another chapter!
Legolas guided Arod over the roots, gaze sweeping the trees. His keen ears detected the faint sounds of laughter, but he could not be sure of whom it belonged to. Gimli clung to his back, seeming frightened, but remaining silent. Hasufel and Shadowfax walked before Arod, their riders also scanning their surroundings.
The laughter came again as Gandalf steered Shadowfax out of the trees, before a massive hole in the walls of Isengard. Two hobbits sat there, smoking their pipes and holding mugs of ale. Pippin held up his mug and gave a shout of welcome. Merry heaved himself up and called, "Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" He gestured behind him, swaying slightly.
"You young rascals!" Gimli bellowed. Legolas would have said something similar, but his eyes were sweeping the walls for Tirnel. His heart sank; she was not there. "A merry hunt you've led us on, and now we find you feasting and-and smoking!" The dwarf gesticulated wildly with his axe as he spoke, nearly falling.
"We are sitting," Pippin began, mouth full of food, "on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts." Merry grinned, smoke floating out of his mouth. "The salted pork is particularly good," Pippin added.
"Salted pork?" Gimli asked, his manner changing instantly.
"Hobbits," Gandalf grumbled.
"We're under orders, from Treebeard," Merry told them, "who's taken over management of Isengard. We'll take you to him."
The hobbits scrambled onto the horses of Aragorn and Éomer, then directed Gandalf into the shallow water that filled Isengard. As they neared the tower, a tree with arms and legs advanced towards them: an ent. Legolas watched in amazement as it spoke.
"Young master Gandalf. I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone, I can master. But there is a wizard to manage here, locked in his tower."
"Show yourself," Aragorn muttered, eyes narrowed and searching the tower's walls.
"Be careful," Gandalf warned. "Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous."
"Then let's just have his head and be done with it!" Gimli snapped. Legolas agreed, but said nothing.
"No," Gandalf said. "We need him alive." Éomer shot the wizard an incredulous glance. "We need him to talk."
A voice spoke from above. "You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden King, and made peace afterwards. May we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?" Saruman had appeared atop his tower, leaning on his staff and gazing down at the party.
"We shall have peace," Théoden began, not looking at the evil wizard. "We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold, and the children that lie dead there!" He was glaring now at Saruman. "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, aye, then we shall have peace."
"Gibbets and crows," Saruman sneered. "Dotard! What do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess; the Key of Orthanc, or perhaps the Keys of Barad-dur itself? Along with the crowns of the Seven Kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!"
"Your treachery has already cost many lives," Gandalf called. Please do not let Tirnel's be one of them, Legolas thought. A wave of guilt swept through him as he thought this. "Thousands more are now at risk. You can save them. You were deep in the Enemy's counsel."
"So, you have come here for information," Saruman said, smiling slightly. "I have some for you." He thrust out one hand, in which a dark orb sat, seemingly filled with fire. Legolas could feel the dark magic from the ground. "Something festers in the heart of Middle-earth," Saruman said. "Something that you have failed to see. The Great Eye has seen it. Even now," he continued, hiding the orb, "he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon." Gandalf approached the Tower's base. "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." Aragorn glared at the wizard. "This exile, crept from the shadows will never be crowned king. Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those closest to him." Legolas's stomach twisted. Did he know that Tirnel was Gandalf's friend? Had she been sacrificed? "Those he professes to love." Saruman laid a delicate stress on the word, cruel smile widening. "Tell me; what words of comfort did you give the Halfling, before you sent him to his doom? The path you have set him on can only lead to death." Gandalf lowered his head, seeming to realize this fully.
"I've heard enough," Gimli snarled, startling all present. "Shoot him," he said to Legolas. "Stick an arrow in his gut." Legolas reached for his bow, eyes narrowed in hatred, fully intending to pepper the twisted Maia.
"No!" Gandalf snapped. He turned back to the wizard atop the tower. "Come down, Saruman, and you life will be spared."
"Save your pity and your mercy!" Saruman yelled. "I have no use for it!" He directed the end of his staff towards Gandalf, shooting flames out of it. They engulfed Gandalf and Shadowfax, and the rest of the party, all of whom had their weapons ready, drew back.
The flames receded, leaving an unharmed horse and rider behind. "Saruman," Gandalf called again, almost sadly. "Your staff is broken."
The staff that Saruan clung to shattered in his hands, leaving him shaking and furious. A man appeared behind him, dragging with him the form of a semiconscious elf. Legolas felt a surge of emotion in his mind, and he recognized them as not his own, but the emotions of his sister. Wormtongue had a knife to her throat and seemed to be waiting for a command.
"Gríma!" Théoden called. "You need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan!" The king's voice dropped. "Let her go. Come down."
"A man," Saruman mocked, "of Rohan. What is the House of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink and reek, and the brats roll on the floor with the dogs? The victory at Helm's Deep does not belong to you, Théoden Horsemaster! You are a lesser son of greater sires."
"Gríma," Théoden said again, ignoring the wizard's insults with some effort. "Come down. Be free of him."
"Free?" Saruman said, fury twisting his features. "He will never be free. Nor shall the elf."
"No," Gríma said quietly, taking the knife from Tirnel's throat.
