( Saruman is unconscious- and dreaming "true")
Where is this place, where am I?, I wonder groggily, as I struggle to
focus my sight - I feel a warm touch on my arm, and I look to see who
Gandalf- Gandalf the Grey- or is it Gandalf the White? No, I am the White. Aren't I?
I feel more dead than White.
He looks white, though, by the Valar, he is fairly SHINING, he is glorious to look upon.
His smile lights up the sky like a dazzling sun, and he reaches out to me, and pulls me into his radiant embrace. I relax into his arms, and feel his powerful chest against mine. I am enjoying this, yes, very much, but it all feels so strange somehow.
Why am I - why are we- doing this? I hate Gandalf- no, I do not hate him, but I must bring him back under control. He has forgotten who is the Master in this relationship, that's all.
So why am I submitting so totally to him, as if he is the one in command?
Do I love him? And if I did, what would that mean? My mind is shrouded in a thick fog, and I cannot get my thinking to work to any degree of accuracy.
I think I do love him. I am not really positive what it would feel like, but I think that is what I feel. I -
My thought is cut off sharply by a sudden blackness that has fallen over us both. I am startled by it, and afraid, for some reason.
"Oh, Curunir." Gandalf the White says, looking down at me - why am I
under him?- with great sadness.
"Curunir, what have you done?" - I don't know what to say, what HAVE
Only what was best, best for us all. I chose LIFE. I think I did, anyway.
I begin to say so, to explain myself.
He places a quieting finger over my lips, and shakes his head, saying: "No, don't, it's too late. It's too late now."
He looks very severe now, and he says, in a very different, almost thunderous voice: "It's too late. But I love you, even so. Even now."
Now he is nearly crushing me with his strength, and I hear his voice, far away, far away-
"The Aratar has fallen, now rises the new day - now I am you, and you are - who are you, now, Curumo? Who will you betray this day?" – he kisses me roughly, not gentle at all, and I am alarmed, as well as aroused.
I don't know if I like this new Gandalf.
I know him, but I do not recognize him. He is shockingly different, changed somehow. Power- of a kind I have never had myself –flows
from him in tangible waves of energy. I know, somehow, he could kill
me with a mere glance, and I am suddenly, brutally aware of it.
I want to escape, I need to escape him.
But he has me in thrall, and I lay limply now in his arms, and I suppose he can do with me what he will.
He is staring at me, and I look away, unable to meet his relentless, accusing eyes. I only did what I had to!- I think frantically- I had no choice! Don't you understand, there was no choice? I close my eyes, so I don't have to look into that implacable visage. Intense, disappointed love.
He crushes me tighter, and I gasp in pain. His hands, always so easy with their touch, feel more like the talons of a bird of prey. Much more. Why, I can nearly feel talons!
"We must prepare for what is coming, Saruman. The time is nearly upon us. Prepare!" His mouth on mine, sweet, smoky taste, loving tongue, he kisses me gently now, more familiar.
We are falling, falling - I swear, I can feel the wind in my long hair, my hair is flying all around me, falling -
"Be strong!" he whispers from somewhere, and then there is a hard
jolt, and I open my eyes again and see -
The dream leaves me, like the ending of a beautiful day, and now there is only the night.
In full wakefullness, I see where I really am:
the dragon has dropped me from its grasp, from several feet up, onto the the hard soil of a courtyard. I am at Barad-Dur. In Mordor. Oh, I am in Mordor, and the Dark Lord cannot be far away.
Perhaps- just perhaps- he does not know everything, and still sees me as a loyal and mindless accomplice. I must behave- indeed, I must make it feel true - that all is, as it was, before I decided on trying to obtain the accursed Ring for myself. That I am still a good and loyal servant and partner.
What happened to your "last resort" plan of action for us, Gandalf? I
think to myself angrily.
It is, indeed, too late.
I am confronted by not one, but several large, and shocked looking Orcs- "Sharkey? Saruman? What are you doing here?", one asks me, in genuine surprise,and I tell him I do not know.
Another Orc walks up, and looks at me with a strange, embarrassed expression on his unpleasant face:
"Lord Saruman - I don't know how to say it, so I will just spill it: we gots to throw ya in the clink! I'm sorry, I don't understand, I have to do it, we have to do it, ya know- or he will kill US."
I try to maintain, through my rising horror:
"You must be mistaken! You know better than to dare address me that
The Orc looks at me in dismay, and replies in a shaky voice: "Direct orders, my Lord, from HIM. I likes ya, you know I FEARS ya, but I fears him a little more!"
I don't want their filthy, treacherous paws on me, so I nod and say:
"There is, obviously- a great error. Take me to your Lord, then!"
Might as well face him, and get it over with. I feel waves of nasuea roll through me, but somehow, I keep my stomach intact.
I am going to my death, I think numbly, and I swallow painfully.
We enter the Great Hall of Barad Dur, and my already shattered world
descends into oblivion and terror.
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.