In the Ruins//Legolas

Chapter 27; The Strength of One Gaze

"So... what's your name?" Durion asked the greasy man that dragged him by his chains up the tower of Isengard.

"Keep quiet!" The man hissed like a snake.

"Listen, you have no idea what's coming and-" The breath was knocked out of him when he was slammed into a nearby wall, a cold hand wrapped tightly around his neck. Durion's eyes, previously reluctantly curious, now grew wide with the sudden outburst.

"If it wasn't for the wizard, the man, the elf and the dwarf Rohan would be Saruman's and Eowin would be mine!" The man shouted. Durion frowned. The wizard? It couldn't be Gandalf or Saruman, that much was clear. Could it be that Radagast the Brown joined the three hunters? Or maybe...

Alatar? Pallando?

The longing for his teachers sung a wailing song in his chest. It has been so long since he had seen them last.

"But you all..." The man shook with rage. "You just had..." To his right, Durion caught a glimpse of a metal flash. "...to ruin it!" Just in time, Durion turned his head to the side, avoiding the swipe of a knife that would cut into his eyes. His ear caught the swipe instead. A yelp left him, tears welled up in his eyes as warm blood ran down the side of his neck. His hands jerked towards his ear, but the mithril chains stopped him from raising them that high. He feels blood drip onto his forearm and looks up to glare through the pain.

"You will regret that." He grits out.

"And what will you do? You can barely stand." The man snarled.

"I won't be your biggest problem." Durion told him and then he was jerked by the chains forward.

"Nor will I be yours."

"You have fought many wars and slain many men, Theoden King, and made peace afterwards. Can we not take counsel together as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?" Saruman was calling down when Durion and the man climbed up to the very top of the tower.

"We shall have peace." A strong, deep voice called up in response. "We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold and the children that lie dead there! We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows we shall have peace!" Durion took an amazed look around. The Isengard was flooded. Water still lingering in some craters left behind by the uprooted trees. And what was the most amazing of all, in the distance, Durion spotted something he only heard stories of. Ents.

"Gibbets and crows! Dotard! What do you want, Gandalf Grahame?" What? "Let me guess, the key of Orthanc? Or perhaps the keys of Barad Dur itself? Along with the crowns of the seven Kings and the rods of the Five Wizards!" It couldn't be...

"Your treachery has already cost many lives." By Valar, it is! "Thousands more are now at risk. But you could save them, Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's counsel." Durion struggled against the chains and the man's hold, wanting to peer over the edge to spot the wizard.

"So you have come here for information. I have some for you." Saruman raises his hand, in it lies the Palantir. Durion stills in his struggles, the memory of the flaming eye gazing down at him haunting him still. "Something festers in the heart of Middle Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the great eye has seen it! Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon. You are all going to die! But you know this, don't you, Gandalf? You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor. This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned King!" Saruman shouts down at Aragorn. "Gandalf does not hesitate to sacrifice those who are closest to him, those he professes to love! Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."