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Chapter Two
The Fellowship reached snow as they neared Caradhras, though, and this both elevated and depressed their moods. Initially the hobbits were as gleeful as children, frolicking around and chunking snowballs at each other which frequently hit others than those intended. The first time this happened, Merry had been aiming for Sam but pegged Aragorn instead. As he stammered his apology, a snowball suddenly splatted against the back of his head, thrown by Boromir who grinned and ducked to avoid the one thrown his way by Pippin. Mithrandir and Gimli stood back watching, and Legolas claimed to be above such frivolities, but no one was really watching him, and occasionally a snowball smashed into someone’s hair and no one could tell from whence it came. The snowball fight, juvenile as it might have been, proved a true turning point for the Fellowship, in an oddly immature way. Already they had learned to fight and think together, outsmarting a werewolf that Mithrandir easily identified as a spy just happening to wander upon their party. Sleeping together in the rain had made them miserable together, and with Aragorn, Gimli, Boromir, and Legolas dedicating a certain amount of time to training the hobbits in swordsmanship each night after they made camp, the group was learning to fight together. But the snowball fight was what taught them to laugh together, and that was probably more important.
At least Emerald mused so to herself, frequently reading up on their adventures in her book. Her group wasn’t having nearly as much fun, though they also weren’t under nearly the same pressure. After a couple days of wandering aimlessly, Emerald had decided they might as well visit Saruman again. She wasn’t sure what, if anything, she could safely tell him, but she would have to think of something. Then Beven could look through his library and see if there was anything to be found about the Silmarils or Ivorwen.
The Fellowship began climbing Caradhras, aiming for ‘Redhorn Pass’ as it was more commonly called, on the same day that Emerald and her company came once again upon the domineering tower of Orthanc.
“I don’t know. I might rather stay out in the forest,” Tegryn muttered, his eyes creeping up the tower. “Is it as . . . I mean, is it any better inside?”
Alagedh snorted, shaking his head, “Worse. Everything is angular and cold and dark.”
“Yes, the forest is sounding rather appealing . . .”
“Oh, hush up. You lot whined about maybe having to stay out here, and now I’ve figured out how to bring you in and you’re going to change your minds? Now come on,” Emerald scolded. Indeed, there had been much discussion about whether they should remain hidden or visit alongside her, and finally the latter had been decided upon. It made much more sense for Emerald to have an escort than to be off wandering around Middle Earth on her own again.
Saruman seemed to have expected their arrival, and even as they rode up the long winding path into Orthanc, he was slinking down the steps to greet them, arms open and robes billowing in the winds.
“Ah, my pet, you have returned!” he beamed, instantly going to her and holding his hands out to help her dismount. “How kind of you to visit a lonely old wizard.” As uncomfortable as it made her to be in such close proximity to the crooked old man, Emerald accepted his help and returned his greeting.
“Yes, and I’m afraid I had to bring some brothers and a guard this time. I was in quite a lot of trouble after running off last time, you know,” she explained quickly before any suspicions could be stirred up. This was perfectly understandable to Saruman, of course, though she could see by the narrowed eyes he studied them all through that they would need to appear oblivious to the goings on. “Anyways, I figured the more the merrier on a visit, right?”
This appeased him and he agreed, “Of course. It will be nice to hear voices around these halls – Elven voices, I mean.” He wouldn’t be able to hide that his servants were a cast of gnarled orcs. “Come in. You there! Take their horses to the stables,” he called out to one of the very monsters Emerald had been remembering with a shudder. The creature sulked over and clearly it took great effort from the men to not show their horror. Hergest’s face went quite pale and Beven nudged him from behind as Saruman and Emerald led the way into the great tower.
It was obvious from the glimmer in Saruman’s eye that he wished to speak with Emerald immediately. But seeing as how she still hadn’t figured out what news she was bringing him, it was important for her to put off the meeting for some time.
So as to appear nonchalant, she offered to Saruman, “We have been traveling for so many days now that I really could use a bit of a rest.”
“Will you dine in the hall tonight?”
