Hello everyone, after many, many years I have returned with the last chapters of this tale. Please check back once a week for updates.

I have renamed the story, I hope anyone interested can still find it.

My warmest thanks to all those who reviewed and emailed throughout the years with words of support, I wouldn't be finishing it without you!

Chapter 43 - Pain

Pippin gripped his blade so hard that his fingers had begun to ache.

The sun was rising and every moment the shadows on the plains around Edoras grew lighter, revealing more and more Orcs. Pippin had never seen so many, not even on the banks of the Anduin. It was hopeless, and yet somehow it was not in him to believe there was no chance of escape.

"We cannot give up like this!" he cried, looking up at his companions.

Legolas pushed them back further into the dark as the new light of morning stretched through the open doorway of the great hall. "The city is completely surrounded, the army have formed a great ring around the city. There is no escape, and our hiding may only bring down the wizard's wrath upon the people of the city."

As an Elf, Pippin supposed, Legolas could see far more of their enemies than his own Hobbit sight could reveal.

Eowyn stepped around Legolas, retaking her position at the door. She shook her head when Legolas again attempted to draw her back, and hissed, "It may be hopeless but we can still fight."

In only a day with her at Edoras Pippin had seen the lady's great determination, but he knew that this time it was in vain. Her eyes were wild and desperate, her brow and the hand which gripped her sword glistening in the light. She knew as well as Legolas that there was no escape for them. Pippin could only imagine what he would feel like if it was his own dear little house surrounded by Orcs.

"Saruman is not here for Edoras," Faramir said in a low voice. A stillness had come upon him and Pippin could see the man's mind working. "He is here for her men and her horses."

"When he finds us," Legolas said darkly, "he will force us to reveal where the object of our quest now lies." His eyes flickered to Eowyn, unwilling to speak openly before one not of their fellowship.

"Then we must not tell him," Pippin put in, feeling that this was obvious but not understanding why it needed to be said aloud.

"Saruman has created a force just as devastating as that which spills forth from Barad-dûr, has spent years infiltrating Rohan to strengthen that army and gain a force that could rival the dark tower itself..."

"If we must die to protect our secret then die we must."

Talking of noble deaths was all very well, Pippin thought as he stared up at his two companions, but facing up to the reality of it would be another matter. How could he hide what he knew under threat of pain and fear? He had not been tested and as such he could not know his own strength.

"Perhaps we can achieve more with our knowledge than die to protect it." Faramir had a dark twist to his mouth as he spoke. "Perhaps we can convince Saruman of another truth..."

Legolas' eyes were suddenly alight, but Pippin had no idea what was being proposed. "If we were sure enough of our story..." Legolas trailed off, his brow creased as he fingered the fletching of his arrow. "And there was reason enough to believe it was the truth..."

Faramir nodded, "Precisely, and there is reason enough. Fortunately the fellowship have always taken the least logical of paths."

Eowyn was watching the exchange with eyebrows raised and Pippin almost expected her to interrupt and tell them how foolish they were being.

"This would be a deadly road to take if we did not believe our companions will succeed in their endeavour," Faramir was saying.

"It is your city at stake," Legolas looked to the other with some trepidation.

"I placed my faith in Mithrandir long ago," Faramir said quietly, "and after all, what is another unconquerable army when one already knocks at the gates?"

A smile touched the corners of Legolas' mouth at this, but after a moment he looked grave. "Saruman will not easily take this bait. We may need to make him believe that the knowledge, our truth, is given only under coercion."

"We have no choice but to make him believe it the truth." Faramir's voice was steady, although Pippin saw his gaze shift towards himself.

"You sound like children playing at war-games". Eowyn shook her head scornfully, but Pippin saw understanding and something akin to affection in her words.

Pippin jumped as he heard iron boots climbing the many steps leading up to the great hall.

Faramir stepped forward and grasped Eowyn's wrist, meeting her slightly softened gaze with his own. "Please, lady, go back to your rooms. You are the first daughter of the city and must stay safe to protect your people."

Pippin hoped for a moment that she would agree, but she turned away her head and shook herself free of his hold. "What good would it do to hide now? We must not let the people of the city be taken in their beds, we must raise them to the danger!"

"That would be unwise." The voice came from behind them. They turned as one to see Wormtongue and a group of men cutting off any escape back into the hall.

The figure sitting with his back against the remains of what had once been a rampart of stone did not look up at their approach.

"The towers." Eomer looked across at his two companions in wide-eyed wonderment. "They are beaten into the dust."

Gimli felt equal amazement. Around them was a ruin, where the dwindling remains of a battle of elements still fought on. Their horses' hooves were forced to pick delicately amid a great lake of water, waist high (for a dwarf), with small flames still clinging desperately to the floating debris.

Gimli looked around with some disappointment, feeling it a pity that they themselves had not been given the chance to participate in the destruction of Saruman's fortress.

"Some devilry has been here."

"Not devilry, perhaps, but something with a stronger power than that of Saruman." Aragorn was looking towards the old man sitting not far off. They could not quite see his face, as he was turned to face the forest ringing the outer rim of the rim of Isengard. He seemed the only living thing in the place.

