28 / 12 / 24 ~ And in which Eleanor hears an ominous prophecy.

Disclaimer: "The Lord of the Rings" is the property of J. R. R. Tolkien. I only claim ownership over Eleanor Dace, Rávamë (aka "Tink"), and the subsequent plot of their story.

A/N: It's still 2024, so technically this counts and the 2nd chapter of the year… right?

Part III : Chapter 22

- The White Wizard's Final Foretelling -

We left Helms Deep just half an hour later, and despite the fact that it had preserved our lives the night before, I was thrilled to be leaving the fort behind.

Barely twenty minutes after Legolas, Gimli and I had hiked our way out of the glittering caves we'd been rounded up and ushered toward the stables, where Theoden and a small envoy of the Rohirrim were all preparing for the ride to Isengard. Aragorn and Boromir were already there and getting the Nymue and Benvolio saddled up alongside Éomer – all of whom looked almost hilariously filthy alongside the still somehow spotless Gandalf and Shadowfax. He'd looked up to smile warmly at me before I'd had the chance to say anything, and I dimly remember making a slightly dopamine-driven joke about him turning up late to the party. He'd just chuckled and responded that wizards were never late for anything, ever.

I may have also asked if he'd at least brought Starbucks with him. He'd regally ignored me, walking away to speak with Aragorn while Tink all but wet herself laughing at the back of my mind.

When it finally came time to mount up and set off, Gimli decided to make a point of loudly complaining that Legolas rode like a madman and that his tailbone would be much happier as a passenger to Aragorn instead. Boromir had acquired a new shield after the siege which now took up space at his back, which had conspicuously left me with only one real option.

And that was how I found myself sitting on the back of Arod behind Legolas, my arms around his middle, and his unnaturally pleasant scent permanently flooding my nose for an entire day's ride.

In the grand scheme of things, I suppose there were worse fates to have.

Tink had recovered enough from burning through so much of her energy in one night that she'd chipped in with her usual brand of running commentary. Mostly it was to simply wind me up about the kiss in the caves, and complain about how bruised our backside was going to be after effectively two solid days of galloping.

I was still too relieved we were all still alive to care much.

The ride with the small scouting party was fast-paced, only stopping briefly during the night to sleep, to occasionally refill our waterskins and let the horses catch their breath before pressing on. There wasn't much time or space to bask in the giddiness of having my arms wrapped around the waist of the man and friend I'd impulsively kissed twice in the last twenty-four hours (though my stomach did flip a bit at the thought). It didn't even dawn on me until about the halfway point that I hadn't really rested or eaten in almost two days straight.

Painfully early the following we were moving too fast for me to take a nap on horseback, even as a passenger. But as we began to move through more woodland around the forest edge we slowed down enough for me to relax and shut my eyes a little. I'd managed to sleep for a few hours during a camp stop, but not nearly long enough to make up for the exhaustion I could feel settling into my overworked muscles. When we eventually slowed to a walk I let myself lean forward against Legolas' back, my forehead resting tiredly against the back of his nape…

And his whole body suddenly tensed, then slowly relaxed.

For a moment I was sure I was imagining it, but then Arod took a small jump over a fallen log and my brow brushed against the sliver of bare skin where his neck met his collar.

He shivered again. Not a sensual one, but a squirming one. Like a child trying desperately to hold in a burst of inappropriate laughter.

I blinked.

"Legolas…" I asked slowly, quietly enough to be sure the others riding a few feet ahead and behind couldn't hear. "Are you ticklish?"

He turned his head slightly to acknowledge he'd heard me but thinned his lips against an answer. At least not until a wisp of my messily tied hair got caught on a breeze and brushed the back of his ear. He squirmed again, and I saw his cheeks beginning to turn very slightly pink.

"Oh stars, you are!"

"I don't know what you're talking about, mîr nín," he whispered back a little too quickly. But I could hear the suppressed mirth in his voice.

"No?" I asked, poking him in the back of the shoulder. "What was that then?"

"Merely a trick of the light through the trees," he answered serenely.

"A trick of the light?"

"Indeed."

"Hmm."

