2. The Worm Turns
He finally loosed his iron grip, and spoke to the huge Uruk Hai:
“Take her to the chamber of Master Grima. Awaken the lazy beast- and tell him to prepare this girl some food- and give her something warm to wear. Then he is to return her to me.” He paused, and then added: “Untouched, and unspoiled!”
Lurtz grunted softly, and Jahi, despite her terror of him, could not help but discretely run her appreciative gaze over his powerful, wonderfully muscled torso. His shoulders were massive, and his arms- they looked as if they could rip a tree in half.
He looked at her steadily, and then spoke to her in a snarling voice, that seemed to be the only way he could speak:
“You heard him. Follow me, now! Nice and easy.”
She looked back at Saruman, and he met her eyes with his own cold expression.
“Please, my Lord -” she tried, but he merely smiled slightly under his white beard, and then turned away.
“Your Lord, am I? Well, we shall see. At this moment, you are merely an intruder, possibly a thief, and probably truly a spy!”
He slithered back under the heavy covers silently, and then said mockingly:
“You had a chance to escape me, and yet you have come back, of your own volition. I do not know whether this is more suspect, or merely insane.”
As she obediently followed the Uruk out the door, she turned back and answered quietly:
“I did not wish to escape from you! Can you not see that?”
And then she was at the door of Grima – known elsewhere as the Worm – Wormtongue.
Lurtz hammered on the door, and Jahi wondered what he would be like- she had admired him immensely- he had left his own people to live with and serve the great Istar.
Truly, a man of immaculate taste. Hated and scorned for his choice.
The door opened slowly, and a pale, black haired man peered out. Lurtz pushed past him, and Jahi followed.
Grima sputtered a protest, but quickly fell silent. No one wanted to argue with an Uruk. They could kill a man or elf in a matter of seconds, and rejoice in the kill.
Lurtz was only somewhat taller than Saruman, but over Grima, he towered greatly. And the smaller man now looked very unhappy, and rather worried.
“What is the meaning of- who is this girl? Why have you brought her here to me?”
Lurtz rumbled his reply in an impatient tone:
“Lord Saruman orders you to take the girl and feed her- clothe her- and then return her to him.”
He leaned far down to Grima, and sneered - “And keep her unspoiled- that means: keep your cock in your trousers, gutter-man!” He laughed cruelly, and Grima went even paler.
Lurtz left without another word, slamming the door behind him so hard it echoed.
Grima turned to the young problem he had just inherited, and said nothing for a moment. Then a strange look came over him, as if he had just thought of something pleasant, or amusing, and he smiled broadly.
“Did he- did he fuck you?” he leered, grinning, “Saruman, not his beast of burden, I mean.”
Jahi gasped, shocked. She had not expected this to be what he said. She was not sure if she was more appalled or impressed.
Grima grinned ever wider, and continued.
“Did he? He will, you know. He will spread your pretty little legs and tear you open! I’ve seen him do it many times, fair-face! He fucks them till they are ripped apart, and then, he gives them to the orc-filth! Rohirrim women, Gondorian – they don’t all get used for breeding!”
He spat on the ground.
“Not to me, though. Never anything for me.”, he whispered bitterly.
Jahi could only listen to his words, stunned and amazed.
Is that what he had planned for her? To use her, and then throw her to the hulking Uruk Hai and orcs?
She recalled how he had treated her before: not gently by the usual standards, but he had not truly harmed her. It had seemed that for him, he had been gentle – he had certainly not torn her apart. And he had released her.
Was Grima lying? She looked at him. No, his face wore the smug assurance of one who has just confided a wicked secret. Most likely, he spoke the truth.
Finally, she found her voice: “I- I am not afraid of his touch. I came here of my own free will.”
Grima looked at her as if he had just discovered an unspeakable secret. He looked totally bewildered.
“You came – here- to Isengard? On your own?? Why?”
She looked away from his face- he seemed to stare through her robe with his eyes, and she shivered, suddenly cold. Perhaps I will get something warmer to wear, eventually, she mused.
“I came here- because of my own desire. I wish to serve him.”
Grima sat down hard on his bed, as if he had been struck in the face. “You are joking, are you not?”
“No, I am not!” she answered angrily.
Grima shook his head, never taking his eyes off her. “Then you are mad. I only live, because I know things he wishes to know- and I am wise enough, even for a worm- to know to string him along, and dole out the information slowly. He would torture it all out of me, at once, but I take care to not know it all at one time!”
He looked at her gravely, and she could see the ghost of the man he might have been, if he had not become this. She found she no longer revered him. He had no respect for Saruman, no love, no loyalty.
“Do you not realize” he said softly, “Saruman hates the children of men? Perhaps he may rut you, but because he is willing to put his cock in you is not assurance he will not murder you! Or perhaps- you will become one of the Uruk breeders! Yes, would you like that? But listen, I will help you, if you let me. I pity you.”
He beckoned her to come closer, and she walked forward, reviling the nearness of him.
“Listen to me, and keep your lips shut- at least until I tell you to open them! For you already owe me something, now- but I will help you escape him. And for myself, I shall have what I desire as well!”
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.