“Of course,” she nodded, and Saruman seemed content with this. Bellowing for another orc to prepare rooms for them, Saruman himself quickly showed the men around while Emerald slipped off to nap. She claimed the same room she’d had the last time, not bothering to ask if this was all right. She doubted any of the orc servants would dare argue with her on it at any rate.
Though she had only been fibbing about needing a nap, Emerald did in fact fall fast asleep. Alagedh came to retrieve her for supper but, seeing her curled into a corner of the great bed with her dark lashes fluttering against her cheeks, he couldn’t find it within himself to rouse her. So he pulled a blanket over her and explained to Saruman that she was too exhausted from the trip. The white wizard seemed unsettled but said nothing; the rest of their party groaned inwardly at having to dine alone with Saruman. Despite his cheer at seeing Emerald, to them he was gruff and distant and rarely spoke unless it was required, but neither did they feel comfortable conversing amongst themselves with him present.
Emerald awoke long after the sun had set on the other side of the forest, leaving Orthanc even more bitter and cold than it had been during the day. A fire had been built, its warmth chasing away the frigidity that had set into the rest of the stone tower, and for this she was grateful, though the idea of some orc creeping around her room while she slept was more than a little disconcerting. Her fingers and nose were chilled, so grabbing her book, she settled down as near to the orange flames as she possibly could, the blanket draped loosely around her shoulders.
“What am I to tell Saruman?” she sighed, turning the pages. Her parents were well, though her mother slept little with her gone. Gildas was unregistered. Arwen pined for Aragorn and Aragorn dreamed of Arwen. The Fellowship was miserable, climbing as they were through freezing temperatures in the dark. Mithrandir and Aragorn had been arguing for days about how best to get over the mountains, and it seemed Aragorn’s suggestion had won – “won” not really being the right word, since because of it the Fellowship were climbing a snowy mountain in the freezing dead of night. Her heart went out to them, especially the poor hobbits who seemed to be taking the weather the worst.
“They’re going the wrong way,” a raspy voice whispered. Emerald snapped the book shut and glanced quickly around the room, but there was no one present.
“Who’s there?” she demanded any ways, rising slowly and keeping her back to the fire.
The voice repeated, “They’re going the wrong way. They will not survive the mountain.” It was not any voice Emerald could recognize, certainly not Váromë’s lilting twitter.
“What do you mean? Why will they not survive the mountain?”
“They’re going the wrong way,” the voice said once more, and then would say no more, no matter how many times Emerald demanded to know who was there. With a nervous huff of air, Emerald collapsed back to the ground and pulled her knees to her chest. What a grim warning, though from whom? She was now in an impossible situation. If she did nothing, perhaps the voice had been telling the truth and some horrible event would befall the Fellowship and they would be killed. If she did something, though, she could simply be sending them into worse danger.
But then, when she seriously considered things, she had yet to hear from evil forces: meaning it wasn’t as though Melkor or Sauron had sent any messengers to her with false prophecies or warnings. The only time she had yet heard from anything evil, it had been that spy of Saruman’s. But in this case, that was not Saruman’s voice, and he most likely didn’t know about the Fellowship at any rate. If he didn’t know, his servants surely didn’t know.
Emerald drew an invisible map of the mountains on the stone floor with her fingers. Aragorn had pressed to take Redhorn Pass, but Mithrandir had seemed rather adamant that the mountain would fail them and they would need to take the “dark, secret path.” When she had asked Beven some days before what Mithrandir could possibly mean by that, it was Hergest who had answered.
“Moria is right there, right? Beneath Caradhras, Celebdil, and Fanuidhol?”
“That’s not a secret, though,” Alagedh had argued. “Even I know of it, and seeing as I’m usually the last person to learn of anything . . .” He gave Emerald a pointed look; Hergest and Tegryn had begun to figure things out but he still felt hopelessly oblivious.
Beven agreed, “It’s not secret really, no, but it is rather dark. It’s been deserted since the balrog was released there – dwarves, always getting in over their heads . . .”