I probably should have had some more restraint, but even almost a day after the siege of Helms Deep had broken I was just too high on relief that we were all still alive to care. So, just to be mean, I nuzzled my nose lightly against the back of his neck, languishing in the warm scent of him and laughing wickedly as he squirmed like a toddler in my arms.

"Ai Valar, you are going to be the end of me."

I just smiled, resting my head against his shoulder blades again.

'You two are nauseatingly adorable,' Tink complained, though she sounded almost happier about it than I was.

"Smoke just ahead!" One of the forward riders suddenly called.

I was able to peer up and over Legolas' shoulder just enough to see the aforementioned smoke plumes rising up around the black tower through a few gaps in the branches. We'd seen the enormous black stone tower of Orthanc — once an ancient Dúnedain stronghold, and now the seat of the White Wizard — coming into view in the distance before we'd entered the tree line. It had since disappeared behind the forest canopy, but the smell of dowsed fires and smouldering wood was getting stronger. Another minute went by and I was able to hear what sounded like the crashing and rumbling of boulders being shifted coming from far ahead.

"We're almost there," Aragorn murmured back to us all. "Be ready, just in case."

I tightened my arms around Legolas' middle very slightly, and he gave my hand a tiny squeeze in return before returning them to the reins.

The trees began to thin abruptly around our path, morning daylight coming down more clearly through the canopy as we cleared the edge of the wood. Stumps of freshly cut down trees began to appear on either side of our path, and the smell of cinders and charred earth grew stronger.

"My lords…" One of the riders at the head of the line had stopped, looking ahead of him with a faintly disbelieving expression.

"What is it, Uvir?" Theoden called from a little way behind Legolas and me.

Uvir opened his mouth silently, shaking his head slowly before eventually responding. "You… may wish to see this for yourself, my King."

There was enough space on either side of the path for the horsemen to spread out a bit now. Legolas guided Arod alongside Benvolio, Aragorn and Gimli, allowing us all a better look at the vista ahead.

Isengard was underwater.

Well, partly underwater. Aragorn had once described the grounds and buildings surrounding the tower of Orthanc to me as verdant gardens dedicated to meditation, learning and contemplation. Now the land surrounding Saruman's obsidian tower looked like the fallout from a natural disaster even with the watery morning sunshine coming over the mountains. There was no plant life left standing in a half mile all around the tower. It was hard to tell at this distance, but it looked like every tree or shrub had either been dug up or chopped down in favour of sprawling outdoor metal workshops and armouries. Mangled bits of destroyed wood and metal buildings were sticking out of the ground at jagged angles where they'd clearly been wrecked by a wall of incoming water that now half submerged them — likely from the river I guessed.

The noise of what sounded like stones being dragged across concrete was louder now, but I still couldn't see where it was coming from through the mist and clouds of lingering smoke. There were tall, ominous-looking figures moving around in the fog, but they didn't move anything like I'd seen orcs do, and they were far too tall and slender to be Uruk-hai.

But between us and all of that lay one last perplexing tableau.

Two small figures were perched atop a half-destroyed stone wall, just on the outskirts of the flood not a hundred feet away. Small plumes of curling smoke were rising from them along with the pungent scent of…

Pipeweed.

I felt my mouth fall open, and a mix of exhilaration and excitement rose in my chest.

"Is that–?"

One of the short figures suddenly stood up on the wall, arms raised and waving at us, his familiar beaming smile and yellow waistcoat visible even from a hundred feet away.

'Oh, you have got to be kidding me.'

"Welcome, my lords and ladies!" Merry Brandybuck called as those of us at the front of the convoy drew nearer, sketching a dramatic bow that would have been at home in a circus ring. "To Isengard!"

Pippin Took stood up beside him on the wall as well, his curly hair tangled and muddy face beaming. His travelling clothes were a little dirtier and more singed than the last time I'd seen him, but he was grinning like a fiend, smoking pipe in one hand and what looked suspiciously like a ham sandwich in the other.

They were really ok. I knew Gandalf had assured us they were, back when we'd reunited with him in Fangorn. I'd trusted his word when he said they were in the care of a trusted friend. But it had taken seeing them alive and well, their laughs and smiles unchanged despite what they'd been through to lift that weight from my shoulders. I opened my mouth to call to them, but I realised my eyes had filled with tears and my throat had tightened.

