The Fire of Orthanc

Lily wished she had paid better attention during professor Binns' classes. She was sharing the breakfast table with one of the darkest wizards known to the Wizarding world, and yet all she knew about him was a short list of facts, of which many were most likely not even true. She preferred to stay out of his way as much as possible, but it proved to be hard once Saruman had fully understood the length of her power. They would have her take his staff. Have her show that she could uproot trees with ease. Move boulders out of the way to deepen the pits. Have the wind return to rekindle the fires of the forges after a downpour of rain. They had even shown her the power of her own potions, by having two Orcs fight with each other, and have one die with a mere graze of the blade. She despised the Orcs, but it made her sad to see how they held no love for their own kind.

They were scheming. She knew that much. Saruman and Pallando would often be seen walking together, speaking in whispers. The persuasive power of Saruman had made Pallando believe with ease that Sauron would have the upper hand in this war. They had spoken to her about it too, and she would nod along in agreement while reminding herself of the dark forces of her own world. She would not believe it, for she knew the Rohirrim were strong, and there was bound to be some good left in this world willing to fight along their side.

She thought of Éowyn and Gísli, and of all the others she had met in Rohan. No matter how brief the time had been that she was a part of them, she still felt like she belonged with them, and hoped they had not forgotten her. She longed for Gísli's words of wisdom, and of Éowyn's friendship. To see the bravery of the Men of Rohan once more, and wondered if King Théoden was still alive.

'Gríma,' Lily called out. 'Now that you are no longer in Edoras to poison King Théoden, do you know what has become of him?'

Gríma was sprawled out on the ground, bored from the many long hours she took to brew the poisons. 'There are more ways to control the mind of the King,' he answered. 'I cannot go back, so it lies in the hands of Saruman now.'

Lily kicked Gríma in the leg, causing him to hiss at her. 'I want to know if he's alive,' she demanded.

'You do not control my words, Witch,' Gríma spat back at her as he sat up straight. 'But my snakes are there, and he is alive, for they have told me so. Anything else you wish to know before you kick me again?'

'How is Éowyn?' she asked. 'And be honest, or I'll kick you in the head too.'

'In a foul mood, are we?' Gríma growled.

'Sorry,' she muttered stiffly. 'I am in a foul mood. Sometimes I am reminded that it was you who took me here. Away from a place that was safe, and good. And now you have become my shadow, and I hate you for it. I hate everything here!'

'Éowyn walks around with a heavy heart,' said Gríma, ignoring her angry outburst. 'Does that satisfy your thirst for knowledge?'

'It's not nice, using your snakes to spy on her,' said Lily, 'but I appreciate your answer nonetheless.'

Gríma stood up and handed her his dagger. 'Do you want me to stab you with this?' she asked as she took it from him. 'Because I feel like I could.'

'Lady Éowyn can wield a sword with both elegance and grace,' he said, dismissing her words. 'You, however, still stumble like a newborn fawn. I suggest you keep practising the art.'

Lily felt her grip around the dagger strengthening. They would practise from time to time, and although she felt that she was getting better, she still found it hard to keep up, and he overpowered her with ease.

'Daggers in the hands of witches are no idle thing,' said Pallando from behind her. 'Why would you have her wield such a weapon, Wormtongue?'

Lily swiftly turned around and looked up at the tall man before her. 'Because I am of no use to any of you if I'm dead,' she said before Gríma could speak.

Pallando smiled down at her. 'Come, walk with me,' he demanded. 'We have some things to discuss.'

Knowing better than to step on Pallando's toes, Lily tossed the dagger back to Gríma and trudged behind him in defeat. 'I suppose you found a way to make use of me,' she said as soon as Gríma was out of earshot.

'The siege on Rohan draws nearer,' said Pallando. 'You must know by now that you can be at the forefront of it all. Your loyalty to the people of Rohan is the only thing standing in your way of taking it.'