“You think Mithrandir is going to take the Fellowship through Moria? What makes you think that?” Tegryn asked casually, but Emerald saw the prying for what it was and ignored it, instead musing, “I can’t see what Mithrandir’s point would be in that. It would be too dangerous . . .”
However, now looking at things as a whole, Emerald couldn’t understand why Mithrandir would defer to Aragorn’s plan unless he was certain it would either work or fail – in which case they could take his alternate route. But why waste time, and what if they didn’t get the opportunity? Though she didn’t trust the voice as far as she could identify it, she did trust Mithrandir. If he thought the alternative passage was better, then that’s the path they should take. She wasn’t certain why he had agreed to Aragorn’s plan, but it wouldn’t work anyways. Caradhras at this time of year was usually impassable anyways. The danger, then, was that the Fellowship would get to the top, be snowed in, and slowly freeze to death, unable to get back down.
No, Emerald had to stop them before they got too far up the mountain. Mithrandir had a second plan that he clearly thought was valid. All she would do was meddle a bit and force them to plan B, for their own good.
Her stomach suddenly growled, so Emerald put her book away, wrapped the blanket more tightly around her shoulders, and swung her door open. The hallway was empty, and she doubted herself in finding the kitchens in this stone maze, but a light at the end of the hall invited her closer. Upon approach, she found Saruman standing, gazing out the window at the dark night. He stood so still, unblinking and pale, that had his breath not every few seconds tickled the candle flame in his hand, Emerald would have been sure he was a standing corpse.
“S-Saruman?”
Suddenly he sprang to life, turning his jagged-toothed grin to her, “Ah, Lady Emerald. You slept through supper.”
“Yes . . . I’m afraid I was more weary than I thought.”
“But I am sure you are hungry now? Come, child,” he motioned for her to follow. In his study, a plate and goblet were waiting, warm as though he had expected her at any minute. Again the timing gave Emerald a shiver down her spine. Here she was, trusting her life to a man that she knew better than to trust. Saruman’s dark eyes watched her as she devoured the food but avoided the wine in the goblet.
“No wine? Right. Tea? Cider? My kitchens are at your disposal, Princess.” Cider would be lovely, and almost as soon as he had barked the order, an orc hobbled in, balanced a trey in his twisted hands. “Leave us.”
Emerald tried to think rapidly as she ate. Saruman was a powerful wizard, she knew, and as clever as he was evil. If she asked him how to prevent someone from crossing the mountains, he would no doubt have an answer and the means to employ it. However, enlisting his help meant telling him why,, and surely it wasn’t safe to tell him that a hobbit was carrying the ring to Mordor to destroy it.
As though scanning over her mind and seeing the internal debate raging there, Saruman calmly pushed her empty plate away and asked, “Now tell me, Lady Emerald, for I have been awaiting your return with news. Perhaps you can answer a question of mine, or perhaps it is unimportant. My spies have found a strange party, most unusual in its components, headed South. Might you know anything about this party?”
Well now Emerald couldn’t not say anything. Either he already knew and was testing her, or he would soon learn and then no longer trust her, but she wanted to keep his alliance a bit longer; possibly then she could find a way to protect the Fellowship from him. If he was going to learn, then, it had best come from her so she could continue to claim faithful servant. What was the worst he could do? He couldn’t strike Frodo dead from here. His army was still being built and wouldn’t be ready for some time yet to fight against Mordor. The best he could do was send some trusted spies after the Fellowship, but it would take days to catch up with them, and by then they would hopefully be hidden once again.
“They are the Fellowship of the Ring,” she blurted out, making a split decision and hoping with everything in her it was the best one.
“The Fellowship of the Ring?”
“The Council . . . Elrond’s Council decided it would be best to . . .” But no. She couldn’t tell him.
“To—“
“To use the Ring against Mordor. They are taking the ring to Gondor. Isildur’s heir is with them, and the son of the steward of Gondor.”
“But that is exactly the plan I proposed that Gandalf the Grey so quickly dismissed!” he bellowed, jumping up and taking a quick pace around the tight room. It was more emotion and action than Emerald had ever seen from the wizard; she gasped and pulled back in her chair.