There was a single heartbeat where the confused Rohirrim men around us knew how to react.

But we five of the Fellowship did.

"You young rascals!" Gimli boomed from behind Aragorn, his outraged voice breaking the silence as he leaned sideways off Benvolio to see them properly. "A merry hunt you've led us all on! And now after weeks fearing for your lives, we find you with your feet up, feasting and smoking!"

He sounded rather more outraged at their access to good food and fresh pipeweed than anything else. Merry and Pippin for their part looked extremely pleased with themselves.

And honestly, fair.

"We are sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts," Pippin explained emphatically, waving his sandwich at us. "The salted pork and gooseberry jam are particularly good."

Gimli's stomach unleashed an audible growl.

Again, fair.

"…Gooseberry jam?" He asked hopefully, clearly remembering that most of us had eaten little more than a few hasty rations in over a day now.

I started laughing despite the knot in my throat, and to my surprise, Aragorn joined in. I could sense Legolas' grin even though I couldn't see it while Gimli continued his affectionate ranting. Gandalf, while also amused, was glancing between the two boasting halflings and the utter destruction all around them, and appeared to be quietly questioning some of his life choices.

"Hobbits," he muttered, shaking his head fondly.

"We're under orders to guard the way!" Pippin explained, demolishing the last of his sandwich and putting out his pipe.

"Oh yes, from who?" Aragorn asked, still unable to or unwilling to wipe the smile from his face.

"Treebeard," Merry said, also extinguishing his pipe and stowing it in his waistcoat. "They've taken over management of Isengard."

I was about to ask who Treebeard was, and what he'd make of them smoking on the job. But then Boromir, who'd been bringing up the rear of our convoy suddenly appeared through the riders to come up beside me and Legolas.

The man of Gondor saw the two hobbits at the exact same moment they saw him and all their eyes went wide with shock…

Then shapeless, frantic cries of joy exploded from Merry and Pippin both. Crying his name, the two hobbits literally threw themselves off the wall straight at him, knocking him sideways off his horse and straight into the muddy water all around us. He came up roaring with laughter, both hobbits hugging him with all their strength. He returned the embrace just as fiercely, the river water doing a brilliant job of masking the tears in all their eyes.

Gandalf was openly laughing along with the rest of us now too, his blue eyes bright with joy. When he caught me looking at him and offered me a small nod, which I returned with a teary smile of my own.

It took a few moments of more tears and embraces of relief before everyone was able to compose themselves again. It took Boromir several attempts to stand up properly because Merry and Pippin refused to let go of him.

"Come now, you may interrogate each other on the last few weeks later," Gandalf reminded us all, gesturing with his staff towards the tower further into the flooded grounds. "We must see to Saruman."

"Treebeard and the other ents have him barricaded inside the tower," Merry told us as Boromir helped him onto the back of his horse, and Pippin onto the back of Gandalf's. "He can't go anywhere. Save for if he can secretly fly."

I looked to the tower, its base still masked by mist, then back to them.

"So… you've functionally managed to put Saruman the White, the leader of the Istari… under house arrest?" I asked.

They nodded, and I gave them an impressed smile.

"I've missed you both so much."

Merry and Pippin grinned like beatific demons back at me, and we all started down the hill further into the flooded, desecrated grounds of Isengard.

The sounds of stone on stone became louder as we moved through the mist, the towering gaunt figures I'd seen earlier coming into slightly clearer focus. It wasn't until we were traipsing through the flotsam and jetsam floating towards the foot of the tower that one of the figures strode steadily out of the mist with heavy, rumbling footfalls.

My jaw fell open as a living tree in the approximate shape of a person but at least twice as tall as a man appeared before us.

"Burarum... Young Master Gandalf," the walking tree rumbled, its voice coming out like the creaking of trunks in a strong wind. "I'm pleased you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone, I can command. But there's a Wizard to be managed here... locked high in his tower."

"I am also thankful to see you well, my friend, and for your protection of these two," Gandalf answered nodding towards Merry and Pippin, and completely ignoring the utterly stunned expressions of the Rohirrim men all around him. Glancing around it seemed like the only ones who weren't baffled by the sight of an oak tree talking and walking around on its roots were our resident wizard, Aragorn, Legolas and the aforementioned two hobbits.

