5. Flight to Fangorn Forest
Snow flew on Caradhras…
To control a storm at great distance was no easy thing, even for the mightiest of the Istari. But Saruman required the Pass over the Hithlaegir blocked, and blocked it would be. His focus was complete as he stood atop Orthanc.
About him lay the impregnable defenses of Isengard. With thousands of Orcs and Men within his walled citadel, the only armies which could threaten him here - those of Gondor and Mordor - were both far away and presently bent on destroying each other.
So, he paid no heed to aught which passed southwards. And thus did not sense the dark forms plummeting from the low clouds until they were nearly upon him.
Then, no time to flee, he must fight. Lightning blazed from his staff, destroying his enemies. One, two, three fell from the sky. But there were too many, and soon they were about him, their talons tearing at his cloak, and his staff, above all his staff.
Four, five, six fell, but then the staff was knocked away, and one of his assailants flew off with it. A great beating of wings knocked him off his feet, and talons of merciless strength gripped him. And now he too was borne through the air, away from the Tower.
Too disoriented to make full use of the considerable powers he retained even staffless, he noticed only that the yellow eyes of his captors, usually cold, now blazed in anger. And that he was borne upwards, now to thrice the height of Orthanc, now nearly a league.
Meneldor spoke. "I bear a message from Radagast the Brown."
The Bird-tamer you called me. And so I am. Goodbye, old friend!
The Eagle loosed his grip, and Saruman fell, down, down, down. Arda drew the Istar towards itself, ever faster. He struck the upper branches of an ancient oak of Fangorn, with such force that its trunk was shivered - Saruman's last mortal blow.
But the tree, dying, could not have been happier.
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