"Get back, cur!" Saruman yelled, and hit Gríma across the face. The wizard grabbed Tirnel's arm as she fell and pulled her up. She tried to loosen his hand, but he tightened his grip, making her cry out in pain. Legolas had an arrow between his fingers almost before he knew it. Tirnel's emotions called out to him, begging for him to kill the wizard.
"Saruman!" Gandalf called. "You were deep in the Enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know."
"You withdraw your guard, and I will tell you where your doom will be decided. I will not be held prisoner here! But I shall make you another deal, Greyhame. Give me the Ring and millions, starting with Mirkwood's royal bastard, will not be killed." Legolas felt the arrow slip from between his fingers and dimly heard it land in the water. The wizard smiled cruelly. "Ah, and the other child is here, too. How touching." Aragorn and Gandalf were gazing, clearly horrorstruck, up at Saruman.
"Let her go, Saruman!" Gimli bellowed. "She's done nothing to you!" Saruman smiled, seeming to be amused. Legolas readied another arrow.
"An elf, being defended by a dwarf? This is very interesting. Do tell, Master dwarf, how did this come to be?" He smirked down at Gimli, who had begun to growl. "I am waiting for your answer, Gandalf. Tell me where the Ring is. Gríma will bring her down, as soon as you tell me." A light spread from Saruman's hand, pulsing through Tirnel's arm and making her yelp in pain. A sharp sting echoed through Legolas's head, making him wince.
"No!" Wormtongue had lunged forward, knife ready, and stabbed the wizard twice in the back before yanking Tirnel away from the edge and raising his knife again.
Legolas quickly raised his bow and shot, hitting Gríma in the chest. The man fell back with a cry of pain. Saruman fell slowly forwards off the edge of Orthanc, spinning head over heels, and landed with a sickening thud on a spiked wheel at its base, adding an awful finality to his death. The hobbits gasped in revulsion, but Legolas was gazing up at the tower, eyes narrowed: Tirnel's emotions had relaxed, but he barely felt her at all.
"Send word to all our allies," Gandalf said to Théoden, "and to every corner of Middle-earth that still stands free. The enemy moves against us, we need to know where he will strike." A twinge of pain appeared in Legolas's mind, and his own panic responded. Had Wormtongue survived the arrow, and was even now threatening Tirnel?
He leapt off his horse, disregarding the shocked yell of Gimli and Gandalf's cry of warning, sprinting up the stairs at Orthanc's base and into the Tower itself. "Mithrandir!" he yelled. "How do you get to the top?"
Gandalf joined him in the Tower, pointing towards a long staircase. Legolas ran to it and up them as fast as he could, panic surging through his veins and making his head pound. He burst into a large chamber that had a plinth in the middle, a cloth placed on it. The cloth had an indentation in its center, as though something had lain there. A door stood open beside Legolas, and he glanced into a room that held a table and other things cluttering it. On the table were Tirnel's boots and stockings. He snatched them up and returned to the main room, where Gandalf was ascending another staircase.
The top of the stairs were capped with a trapdoor, which Gandalf pushed open. The wind buffeted Legolas and blew his hair into his face as he scanned the platform, eyes catching sight of two crumpled figures near the edge. He ran to them, forgetting Gandalf behind him, and crouched before the first. It was Gríma, and Legolas gave him a nudge to make sure he was dead: He was. Legolas stood again and hurried to the other figure.
Tirnel was barely conscious, eyes fluttering as she tried to make sense of who was kneeling over her. Legolas swept his cloak off, folding it and placing it behind his sister's head. "Tirnel, please wake. It is Legolas. Please Tirnel, please wake," he muttered, brushing hair out of her face. He tried not to look at her legs, torn by whips and burned by salt. He had known a fraction of that pain once, when he had cut himself in the palace's kitchens as an elfling and stuck his hand into a jar, thinking it was sugar. But to have been whipped and the salt ground in by orcs… Legolas shuddered at the thought.
She tried to move, but Legolas placed his hands on her shoulders. Her lips were bloody and cracked, but she managed to whisper to him. "Gwanor nîn. Is it...is it you?"
He could have sobbed in relief. "Yes, Tirnel. I am here. Oh, man agorer angin? Can you sit up?" He put one hand behind her head, trying to support her as she attempted to sit. She fell back, though, gasping in pain as her legs touched the floor. "Here." He carefully wedged an arm under her knees, then got her to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling her close with one arm around her torso. Standing, he turned to see Gandalf already descending the stairs. Legolas followed him, careful to keep his arm from grazing Tirnel's wounds. Gríma's body stayed silent and still, completely forgotten.
The three of them exited the base of Orthanc, where the horses still waited. Aragorn muttered something in Sindarin, his eyes wide, and dismounted. He removed Gimli from Arod and put him on Shadowfax, then sloshed over to help Legolas get Tirnel onto Arod. The hobbits were staring at her, clearly horrified by her sacrifice to keep them safe. Théoden and Éomer were looking at the unconscious elfling, evidently in shock. To them, the notion that a female would subject herself to such torture in order to protect others was unprecedented.
Aragorn and Legolas managed to sit Tirnel up on Arod's back, then Aragorn held her still while Legolas mounted behind her. Gandalf mounted Shadowfax, and Aragorn Hasufel, and they sped away from Orthanc, back east towards Edoras.
translation
man agorer angin? = what has happened to you?