With Hope and Without Hope

Chapter 24: Hope Fails

As the orc brought the man to Saruman, resentment bubbled within the wizard. Five of them, five prisoners he had, and not one had given him the answers he required. He was confident in the strength of his power. The melody of his voice ensnared those of weaker mind, creating the desire within them to please him. Under his enchantment, all but the strongest minds eventually bent to his will.

To draw answers to specific questions, however, was not truly his power. Even a weak mind was able to focus on such an overt act and resist. After some effort, he had accomplished small gains from the process, such as the names of his prisoners. But said prisoners would not relinquish the knowledge he required. Such a task demanded more drastic, albeit traditional, means of persuasion.

Saruman clenched his teeth as he recalled the dwarf and elf, one more obstinate than the other. With the halflings he had to take more care. The one now serving the uruk would weary before long. Clearly both halflings would die easily, but they would not perish before he wished it, and not without revealing the location of the one who carried the Ring. How that one had escaped his uruks he could not imagine, but there would be no escape for these. He thought perhaps they knew so.

Now, as Saruman walked across the main chamber, he considered the one who trailed behind him. Aragorn. That name had changed much. Son of Arathorn. Chief of the Dúnedain. Heir of Isildur.

Surely there was more here to be gained than simply information. His frustration with the lot from Imladris eased, his need for information receded, replaced by curiosity over the potential held in the man and his destiny.

If he could not have the Ring of Power, the heir to the throne of Gondor was perhaps ample compensation. Mayhap he need not wrest from the Dúnadan what he knew of the Ring or the halfling who carried it.

The Dúnadan was of a strong will and mind, no doubt, for he had kept his true name from him on the plains. Saruman had the means to weaken the man's mind further, if need be. That would likely prove unnecessary, however, for Saruman was stronger.

Saruman saw it clearly: the heir of Isildur bowing before him and then leading an army out of Isengard at his command. With this man under his control, he could influence King and Steward alike, even change the course of the coming war.

He had thought only to make him speak. Instead, Saruman would speak to him. He would show him the new way, where Saruman's word was done. He reined in his growing fervor as he changed direction and led the orc and the Dúnadan into another shadowy alcove.

Turning to look at the man, he resisted the urge to laugh. "Stand before me, Man!" The man brought before him was haggard, filthy, and maimed. "How wretched. The future king of Gondor indeed!" He saw the resentment the man failed to hide and the anger that lay beneath and was glad. His emotions were near the surface. "You are just as feeble and disgraceful as your ancestor, who bears the burden of all you and your dear ones now suffer. I am sure he looks upon you with pride," Saruman said, lacing his words with contempt and his voice with his persuasive power. He saw then impatience in the man's face. Rather presumptuous, this one. He likely had long tired of waiting to learn what fate awaited him. He would wait no longer.