'I hold no desire to rule any of it,' said Lily. She had tried hard to sound convincing of her new allegiance, but she knew she was never as good at lying as Severus had been. They fully understood that she would never willingly wield her power over people who had cared for her, no matter what she told them. 'I just want it to be over with, so that I can go home.'

'What if I promise to take you to Alatar after it is done?' he said. 'You do this for us, and then we can make our way to Rivendell.'

'Then I'd say you're a liar at best,' said Lily with a scoff. 'If I were to aid Isengard in the siege of Rohan, what's there to stop you from using me to conquer other places? You release me, and I could easily turn my power against you!'

'Not without a staff, you won't,' said Pallando. He stopped walking and looked her right in the eye. 'And your desire to return home clearly outweighs the need to aid a place you barely know. Tell me, miss Evans, how well do you know me, aside from the silly little facts that you were taught at that great school of yours?'

'Clearly not enough,' said Lily. 'What's in it for you to to take me there?'

'The answer to that lies at the very beginning,' said Pallando, 'and the tale is long. Alatar, Saruman and I once travelled to the far East and South together. Alatar was chosen by Oromë. Not wanting to part from me, he brought me with him here to Middle-earth. It was our task to circumvent Sauron. Wainriders. Balchoth. Haradrim. Those were but a few of the many scattered tribes of Easterlings and Southrons we encountered there. Torn and divided they were. They fought wars amongst each other over territorial disputes, and were easily deceived by Sauron under false promises. He would tell one tribe that he would aid them to regain their land, and do the same for the others, causing havoc and destruction amongst them.'

'Why did Alatar not want to part from you?' asked Lily genuinely. 'I understand that your shared history is much longer than what I've been taught at school. I just don't understand his motives.'

'I will come to that,' said Pallando, and something in his pale blue eyes shifted. 'Saruman, our leader then and now, chose to go back to the West and settled here in Isengard, believing that the two of us could handle the dire situation by ourselves. The reason for his believe in us, is because of Alatar. The wastelands turned to pastures in his presence. The sun would cast her light on the very ground he walked on, and all this time I could not understand the reason why. The People of the East and South, they started worshipping our magic. It was easy to make them bend to my will. Desperate they were to find a solution to all the terrible losses they had suffered, and some I had persuaded to abandon Sauron, and to follow me in his stead.'

'Which goes against the ruling of the Valar,' said Lily. 'You told me the story of your exile when you came here. And then you both arrived in the Land of the Wizards.'

'You already know where this is going, don't you?' said Pallando. 'I can see it in your eyes.'

'I know you don't care for taking me back to Alatar,' said Lily. 'The Ring is there – and you want it for yourself. You want to use me after Saruman is done with me!'

A dark cloud rose up from behind Pallando. He seemed to grow taller, and his pale blue eyes turned to black. 'I WANT HIM TO LOVE ME LIKE HE ONCE DID!' he said in blinding anger. 'To go back to the Undying Lands before Middle-earth tore us apart! Without the Ring I cannot cross the Great Sea!'

Lily stood frozen in fear, but she refused to look away from him. 'Alatar hid it from you for a reason,' she said quietly, yet her she took on a brave stance against him. 'I don't know if Severus has given the Ring back to him or not, but I don't believe that neither of them will give it to you willingly.'

The darkness faded from his eyes, but the dark cloud still lingered. 'You have but two choices before you,' he said. 'Either you will fight with us, or your last chance to return home will sail on without you.'

...o0o…

By nightfall, Lily had locked herself up in her room. She had believed it was Saruman who had convinced Pallando to join the dark forces of Sauron, but now she was not so sure. It was Pallando who was gaining Saruman's trust instead. Working his way up to revealing the return of Kémya to him, knowing that Alatar had hidden it from him too. A Ring so powerful it would guarantee Isengard protection from the outside world. It would become an impenetrable fortress. Helping Saruman strengthen his forces, would only benefit him to obtain the Ring.

