I ride to him at the break of dawn, and leave my business with the Elves of LothLorien; only the small matter of a suspicion of the Dark Lord Sauron re-appearing, possibly, in Middle Earth.
I am fairly certain, in fact, that this is exactly what Saruman wishes to discuss with me. I am disturbed by the mention of Sauron, for several reasons: first of all, he is one of our kind- the Maiar – and his fall at Morgoth’s instigation was a great tragedy.
I think of his story as very sad, and tragic indeed; also, if he has returned to Middle Earth to wreck havoc in some power play, what will that entail?
The Necromancer – that is the name of the suspicious being that is thought to quite possibly be Sauron. The Elves are nearly certain it is him, and they have given me grave tidings of what may be coming. Dol Guldur is perhaps giving sanctuary to a great wickedness. It is with a heavy heart I ride to Isengard this day.
My lord Saruman has told me of his own arrival here at Isengard in 2759, settling at the great obsidian tower of Orthanc :
“I returned from the East, alcarin-silme, and eventually came here. Many wanderings have I made, and I have learned much- and all the words of men and speech of Ents! Now you are here, and I no longer am alone in my wisdom.”
I make my way to his inner sanctum- his jumbled and chaotic study- and he greets me with a radiant smile- so rare!- and says,
“Ah, Olórin! You have come! I have news, wonderful news, melda-nya! We are about to play host to the first convening of the White Council!”
“The ‘White Council’ -? And what is that, Aratar (holy one)?” I ask him.
He smiles still, and I wonder at it, but I am pleased he is in such a good mood.
“Ah-” he says softly, “Well, it is to be comprised of Elves- and Istari! And since we are the only Istari- I believe we are in very good standing, Gandalf! At least from a point of view of positioning, and the like!”
I smile back at him, but I do not understand why he is concerned with “positioning”, if we are among allies.
“What about Radagast?” I remember, suddenly, and this does not get a good reaction: “Radagast!” Saruman spits the name out with venomous dislike- “I forgot about him! Not difficult to do- ah, what a tedious and wearisome companion he was on my first journey here to Middle Earth!”
He walks close to me, and we are standing only inches apart; “I have high hopes for you, my Gandalf, yes, high hopes indeed! So far, you have not bored me, or wearied me with your presence- no, far from it!”
He inclines his magnificent head slightly, and leans in towards me- I do not know why, but I close my eyes, and I feel what must be his mouth upon mine, hot and wet. I experience a searing rush of excitement, and as he lifts his lips off mine, his fingers trace along my lips, dragging long nails gently across, and then he place his lips on mine again, and this time pushes his tongue inside my mouth, as he holds my face in his hands.
“Wha- what are you doing, Aratar?”, I ask him breathlessly, and he puts a finger to his lips to signal my silence, and then again our tongues resume their unusual union.
After what seems like an Age, he breaks away from me again; I stare into his eyes, caught in the endless black ocean, and I am pulled under the merciless tides.
Finally, he speaks, in a voice that is both loving and strict: “ We must prepare, for the Council meeting is this eve! There is time enough for this!”
I ache, and seethe, in a thousand different ways at this moment, but I nod mutely, and try to gather my confused thoughts.
And so, the newly formed White Council gathers in the Garden of Isengard; and Saruman and I sit next to one another ( “We need to present a united front!” he tells me, with a grave expression on his face, and again, I do not understand );
Radagast arrives, late, unfortunately, and he greets Saruman very politely:
“Hail, Curumo, my dearest friend, it is wonderful to see you aga-” - “Yes, yes, of course!” Saruman cuts him off sharply, and turns rudely away. Radagast looks at him curiously, and then greets me courteously. I return the salutation. Saruman glares at me angrily.
After many greetings are exchanged among the many Elven dignitaries, it is decided that a Leader ought to be chosen- Saruman gives me a knowing glance, as Elrond first takes the speakers circle:
“My friends! We must have a leader who can take us through the good and the bad, and all that may come! Wise, yet tempered with mercy. May we have a nomination?” There is mumbling all around, and then I speak up : “I, Gandalf the Grey, of the Istar, I nominate Saruman the White!”
There is more whispering, and hushed voices.
And then Galadriel, the Lady of the Wood, with whom I have just spent a very pleasant few days, stands up, a slight frown upon her face. She begins speaking:
“My friends, I am sure we are all aware of the great reputation of our friend Lord Curunír, truly, his reputation precedes him- ”
I steal a glance at Saruman next to me, and he is openly glaring at Galadriel – I am concerned- if I can see it, does he not realize others can as well? Galadriel is certainly aware of it, she is looking at Saruman straight in the eye, and he returns her gaze fiercely. She goes on to nominate- ah no, no! She has just nominated me!
Saruman turns slowly in his seat, and gives me the blackest look I have ever seen- it is a look of warning- and I stand up, knowing I must say something:
“My dear friends! I am honored that the Lady Galadriel has such confidence in my abilities- but- I must respectfully decline- and again I ask you to strongly consider my great mentor, who is far better qualified than I!”