Thinking quickly, she continued, “Yes, he said that, but the truth is that they just don’t want you involved with them. They say you have grown power hungry and would dominate their efforts, while they purpose to do this for the free people of Middle Earth.” Emerald couldn’t help but smile and inwardly pat herself on the back. It was a very eloquent and convincing speech.
Saruman, too, seemed to buy it, and sighed, “Yes, yes, they would say that, wouldn’t they? But you know the truth, pet! They are planning this without an army, the fools! They hope to raise troops in Gondor? Troops of men that will fall at the hands of the orcs like mice to an army of cats. Fools!”
“Yes, my lord,” it felt as odd to Emerald to say as it apparently seemed to him to hear it, though it brought a smile to his ghastly face and calmed him down, “but you see, they have set themselves up quite easily to be forced to join forces with you.”
“And how is this?” he asked, sliding into his chair beside her.
“Well you see, they are going to attempt to cross Caradhras—“
“Yes, yes, that is where my spies saw them headed,” he nodded, and Emerald felt she had made the right decision to speak up.
“If we could but keep them from making the pass, they would be forced to seek an alternate route, right? What are the ways to cross the mountains?”
“One can go north and cross on the far side of Angmar, though they would not take so long – this would add months to their travels. If Caradhras is blocked, that leaves them only Moria or the pass near here.”
“Right. I mean, they have the hobbits with them, and a dwarf. They can’t exactly just trek across a mountain top, and Mithrandir is beginning to look his age.” Again, Saruman grinned at this. Emerald was quite the natural at this evil conspirator thing. She supposed it came from growing up with all brothers. “Do you think they would really risk Moria?”
“They are foolish enough that I would not put it past them. However, were they to be assaulted within the mines . . . let us just say that I have some sway there. I could retrieve what was mine.”
“Or, of course, they choose the pass that brings them near here, where any manner of things might happen to convince them that they need your aid.”
“Yes, yes,” he nodded, then fell silent. His dark eyes bore into the flames. The silence dragged on until Emerald wondered if now he had died; he certainly looked on the brink of it. But at long last he spoke, apparently having been deep in thought, “A storm. It is not uncommon for snow to block the pass of Caradhras at this time of year. Doing so would not implicate me, and that is what we wish.”
“Perfect!”
Saruman was still another long moment, then quickly pushed himself from the chair and laughed, “Princess Emerald, my sweet little pet! You have proven yourself as faithful as I had hoped. Even as a little girl, you had that look in your eye. I knew you would be a wise girl and most helpful. You and I are so much alike, so much for the better. But now, the hour is late and you are near frozen, I’m afraid. Retire now that you have eaten and sleep easy.”
“And the storm?” she pressed, rising.
“Caradhras will be impassible long before the sun rises,” he promised. She nodded, forced a smile, then left him to his scheming in his lonely tower. He really was quite mad and also quite gullible.
Her own room seemed lonely and uninviting, though. The fire had died and she didn’t dare call one of those creatures to relight it. So she ventured back into the hall and knocked on a door which just happened to be Tegryn’s.
“What is it , Emmy?” he yawned, apparently too tired to be worried.
“I’m cold and lonely. Can I sleep with you?”
“Go sleep with Beven or Hergest. Or Alagedh . . .”
“Oh shut up.”
So amused was he by his own joke, though, that he decided to be uncommonly charitable. Moving aside to let her in, he sighed, “Of course you can have my bed. Have any of us ever said no to you?”
“Only you,” she laughed, clambering beneath his covers.
“Well someone has to keep you in line . . .”
She waited until he had joined her beneath the covers to ask playfully, “Are you really in love with a girl in Rivendell?”
“No.”
“Oh. That’s a shame. It would be rather lovely to have a wedding when all this is over . . . I’m sure you’ll be a bit more grown up after this mess. You might actually end up making a rather good husband . . . some day . . . after a lot of growing up . . .” she mused, her eyes drifting closed.
There was silence and she thought Tegryn had already fallen back sleep, but just before she passed into a dreamworld she felt a kiss on her hair and heard him whisper, “Thank you, little sister.”
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