She looked at herself in the scrying mirror. She knew there was no choosing in whatever choice Pallando had given her. He could no longer wield his power, or risk getting exiled again. His only chance to regain his immortality in the Undying Lands would be to obtain the Ring, and as history had shown, he would do so by any means necessary. She was trapped between the great powers of Middle-earth, and was now destined to become part of its dark history.

She wasn't sure if it were a figment of her imagination, but once in a while she could see Severus looking back at her through the mirror. It felt reassuring, even though she held many questions for him. What role he played in all of this perhaps most of all. 'What would you have done?' she asked the mirror. 'You were always the one stuck between a rock and hard place.'

I'd turn to you. She heard the memory of his voice echo in her head. And he had always turned to her. Whenever his troubles at home had turned for the worst, he would turn to her. When the relentless bullying at school had gotten the best of him, he would turn to her. And whenever there was something to feel good about, he would turn to her too. You reckless Gryffindor.

To be reckless. He had called her that on numerous occasions, and had laughed whenever she had gotten herself in trouble again. The situation she was in, however, was of no laughing matter, and yet she couldn't help but smile as his face faded away from the mirror. Reckless she would have to be. It was either now – or never.

With a twirl she cloaked herself with the red cloak Saruman had given her, and put on the hood to cover her hair. She tiptoed out of her room, the door falling soundlessly back in its lock as she closed it. Once she was certain there were no snakes slithering by her feet, she rushed her way down the many flights of stairs. She found that Saruman would often leave his staff lingering when he had no need for it. An absolute flaw in his own judgement of her, she thought. She could hear the two Wizards talking by the time she reached Saruman's quarters. Their conversation must have run deep, as all it took was a swift motion with her arm to reach for the staff that was leaning against the wall by the door, and he took no notice of it being gone. There was no turning back now.

With as much courage as she could muster, she walked straight out of the entrance and made her way towards the pits. 'I need Uglúk!' she commanded to an Orc. 'Bring him to me!' The Orc rushed his way down while she followed closely behind. Halfway down the pits she saw Uglúk coming to her, eyeing the staff she held in her hands.

'Saruman has sent me!' she said as she rushed her way up to him. 'He needs to know how many Fires of Orthanc have been made.'

'Two have been made,' said Uglúk. 'They sleep in a dark chamber.'

'Take me to it.'

Uglúk took the lead. They walked past the Warg pit, their terrible screams filling the chambers. They continued down many dark tunnels before reaching the chamber Uglúk had mentioned. The air inside of it felt cold and wet. 'I need only one to test to see if it is strong enough,' she lied through her teeth. The creation before her reminded her of sea mines; its spikes as deadly as the mixture within. She pointed the staff at it, and raised the heavy orb off of the ground. 'You may lead me back now.'

Uglúk seemed hesitant. It would not take long for Saruman to figure out that she had stolen his staff, and the Orcs would be sent after her. She only had one shot at this, and whatever came next would either be her victory or her downfall.

With the Fire of Orthanc floating between her and Uglúk she climbed her way back up. The rush she had felt from taking the staff was now turning into tension. She tried to steady her breathing, but the nervous sensation took over once they reached the surface. 'I will take you to the entrance,' said Uglúk.

'No need,' said Lily. 'Can't risk blowing it up inside Orthanc. Take me to the stables instead.' She hoped Uglúk hadn't heard it, but the tension she felt was now palpable in her voice. The stables felt a million miles away as they walked across Isengard. She could see candles being lit inside Orthanc. Saruman must know that his staff was gone. They were coming for her.

'It's not safe for you to stay,' she said to Uglúk. 'You may go now.'

With a growl, Uglúk left her alone. Once she was certain he had retrieved back to the shadows, she levitated the Fire of Orthanc above her, and started rushing her way up to Lightfoot. It was madness. She knew the dam was filled to the brim with the water from the mountains by now. Blowing it up was her only chance of escape, or risk dying at the hands of Wizards.

