadowfax talking with both Theoden and Eomer when we neared them, his attention immediately turned to us and his expression grew serious.
"Be careful, even in defeat Saruman is dangerous." Gandalf warned, his eyes darting over to the tower before back to us.
"Well then, let's have his head and be done with it." Gimli growled, releasing his pent up anger.
"No, we need him alive. We need him to talk." Gandalf stated solemnly as though he was going to torture the truth out of Saruman himself.
Before we could say anything else, Saruman's voice floated down from the roof of the tower, he stood in a white robe that hinted at containing more colors in the light, his beard was streaked with black while his hair was entirely white. Even from over a hundred feet below him, his features were sinisterly set, a great hooked nose sat upon his face. The wizard held a black staff in his hand, seeming almost to need it to stand, yet there was still power radiating off of the wizard.
"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Theoden King, and made peace afterwards. Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend?" His deep baritone voice came out saccharine.
My eyes danced over to Theoden who seemed to be contemplating Saruman's words. I felt bile rise in my throat as I thought about the lies that the wizard oozed, trying to win over the affection of his captors after he attempted to wipe every man, woman, and child of Rohan from the face of Middle Earth.
"We shall have peace…" Theoden said, earning shocked looks from everyone in our party and a pleased smile to make its way across Saruman's face. "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!"
By the end of Theoden's tirade, the smirk that had crossed his face had been replaced by a look of pure unadulterated fury.
"Gibbets and crows! Dotard! What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess… the key to Orthanc? Or perhaps the keys to Barad-dur itself? Along with the crowns of the seven Kings and the rods of the five Wizards." Saruman taunted Gandalf sarcastically.
"Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more are not at risk. But you could save them, Saruman. You were deep in the Enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!" Gandalf requested logically.
"So you have come here for information. I have some for you." Saruman announced as he raised a black orb in his hand and held it out just over the edge of the tower. "Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the great Eye has seen it. Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You are all going to die. But you know this, don't you Gandalf. You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept forth from the shadows will never be crowned King."
Aragorn sidled his horse slightly forward, earning the attention of Saruman as he glared down at the heir of Numenor.
"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those who are closest to him… those he professes to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death." Saruman finished.
"I've heard enough. Shoot him! Stick an arrow in his gob." Gimli cried, causing Legolas to reach for his weapons.
"No! Come down Saruman, and your life will be spared." Gandalf ordered his eyes staying fixed on Saruman's figure.
**Grima Wormtongue's POV**
Slowly, ever so slowly I had crept up behind Saruman so that I could see who all had come to Isenguard. My eyes settled on Eomer, the horse lord who was never anything but a thorn in my side and I sneered. He was the prodigal son of Rohan, title and women were his without even trying. Not even banishment could keep the captain away from his land. Rage filled me as I looked at him, his helmet bearing a horse tail plume which was held with such high regard. How was it that some people had all the luck, he had everything a man could ever dream of and had done nothing for it. While me, I had made a deal with the devil and in return I get beaten like a stray dog.
Revulsion struck me as I heard those words, that Saruman would be spared. A monster like him who bred destruction and hatred, a betrayer of men with sweet words that tempted the soul. But no one would remember about Wormtongue. Or worse yet, it would be as the dark lady had said and I would be cast aside. Never to gain the promised reward for my involvement in the destruction of much of Rohan, but to be thrown away like rotted food.
"Save your pity, and your mercy. I have no use for it." Saruman roared, aiming his staff down at the party below and sending a bolt of fire at the new white wizard.
The being that I had been tempted by was insane, casting away a chance at escape. He signed our death warrants. But then again, he could always keep himself locked away in the tower for years, waiting for a chance to sneak past the Ent guards which watched over us now.
I moved ever closer to the edge, now able to see the party below in full. None had seemed to take notice of my form, so my eyes went to Gandalf as all around him the fire that had burned dissipated and left not even a scorch mark upon himself or his horse.
"Saruman, your staff is broken."
As the sentence left the wizards mouth I heard a cracking, I glanced over at Saruman and the black staff which he had wielded so proudly began to splinter in his hands breaking apart and falling through his hands. I gawked at the display of power from the wizard; the one that Saruman had planned to throw away for his use was spent. Her words came back once more as I thought about what little use I had compared to a great wizard. A familiar voice broke me out of my train of thought.