"Just when I think I've seen everything, a talking tree arrives…" I murmured sotto voce.

The sentient oak's hearing turned out to be razor-keen because they turned and peered straight down at me specifically in what was unmistakably an offended glare.

"Treee? I am no mere tree, young miss! I am Treebeard, an Ent of Fangorn!"

"Oh…" I gulped, took a breath and put my hand to my heart in the traditional elven sign of greeting. "Then I sincerely beg your pardon, Treebeard. I meant no offence."

Treebeard scrutinised me with huge, owlish yellow eyes before straightening with a low creak.

"This one has good manners at least," they said, before turning and leading us all towards the foot of the tower.

"How is it you were never so polite to any of us upon first meeting?" Legolas asked quietly as Arod continued to wade through the water after our guide.

"None of you are tall enough to squash me underfoot," I answered, perfectly serious.

As we walked on and the mist began to clear, more of Treebeard's brethren began to appear, and quickly made clear the source of the sounds we'd been hearing.

There were dozens of them, all different kinds of trees of all different shapes and sizes, all scattered over the flooded grounds surrounding Isengard. Some were busy quite literally tearing down the remains of workshops and armouries still left partially standing, while others were hauling giant stones and boulders to block the doors and escape routes out of the tower. A few of them stopped to watch us all as we went by, but most were too engrossed with the business of beginning to heal the land to care much.

I couldn't really blame them.

We'd already passed the remains of hundreds of trees on the way to Merry and Pippin, some of which — from the rings on their stumps — looked to have been thousands of years old. It had felt disturbingly like walking through a graveyard. If this is what had been done in order to build Saruman's army, it was no wonder the forest and its guardians had torn the remains of that army to gory shreds.

"The filth of Saruman is washing away…" Treebeard told us solemnly as we passed another couple of ents dragging the bodies of fallen orcs away towards the forest. "Trees will come back to live here, young trees ... wild trees. But first… the wizard must be dealt with."

"Then, surely we should just have his head and be done with it," I heard Éomer say quietly.

"No. He has no power anymore," Gandalf told him gravely. "And we need what he knows for the days ahead."

Neither Thoden nor Éomer looked especially pleased by that, but they didn't object either.

Eventually, Treebeard came to a stop before the base of the tower, just far back enough for us to be able to look up without straining our necks.

"What's that?" Pippin suddenly piped up as we all came to a stop.

We all looked around to find him not looking up at all. He was pointing down into the muddy water around the horses' legs. Something was glowing faintly under the surface, just a little to the right of Shadowfaxs front hoof.

None of us had a chance to guess what the ominous glow was before Pippin's curiosity had him sliding off Shadowfaxs back and reaching down into the water in an attempt to grab it.

"Pippin!" Merry hissed, clearly worried it was something that might harm him.

But instead of being bitten or pulled under by the source of the glow, Pippin stood up holding what looked like a large orb of dark quartz about the size of a softball. It was polished to a gleaming shine, veined with smoky wisps that seemed to move of their own accord. And from within came the same soft pale gold glow we'd seen emanating from beneath the river water.

The moment I saw it there, cradled in Pippin's arms something about it struck me as hauntingly familiar, but I couldn't have said why to save my life…

"Bless my bark!" Treebeard intoned, sounding genuinely shocked.

Gandalf pulled Shadowfax a little closer in order to reach a hand down.

"Peregrin, I'll take that, my lad."

Pippin didn't move. He was staring into the orb like he was hypnotised by it.

"Peregrin Took!" Gandalf didn't raise his voice, but it did harden to a dangerous edge. Pippin jumped, his head jerking to look up. Gandalf held out his hand again. "Pass it here, quickly now."

Pippin obeyed, but something in his eyes held a reluctance that unsettled me. He was watching it like it was a secret he desperately wanted the answer to…

Right up until Gandalf threw one of his robes around it, shielding it from sight, at which point the spell seemed to break.

"What is that thing, Gandalf?" I asked as he helped Pippin back onto the horse behind him.

"It is a palantír," he answered, explaining exactly nothing and refusing to meet my eye for some reason I couldn't fathom.

Gimli let out a low whistle as Éomer and Aragorn both frowned.