A pretty speech, and I hope it will do the trick. Saruman nods at me slightly, approvingly, the anger leaving his face.
He gets the Office, and it is well.
The Council now truly convenes, and the first order of business is, as I am not too surprised, this business with Dol Guldur- and the mysterious “Necromancer”.
Galadriel and Celeborn present several evidences that this is indeed Sauron himself; others come and go, some assenting, and others dissenting.
Now Saruman takes the Circle, and regards the assembled Council gravely- finally, he sighs deeply, as if in great regret, and speaks:
“My comrades and allies! I have heard you all, and it is my very measured opinion that we must not be too hasty in moving against Dol Guldur! If it is indeed Sauron, then the time for action will come soon enough. However, if it is not him, but another, we risk war with an unknown opponent- who, I might add, has done nothing against us directly at this point!”
There is a hush that falls over the assembly, and I realize, as I look into their faces, that they are spellbound, and that Saruman is, in ever so insidiously a fashion, casting some sort of charm over them with his voice; and he speaks again, the booming power of his deep voice rolling among the Council like a living thing, caressing and enchanting, entreating and seducing.
He convinces them, and we take no action that day against the Necromancer.
The meeting over, I walk among the Council members, talking briefly and listening as well, trying to gauge if anyone knows anything of Dol Guldur- and then something happens which causes me great alarm:
Saruman, who had left the Meeting after his speech, and retired to the upper rooms, now returns, and he is walking towards Galadriel, with a very set and irritated expression. I do not know why this should alarm me, but it does, and I head in that direction myself.
Galadriel watches his approach, with some consternation herself, as well, it appears. Something wrong here, but what?
Saruman smiles at her thinly, and I can hear him speak with gritted teeth:
“Ah, the exalted Lady! It was very good of you to recommend my Gandalf, here, for the Head of the Council! What a charming notion, and so very- so very kind!” He looks into her eyes and continues :
“But as you can see, he is not interested in that position. Too bad, alas, now you must deal with me as the Head of the White Council. I shall endeavor to not disappoint you- in - anything you are expecting of me!”-
Galadriel returns his intense gaze with equal fortitude, and there is only gentleness in her voice as she replies:
“Nay, Curunír, I, as ever, expect and have confidence in only your best intentions.”
She edges closer to him, and his expression changes, to a faint look of – what- I cannot tell, and I keep my silence. She speaks again:
“But is there something more, perhaps, dear Curunír - something you would like to confide? For I will never betray your trust!”
Saruman laughs then, harshly, and ill-disguised sarcasm drips from his next words:
“Yes, indeed! All in confidence, and in the Spirit of Trust, yes, my Lady?” He leers at her from behind his thick beard, and leans in very close to her face, and says softly:
“Perhaps, yes, I can think of something I have knowledge of, that you might be interested in, at that- if I may have but an hour of your time, in my private chamber in the Tower here, perhaps I can – enlighten you- on things you have never experienced or heard of. Yes, I can show a very great secret, my Lady, a very large secret! I am confident you will enjoy every moment of what I can reveal to you. What do you say to that, my beautiful star, my Elen?”
His meaning is bluntly obvious, and even stoic Galadriel looks shocked.
She looks at Saruman with a mixture of horror and sadness, and then turns and walks away.
Saruman turns to me, smirking, and whispers in a serpent’s voice: “I would have shown it to her too, she who is so eager for a secret, and hidden things. Oh yes, I would have given her something to think on, something to relate to her Lord, and see perhaps he does not quite measure up anymore!” He laughs again, cruelty in the sound, and retires again to his chamber. I stand there for a long time, stunned into paralysis by his maliciousness.
Night has fallen, and it is only he and I in the Tower now. Saruman prefers it that way: “Fewer witnesses!” he says, laughing in one of his rare bursts of levity.
I am still gravely troubled by his strange words to Lady Galadriel, but I say nothing of it, and I retire to my bedchamber. Oh, to be sure, I understood what he was getting at, it was crystal clear.
When I was very new here, I knew nothing of such sexual matters, and needs. I learned quickly what Saruman was referring to when he would make coarse, yet oddly refined, comments about such things. Though I myself had never had any of these experiences, I always listened in great interest as Saruman related his; usually in great and painstaking detail.
Then he would watch my face to see my reaction. I usually would sit back and simply be silent, and he would invariably frown, as if my reaction was found wanting.
As he told it, this activity could be had with a male or female, and it was best “If it was mutual and consensual, but that was not a prerequisite.”
That perplexed me- I do not like anything to be done to another that is forced, and this did not sound right to me. But I, in my swollen respect of him, did not question, although I knew I would never do such a thing as force someone.
And now, this night, as my mind spins with his strange, aggressive behavior to Galadriel, I slowly undress and slip under the cover. I have nearly found sleep, when I hear my door open, and a faint light shines in from a candle.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.