"Grima! You need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan. Come down." Theoden spoke clearly, ignoring the enraged wizard standing beside me and looking at my pitiful form.
Hope blossomed in my chest and I knew that it began to fill my eyes. Perhaps Eomer is not the only person who can return from banishment. Even though I had aided in the destruction of his country, the king offered me an escape. There was a slight fear of punishment at the hands of the Rohirrim, but it was slight compared to the desire to be rid of the heinous being with his hollow promises.
"A man of Rohan?" Saruman scoffs, breaking through my train of thought. "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 Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Theoden Horse Master. You are a lesser son of greater sires."
I feared that Saruman's words just ruined my chance of freedom from Isenguard when I looked at Theoden. His face was hard and there was anger in his eyes, but when he spoke his voice was calm and directed at me instead of the wizard.
"Grima, come down. Be free of him."
I was just beginning to nod my head that I would do just that and leave Saruman and his devilry behind, find my place among everyone else in Rohan, where I would not be treated as a whipping boy.
"Free? He will never be free!" Saruman declared, crushing any hope of release from torment.
"No!" the cry broke my lips before I consciously thought it as I leapt from Saruman in anger.
"Get down, cur." Saruman ordered, his hand connecting with my face before knocking me to the ground.
I fell harshly onto the roof of the tower, colliding painfully with the stone. While the pain spread through most of my body, it centralized its peak to the left side of my waist. I had landed against a dagger that I carried with me all the time, in case the need for a weapon ever arose. My fingers dug beneath the layers of my robe and found the cold metal of the hilt. I pulled the blade slowly from its sheath, watching the light reflect upon the shining blade.
"Saruman! You were deep within the enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!" Gandalf's voice pierced the air, but my focus was elsewhere.
Soon my shining blade would no longer be pristine, but coated in the blood of a foe. Crimson rivulets would stream across the metal as it slides its way through the flesh of Saruman. I doubt I would ever get more satisfaction than letting his blood stain his once pure robes.
"You withdraw your guard and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here." Saruman proclaimed, slowly weaseling his way out of captivity. "But still it will matter not. Your greatest ally is now safe within the tower of Barad-dur. And when she leads the armies of Mordor, the streets will run with the blood of the innocent."
I rose from my place on the ground slowly approaching Saruman's back, waiting for the satisfying moment that would soon be within my reach.
"What have you done to Deirdre?" a voice which had not spoken yet called, it was male and yet smoother than most, belonging to the male elf among the party.
"Only fulfilled her desires. The lady of Mordor will make you all rue the day that you were conceived. There will be no greater strength than the dark lord with his bloodthirsty lady at his side." Saruman answered in reply.
I could feel the contentment radiating off of Saruman as he felt proud of what he had shared with them. Creeping every closer, I raised the knife into the air, the silver metal catching the light from the sun as I brought it down. He cried out in pain, the knife slid into his flesh and nicked the bones in his torso. With a great shove, I sent the wizard off of the tower, soaring down to the lake below.
A smile found its way to my lips before it was replaced by a cry of pain. Searing pain poured from my chest as I stumbled back slightly before collapsing to the stone. Looking down, I saw the arrow sticking from my chest. It burned around the protrusion, stealing the warmth from my feet and hands first as the blood pumped from my flesh. My hand raised and tenderly laid it across my chest which now leaked my life. It came up crimson as I looked at it.
Death wasn't too bad so far. Dying not entirely what I expected. There was a sense of peace to it. That if nothing else at least I accomplished something with the final act of my life. A small smile came to my face as I thought about the abusive woman that had spent time in Isenguard. True, she may be evil but without her I would not be feeling this peace right now. I had defeated Saruman, disposed of him before he could dispose of me.
Tranquility settled over me. I would spend the rest of my life and afterlife atop this tower. There would be no one to save me or bury my remains. But the thought slipped away like the blood that was pooling around my body.
It was still painful, but I took another shallow breath not moving my chest too much. My eyes closed to block out the sun. Where was its warmth? Which normally heated flesh on even the coldest of winter days. It was doing nothing to my chilling body. The heat which flowed through my veins now lay around my body. That was death. Cold.
***End Chapter 3***
I hope that you are enjoying the story so far. Read and Review please.