"What is one of the lost seeing stones doing in the possession of the White Wizard?" Boromir asked with trepidation.

"It was likely left to him by Beren when he gifted the tower over to him centuries ago. One of many artefacts of power he has abused," Gandalf told us grimly. He looked as if he was debating saying more, but before he could his brow furrowed and he turned his gaze upward.

The rest of us followed suit, our eyes following his up towards the flat top of the tower. It was a long way up, but not so far that it was impossible to see the white-garbed figure who's appeared at the edge — tall and regal with a long beard and sharp eyes — stark against the glossy black stone of the tower he stood atop, and the morning sky behind. I felt more than saw every one of us grow tense with alertness, but it wasn't until I heard the sounds of stones being moved and buildings torn down had stopped entirely that I looked around...

And found the small army of ancient sentient tree guardians had all stopped in their work and were glaring murderously up at the old wizard like they wanted to make him into fertiliser.

I couldn't help myself.

"Well, Macbeth," I murmured just loud enough for those nearest to me to hear, "looks like Birnam Wood finally came to Dunsinane."

Gimli snorted, and I caught Aragorn's micro-smirk out of the corner of my eye. I'd told them all that particular story when we were still back in Lothlórien. I was a little surprised to sense no such amusement coming from Tink though. I only realised after a moment it was because – much like the Ents – every drop of her attention was fixed on the wizard at the top of the tower.

Something was different for me and Tink now. I'd felt something had changed about our shared headspace, our bond, ever since the siege — though I'd been too focused on the relief of our survival to think about it. We'd changed somehow, both of us. I could sense it in the strength of the feelings I could sense radiating from her now — a curdling mix of dread, simmering anger and fear of the unknown. But I didn't think either of us quite understood just the extent of what had shifted yet…

"Be cautious. Even in defeat, Saruman is formidable," Gandalf warned us with severity. But I was only half paying attention to the outside of my mind.

'Tink?' I asked silently, trying to feel for what had her so on edge. 'What's wrong?'

She took what felt like a long time to answer, but must have only been the span of a breath.

'Eleanor… I know him.'

The bottom fell out of my stomach.

'You mean you remember him?'

I felt her silently shaking her head as if she'd been next to me.

'No. Not exactly,' she breathed. 'I don't know how I know him, or from where. But I recognise—'

She didn't get to finish before Saruman's voice — deep, commanding, and somehow amplified so all of us including the Men could hear him clearly — reverberated down at us.

"Theoden King," he addressed the leader of Rohan with a tone that somehow mixed diplomacy and scorn. "You have fought many wars and slain many men and yet made peace afterwards. Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace you and I?"

The words were delivered in such a way as to sound both offering and taunting at the same time, and from the way I saw Theoden's fists clench on the reins of his horse, it had the desired effect. Saruman knew he was outflanked and outmatched now. But he also knew, despite all the horror and pain he'd caused, he was too valuable to just kill.

And so did Theoden.

With Tink's unexplained trepidation still rolling in my gut, I watched as the King of Rohan calmed himself enough to speak, though his glare up at the former Istari was black with hate.

"We shall have peace," he said, voice like a cold iron that had been set in a fire, gaining heat until it burned white. "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! We shall have peace when you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows!"

The echos of his rage-filled shout carried like a storm up the tower, and I was able to focus my elf-eyes enough to see Saruman's neutral expression turn venomous.

"Gibbets and crows is it? Barbaric retribution for a barbaric race. And what of you Gandalf Grahame? What is it you wish as weregilt? Let me guess. The key to Orthanc? Or perhaps the keys of Barad-Dûr itself? Perhaps along with the crowns of the seven Kings and the staffs of the Five Wizards?" I felt a stab of horror as Saruman's gaze fell directly on me. "Or perhaps merely a less breakable vessel for our disembodied brethren who now incomprehensibly chooses to ride at your side."

The fear and dread I'd felt radiation off Tink suddenly tripled as it mirrored my own.

He was talking about me. Me and Tink.

I felt Tink go terribly still and tense within my mind even as I felt Legolas' body go taut in front of me, his free hand closing gently around mine. I gripped it back without thought or hesitation.