Unsaddled but willing, Lightfoot sped off with her towards the dam. She could hear the howling of the Wargs in the distance. The Orcs had picked up their torches, lighting up the night sky like a rolling fire in the fields. Uglúk must have warned them. She had but a minute to spare.

With the staff held high, she raised the Fire of Orthanc high into the air. She had almost wedged it between the rocks, when suddenly Lightfoot stood up on her hind legs and neighed loudly, and with a harsh blow Lily fell down on the ground. She saw the black adders slithering their way up Lightfoot's legs, biting her hard. 'Let her go, Gríma!' she screamed at the snakes. 'Gríma you have to let me do this! Save yourself if you can!'

But the snakes would not go. The Fire of Orthanc had dropped down as she lost the connection to it with the staff, and now lay invisible in the shadows of the dam. Bruised and hurt she jumped back up on Lightfoot's back. 'Make haste!' she said as she kicked against her flank. Her plan had failed. The only way out now was through the crowd of Orcs that were running up to her. With the staff held high, she thought of the words she wanted to say to part the crowd – but it was too late. Two Orcs ran up to her holding a chain on each end. Lightfoot tripped, and she fell forward into the arms of her own demise.

...o0o…

Lily's hands were bound on her back. By the sharp pain in her side she knew some of her ribs had cracked. Gríma stood before her, his snakes surrounding him. Neither hate nor disappointment could be read in his eyes.

'Gríma,' take her to the pits. It was Saruman who spoke. 'Show her what is done to traitors.'

Her mind fell in and out of darkness. A concussion, she figured. She would have to stay awake. Gríma forcibly took her by the arm and pushed her past the Orcs, who spat at her feet. 'Don't do this, Gríma,' she said weakly. She could taste her own blood on her lips. Gríma did not respond.

Lightfoot was behind her. By the sound of her footfall Lily knew that she was crippled. Everyone present followed her down into the pits, and they did not stop until they had reached the forges. From his robes Saruman pulled out her wand and held it up for all to see. 'Behold the twig of lesser magic!' he called out. He held the wand above the forge. All she wanted to do was scream, but no sound came out of her mouth.

As Saruman lowered her wand into the fire, she remembered the day she had bought it at Ollivanders. Severus had been with her, her parents waiting for them outside, understanding that it was a private moment for the two of them. Willow. Ten and a quarter inch. A phoenix feather. Now reduced to ash from which no phoenix shall be reborn. She felt the tears streaming down her face as the Orcs grunted in excitement and celebration. The Red Witch had lost the her last earthly posession.

'We're not done yet,' Gríma whispered into her ear, and forced her to stand up straight. 'They want to see you break.'

From the forges they marched on to the Warg pits, and her stomach turned as it dawned on her what was happening. Under thunderous chanting from the Orcs, Uglúk pulled Lightfoot forward. 'NO!' she screamed. 'No this cannot be happening! Stop it! STOP IT! GRÍMA LET ME GO!' She tried to wriggle herself free, but Gríma kicked her in the back of the knee and fisted his hand into her hair, forcing her to stare into the soulless eyes of the Wargs.

With a terrible cry, Lightfoot was pushed down into the pit, where she rolled down and landed flat on her back. One by one the starving Wargs came to her. Tearing at her throat. Her limbs ripped apart one by one as they devoured her whole. Lily felt something die within herself as she saw the blood spill out of Lightfoot's guts. 'This isn't over,' she heard Gríma whisper to her.

She glared up at him. 'Will you throw me in too?' she snapped. 'Is this how I meet my end?'

'No,' he answered. 'You will go to the top of Orthanc. And you will stay there for a very long time.'

Not having the energy to respond, she was dragged out of the pits and taken to back to Orthanc. The silence inside was overwhelming as the commotion from the Orcs was left outside. She passed Pallando, who did not utter a word at her as Gríma took her on the many flights of stairs to the top.

