With Hope and Without Hope

Chapter 55: Breaking

Aragorn climbed the narrow stone steps that led from the jail, silent as only a Ranger could be in the darkness. He felt the presence of the Nazgûl and knew Saruman would be near. Where he found one, he was sure to find the other.

Sword in hand once more, he felt as if he were emerging from quicksand. The cold steel of his sword had been like a gasp of fresh air, and he grasped it as if it were drawing him out of the muck. Rather than question the fortune of finding Andúril in Edoras, Aragorn determined to use his weapon at once.

After returning the Dúnadan's sword, Hama had announced that at first light he would request an audience with the king to decide the fate of Merry and Gimli, for their imprisonment was in dispute. For the remaining dark hours before dawn, they were to remain in Hama's custody. Hama felt they were safer by his side than in a cell with no avenue of escape.

Pippin had followed Merry and Gimli, and the three had tried to convince Aragorn to do the same. But Aragorn would hear nothing of safety. His will and reason had begun to return to him, more so since laying hands upon his sword. While his strength had not fully returned, his determination had.

His greatest desire was to face Saruman with a clear if reckless mind and deny him obeisance, even if it were his last act. He knew his mood was dangerous, and that he cared little was perhaps the greatest testimony of such. Thus had Aragorn resolved to face an Enemy he could not kill and the wizard who had arranged to deliver him to that Enemy.

He slowed as the stairwell brightened with light from above and listened for a break in the silence. At first, only the guttering of a distant torch came back to him. Then there was a new sound, faint, whispering. Then again: footsteps. Light steps, neither of man nor woman. He pressed himself against the curved inner wall. The one approaching carried no torch, yet advanced rapidly. Before he could think more on it, the person rounded the corner.

Aragorn drew his sword on Saruman. "You!" he said hoarsely, accusation heavy in his voice.

Saruman narrowed his eyes from a few steps above, in one sweep taking in Aragorn's weapon and his disposition. A sweep of his staff countered the sword.

Aragorn had lost much, but to his relief, not all. He swung at the staff with all he had. Saruman's staff jumped from his hands, clattering down the steps behind Aragorn. Saruman's eyes widened momentarily. Saruman clearly had underestimated him, unless Aragorn looked far worse than he felt. "You waste your strength, Dúnadan."

"You waste your words. I hear them no more." Though the compulsion to answer had greatly diminished, it had not entirely left Aragorn. As Saruman had spoken, the muddy waters had begun to gather round his ankles and draw him down once more. If he listened further, he feared he would feel the tug of coercion once more.

"How came you by that sword?" Saruman said.

"Silence!" Aragorn cried, reveling in the reversal of position. He pushed the tip of the blade to Saruman's neck. The wizard leaned back, but did not take his eyes off of the man. Aragorn was sorely tempted to follow through with his sword's threat. "I should slay you where you stand," he muttered. And he could...

Saruman chuckled. "Yes, you should. You have the right, truth be told—"

"I said silence!" Aragorn shouted, pressing the blade into Saruman's throat. The ground had begun to soften, the stone beneath him turning to quicksand once more. He was not free. What must he do? His fey mood intensified. He watched as blood trickled down the wizard's throat. What to do with him? Where had he been headed? "From where have you come?"

Saruman was silent for a long minute, unreadable as ever. "The Golden Hall. A rather dangerous place for you right now, I dare say."

Aragorn narrowed his eyes. Did Saruman not want him in the king's Hall? Or was this a lure to bait him there? "Then why did you leave? Is not the Nazgûl there? I know you treat with the Nazgûl. I know your bargain with him. Did your negotiations go poorly?" The words were bitter on his tongue.