"Oh yes, I can see who it is that walks within your shadow, girl." Saruman was sneering, scrutinising me with head tilted before speaking directly to Tink in a softer tone. "Yet you, sister… you do not know why. You do not understand. You… you have not told her of her fate, Gandalf."

It was difficult to tell, even with my elf-sight, but he seemed momentarily baffled by whatever he'd realised of us. I had no idea what he was on about, but the mention of Gandalf immediately made me turn my head to glance questingly at him.

He wasn't looking at me.

He wasn't looking at us very deliberately.

"Your treachery has already cost many lives," he called back up to Saruman, pointedly ignoring the comments directed at me and Tink. "Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's counsel. You could turn that knowledge to turn the tide."

Saruman paused for an unsettlingly long moment, and at first, I thought he might be considering Gandalf's offer. But then he spoke to me again — or rather, he spoke through me directly to Tink.

"Untamed One, Lady of the Wilder Hunt," he addressed her, his tone bordering on mocking, "do you truly not know why you linger here in this Middle Earth, instead of residing in Aman with the rest of our kin? Have you not once wondered why you are forced to reside in the body of a lesser being instead of your own true form?"

My mouth went dry.

I had wondered that. I knew Tink had as well. I could already feel her desperation for the knowledge being dangled in front of us as a reflection of my own.

"I could give you all the answers you crave," Saruman went on. "All that has been hidden from you. If only you would… remove those in my way."

For a moment I couldn't understand what he was on about, only that he was now ignoring me completely and speaking only to Tink.

Then it hit me like a bucket of ice water.

He was asking her to turn on us.

I didn't even know if she could even do that. Tink had always said the only way she could take control of my body was if I allowed her to, otherwise it would damage us both. But he was the same kind of being as she was — a Maia housed in a mortal body — and he seemed to believe she could do it enough to make the offer.

I felt panic rising up inside me, but I didn't feel it for long.

Flaring anger and outrage began radiating unmistakably from Tink herself, hot and blazing like standing too close to a bonfire. It surged through me like a sudden fever, making my pulse race and thinning that mental barrier between us even more. I could feel her there as if she was beneath my skin, simmering furiously just under my consciousness, glaring out through my eyes at the wizard high above.

'May I?' She asked so softly despite her anger.

It wasn't forceful or demanding, but a clear, firm request.

I was so surprised and confused by the loathing emanating from her directed at Saruman that I didn't think to question or offer any resistance. I mentally stepped aside and felt her gently nudge her way to the front of my consciousness, not unlike what she'd done to save me when I'd nearly been killed at Amon Hen. I felt her gold spilling into my eyes, felt my face twist into an expression that was alien to my features and a snarl pulled at the curve of my mouth.

"Come down here and ask me to harm those I care for again, Curumo. If you dare," she whispered through my lips, too quiet for the Men to hear. But I knew from the unnerved look on his face that Saruman had heard her as clearly as if she'd been standing next to him.

Later I would realise when she spoke of those she cared for, she hadn't just been talking about me.

I felt Legolas's whole body go deathly still under my hands and realised with a sinking jolt that he'd heard her as well. Dread taking hold of me, I took back just enough control from her to briefly turn my head and glance at the others around me. The men, dwarf and hobbits all looked varying degrees of spooked or perplexed by Saruman's words, but their attentions were still very much on him.

Only Gandalf was looking at me, a mix of both amazement and horror marring his face.

"As you chose, sister," Saruman's sneering tone drew both our eyes back to the top of the tower. He turned his gaze on the others again. "So you have come here for information then. I have some for you. 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 from the shadows will never be crowned King."

The more the old wizard carried on the more unhinged and furious his voice was starting to become. Out of the corner of my eye, despite all Tink's attention still fixed on the ranting former Istari, I saw the Palantir — still covered from sight by Gandalf's — begin to glow again, the light changing from a soft gold to a menacing low red.

"Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those who are closest to him those he professes to love," Saruman continued to spit with vitriol. "Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the halfling before you sent him to his doom? You know full well that the path that you have set him on can only lead to death."

For the first time since we'd been reunited with him in Fangorn Forest, I saw Gandalf's face falter. The lines of his face deepened with worry and fear, and his jaw tightened with carefully leashed anger.

"I've heard about enough of this," Boromir growled, low and furious beside him.