'You could have killed us all,' said Gríma once they were halfway. 'You absolute fool of a Witch.'

'You know about the Ring,' she said. 'You know I cannot let him take it!'

'There are other ways to deal with matters of the heart,' said Gríma. 'Keep moving. Saruman has reached a place beyond anger.'

They reached the top of Orthanc in silence. He opened the hatchet, and shoved her onto the plateau. There he released her from the ropes that bound her, and pushed her up against a pillar. The chanting of the Orcs could be heard echoing in the valley, and it cut like a knife through her very soul. 'Do not make a move, or I will throw you over the edge,' he said as he stepped away.

Lily slumped down on her knees, too weak to fight back. 'How long will I have to be here?' she asked as her tears stained her hands, and a rage she had never felt before flared up inside of her.

'As long as it takes,' said Gríma. He made his way over to the hatchet, and stepped down on the ladder. 'I will come back.'

'I trusted you!' Lily screamed as she crawled her way up to him. 'I know you never wanted this to happen! Sauron's forces will never win this battle! All you wanted was Éowyn, and look at where it brought –'

Gríma closed the hatchet, and she heard the lock fall into its place. 'This will not be the end of it, do you hear me Gríma!' she kept screaming into the void. 'You cannot keep me here forever! I will burn this place down to the ground! I AM THE FIRE OF ORTHANC!'

...o0o…

She was counting the days. After three days Gríma had brought her food and water like he had done the first time she was held prisoner here. Only this time he had not come to retrieve her. There was no ending in sight. There was only void ahead.

The Fire of Orthanc was found by the dam. The Orcs had carried it back down to its chamber, and she grieved the loss of Lightfoot and her wand. Perished by her own reckless wrongdoing. She whispered her quiet apologies to the wind, the way she had done when she saw Severus running around the Great Lake from the Gryffindor tower. There were none left to receive it.

There was nothing else to do but to turn inwards. Pallando and Alatar. Two halves of a whole. Pallando's desire for the Ring clouding the love that the Valar had made for him to give. At least it made her understand the history between them in the Land of the Wizards a whole lot more. They loved each other, and she could only hope that their love was still stronger than their hate.

And Severus. She would hold imaginary conversations with him. Laugh at his jokes that to an outsider would seem like she had lost her mind and gone mad. Not that she cared if she had. Talking with him was the only way to grab on to what was left of her in this world. What is your story in all of this? She would ask him. The Severus she imaged before her would shrug. I don't know either, he would say.

She gazed towards Fangorn Forest. The trees at its borders were all cut down, leaving an ugly scar on something that was once beautiful. She wasn't sure if it was her mind playing tricks on her, or merely the wind, but sometimes she could've sworn the trees were moving. Disappearing from one place, and reappear in another. The forest felt restless. A horn was blown, and as she turned around she saw the gates of Orthanc being opened. A group of Wargs were rushing out of the gates, sent on a mission into the Misty Mountains.

A/N "(...)The 'other two' [Blue Wizards] came much earlier, at the same time probably as Glorfindel, when matters became very dangerous in the Second Age, Glorfindel was sent to aid Elrond and was (though not yet said) preeminent in the war in Eriador. But the other two Istari were sent for a different purpose. Morinehtar and Romestamo. Darkness Slayer and East-helper. Their task was to circumvent Sauron; to bring help to the few tribes of Men that had rebelled from Melkor-worship, to stir up rebellion...(…) - The People's of Middle-earth, Last Writings

A/N "I really do not know anything clearly about the other two [wizards] – since they do not concern the history of the N[orth].W[est]. I think they went as emissaries to distant regions, East and South, far out of Númenórean range: missionaries to 'enemy-occupied' lands, as it were. What success they had I do not know; but I fear that they failed, as Saruman did, though doubtless in different ways; and I suspect they were founders or beginners of secret cults and 'magic' traditions that outlasted the fall of Sauron."
—Tolkien's Letter 211