"Aye," Gimli agree, nodding over at Legolas. "Shoot him, lad. Stick an arrow in his gob."

Legolas — seemingly on autopilot having not relaxed a single muscle after hearing Tink speak aloud for the first time — reached for where he'd buckled his quiver to his hip. I instantly took back control of my body, my hand catching around his wrist, stopping him. He didn't flinch, but he did twist to look at me in shock. My eyes must have been their usual colour again because he relaxed the moment our gazes met.

"Don't," I whispered, pleading. "Please. We still need answers from him."

"Come down Saruman and your life will be spared!" Gandalf called again.

Saruman spat a curse in a language I couldn't understand but got the general gist of.

"Save your pity and your mercy. I have no use for them!"

And with that, he took the tall staff he'd been holding at his side and cast it in an arc over his head like he was swinging an axe. He uttered a sharp word that wasn't really a word at all, and I felt the surge of power being drawn to him the same way I'd felt the gathering of fire Tink had called at Amon Hen.

'Oh shit!' Both Tink and I said internally at the same time, bracing for whatever Saruman was calling down on us.

But nothing happened.

Or rather, nothing happened to us.

I refocused my eyes at the top of the tower and was just in time to see and hear Saruman cry out in shock and pain as his staff detonated like shattered glass into a thousand tiny pieces. They rained down all around us, plinking into the water at the base of the tower like little white hailstones.

"Saruman," Gandalf said with equal parts reprimand and pity, "your staff is broken, your might stripped, and your authority revoked. You have no more power here."

For the first time since I'd seen him, Saruman looked truly stunned beyond words — almost frightened.

Suddenly from behind him, a smaller, darker-clothed figure appeared just a few steps to his side. I recognised the cowering, fearful form immediately — Grima Wormtongue. The man who had poured poison into Theoden's ears for months. Had allowed Saruman to puppet him like a doll, weakening Rohan from the inside. Despite everything that had happened, it seemed he was still serving the master he'd chosen for himself.

Theoden saw him too, and much to my surprise, he didn't meet the man's gaze with fury and wrath. His face immediately softened with pity.

"Grima! You need not follow him! You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan. Come down."

Wormtongue's mouth opened and silently closed. He looked both shocked and like he was silently warring with himself.

Saruman however didn't give him a chance to respond. He'd recovered from the disbelief of seeing his symbol of authority from the Valar literally shatter before his eyes, and had returned to unmasked scorn.

"A man of Rohan?" he sneered. "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 Helms Deep does not belong to you Theoden Horse Master. You are a lesser son of greater sires!"

Theoden ignored him.

"Grima, come down! Be free of him!" Theoden called again, deliberately blanking Saruman's ranting — which I had to admire him for.

Wormtongue's expression wavered again, his eyes flickering between Saruman and us. He took a single step back from the former White Wizard as if to move for the stairs. Saruman rounded on him.

"Free? He will never be free! He signed away his freedom as a Man of Rohan long ago."

Wormtongue's pallid face contorted in fearful hate.

"No…" he said softly, shaking his head.

Saruman snarled another curse I couldn't understand.

"Useless cur!"

He slapped Wormtongue so hard the other man fell backwards, sprawling out of sight on the top of the tower with a cry.

"Saruman!" Gandalf shouted, louder this time in an effort to keep his attention. "You were deep in the enemy's counsel. Tell us what you know!"

Saruman turned his furious gaze back down to us, his composure all but gone now.

"You withdraw your guard first and then I will tell you where your doom will be decided." He aimed his gaze at me once more. "And if you take the ents with you, I will tell you, Rávamë, what sin earned you the punishment you now endure."

Another surge of desperation flooded through me, and I had to shut my eyes to keep from wincing at the strength of it. When I opened them again I saw Gandalf looking at him more seriously than I could ever remember him being before.

"I know you long for answers," he whispered so only I and Legolas could hear, "But I promise you, this is not the place to find them."

He wasn't just talking to me this time.

Part of me wanted to scream that they weren't his answers to keep from us. That we both had the right to know what had happened to us, no matter the source that knowledge came from. But I also knew Gandalf had never knowingly led us astray. Not once. He had always given help in as much as he could without hurting either of us, and I trusted he was doing the same now.

But unlike at the beginning of this journey, it wasn't just my decision to make anymore.

'Tink…' I said silently, her name an unvoiced question.

She slowly turned my face back up to see the former White Wizard glaring straight down at us — her and me alone.

"Tell me…" she whispered so softly through my lips even I could barely hear.

But Saruman did.

And he smiled cruelly at her.

A wave of desperation, fury, pain and unfathomable loneliness that I'd never experienced before in my life flooded up through my entire body from the depths of Tink's presence. It forced tears from our eyes and a scream from our throat.

"Tell me!" She howled at him, her voice coming out so loud from my mouth it shook dust from the walls of the tower and made some of the Rohan riders flinch back.

"Grant me safe passage. I will not be held prisoner here," he answered without care, his cool scornful composure returned…

Right up until Wormtongue — his lip bloody from where Saruman had hit him, pulled back in a snarl — rose like a phantom behind him, and plunged a knife deep into the corrupted wizard's unguarded side.

"No!" Tink bellowed.

Legolas reacted so fast I didn't even feel him pull an arrow from his quiver before it was knocked against his bowstring and loosed. The arrow flew straight up the face of the tower, landing with a meaty thunk directly in Wormtongue's chest just as he went to try and stab Saruman a second time.

Near identical expressions of shock and disbelief crossed both master and servant's faces as they understood what had just happened. Wormtongue gave a choking cough that stained his mouth even more red than before, before falling straight backwards out of our sight. Saruman somehow managed to remain upright on the edge of the tower, but he was teetering dangerously as well.

Somehow, from all that distance and with a stab wound in his side, as he turned towards us again, he met my eyes again.

Then he opened his mouth, stained red with blood, and the air around us erupted with bone-rattling noise.

Pain assaulted not just my ears, but my everything. For a few agonised breaths I couldn't understand what was happening, only that whatever it was, I knew it was coming from him. He was speaking, but they weren't verbal words that were coming out of his mouth high above. They were the crash of tides against continental plates, the rumbles of mountains being formed, and storms flattening everything in their wake. They hit like sledgehammers against my mind, thunderous in my head, their meaning scorching themselves onto my thoughts.

In front of me, Legolas had doubled over against the pain too. Beside us, our companions and the men of Rohan were having similar reactions. I tried instinctively to cover my ears, to try and block it out. But when it made no difference I realised it wasn't the sound I was hearing. He was using that same language Tink had when she'd burned the ground black with a single word.

The same one all the Valar and Maiar had used all in unison to call the world into existence at the beginning of time.

"Untamed One," Saruman's words scorched their meaning into my mind, "flee from her of ashen hair and a broken heart. She will be your unmaking, your Bane, as the White Wizard was mine."

The words echoed like thunder through my thoughts, through Tink's thoughts, marking themselves indelibly into both our memory.

The pain was fierce, but as the words stopped being spoken I was able to unclench my eyes and look up again just in time to see Saruman's empty, lifeless husk tumble forward off the edge of the tower. I watched him falling as if in slow motion, a thousand feelings all surging through me at once, unable to distinguish which were mine and which were Tink's...

Before Legolas seized my face and turned my gaze away against his shoulder just in time to shield me from the sight of the wizard's body hitting the stone stairs with a wet crack.

A/N:

I'm not sure how considering how burned out I've been this year (after moving twice in less than 8 months) but I somehow managed to finally finish this chapter and edit it all in the space of a couple of days while home for Christmas. So after what is apparently 9ish years of having that prophecy lurking at the back of my mind, I finally get to drop the first nod to this series title.

I've said it before that I've had both Tink/Ravame and Ellie's forgotten backstories planned for a long time, but for this chapter especially I had to sit down and really flesh out some of the details and motivations around Ravame's past specifically. And I'll be honest, left me a bit emotional. I always knew her history before the memory wipe was going to involve a lot of big complicated feelings, but I hadn't quite planned for how it would impact not just her, but all the characters who knew who she was before — and all those still alive who knew (at least some) of what happened to her.

There's going to be a lot more on Tink's past as well as Eleanor's as we go forward from here, and I'm simultaneously excited and nervous about sharing her long-overdue backstory, plus how it'll inevitably impact her relationship with Eleanor.

But first, a long awaited party.

Much love,

Rella x