Gimli felt a strange doubt come upon him, and unconsciously clenched his fist around the head of his axe. He exchanged glances with Eomer beside him as Aragorn nudged their horse forwards. The ground was unsteady beneath them, yet Gimli did not fear falling. The horse of Rohan's feet were steady, and together they ploughed through the damp wreckage until they came within a few steps of the old man.

His hair was white, and he wore no hat. White garments, the lower portion grey with murky water, clothed him. He did not seem to hear their approach. This disturbed Gimli more than anything, and an uneasy feeling began to grow inside his chest. The similarity of this figure to Eomer's rumoured description of Saruman was disturbingly close. Eomer too seemed to have sensed this likeness, and his horse was skittish as if disturbed by its rider's feelings.

Gimli sniffed as the smoke from the old man's pipe blew in their direction. It was a wholesome, satisfying smell that reminded him of something far off, or long ago.

"You must excuse us, good sir," Aragorn said as a beginning. Still the figure did not turn to face them, choosing instead to blow a smoke ring in the air. Aragorn glanced back at his companions, raising an eyebrow. "Will you not give us news of what has become of the citadel of Saruman?"

The pipe was removed and carefully set aside. When he still did not face them Eomer drew his mount closer to theirs. "He is a deaf old fool," he said in a half whisper, his eyes intent on theirs. "Or if indeed he is the White Wizard, playing a part, let him turn and face us. We are being poisoned by the smoke of his pipe most likely without knowing it."
The figure seemed to turn slightly as they looked back at him, as though finally acknowledging their presence at last. "White Wizard, son of Eorl? An interesting choice of words, yes, an interesting choice indeed."

That voice! In just a few words Gimli felt his resolve wavering. It seemed almost duelled in its tone. Cold and yet compelling, foreign yet strangely familiar. Gimli began to regret his long standing argument with Legolas over the merits of axe over bow. He would give much for the skill of a bowman at this moment.

Aragorn seemed to have maintained the use of his wits. "Will you not show us your face."

Gimli felt no such calm, fearing that giving the White Wizard another chance to speak would destroy his resolve all together. "Do not hesitate," he hissed to Aragorn.

From his right he heard Eomer speak, "It Is Saruman! We must strike now!"

"No!" The figure turned at last to face them.

"Gandalf! It cannot be!"

Gimli felt himself staring open mouthed as Gandalf, who they all thought they had lost, once again stood before them, holding up his familiar pipe. "There really is nothing like the pipeweed of the Shire."

Aragorn was upon the ground in a moment, and to Gimli it seemed as though the ranger's body had visibly relaxed and shed much of its previous burden. "My dear old friend," he said, "I see you have not changed."

"Ah, but there you are wrong." The familiar face smiled tiredly up at Gimli and Eomer in greeting, then beckoned Aragorn to sit beside him amid the rubble of Isengard. His face had changed, Gimli noticed. He was almost unhealthily thin, his once bright eyes dark and sunken slightly. A vivid bar of flesh had been raised in a line from his eye to the cheek, but his manner and voice remained familiar. "We have both changed much - I have passed through fire and water, and now, at the turn of the tide I return to you as Gandalf the White. All things are now set in motion, and we must also be moving."

Dismounting clumsily from the great height and giving his horse a thankful rub, Gimli asked, "But where are we to go, now you have finally returned to us?"

"To Minas Tirith. Little choice is left. Even now the claw of Mordor strikes them from the East, and unbeknownst to them Saruman and the army of the white hand marches to Edoras and then on into Gondor."

Eomer, it seemed, still did not trust the wizard. It was little wonder, Gimli thought, after being so recently betrayed by another. "You give up my people as a lost cause," the man said with fists clenched in helpless frustration, "yet I cannot so quickly abandon hope for their survival. Why go we not to Edoras?"

Gandalf shook his head quickly, his brow furrowed. "The people of Rohan need fear nothing from Saruman yet," he told Eomer. "They are of use to him, at least for the present, or he would not have formed such a scheme. I have found out much from my inhospitable stay here and I can see now how his mind works. With Rohan's army allied with his own he will march on Gondor from the south, as though on Sauron's orders."

Aragorn rose quickly, "The people of Minas Tirith must be warned."

"They will be," Gandalf assured him.

Like many of Gandalf's answers his vague response was not enough for Aragorn. "I will go"

"You will not overtake the army," Eomer shook his head, "They will have reached Eodoras at first light."

Aragorn went to the reigns of his horse, and stroked the creature upon his nose reassuringly. "They will be delayed a while at Edoras, and now no time can be lost. I do not ask any to follow me."

Gimli had expected such a response and almost smiled at his friend's predictable resolve. "Oh no you don't. You're not leaving me behind."

They both looked to Eomer, yet the young man shook his head. "I would come with you, yet I fear for my sister and uncle. I cannot ride to Gondor until I know they are well."

Gandalf rose to his feet also. "I will also ride with you to Edoras, to see King Theoden," he said. "In time, I hope, we may be able to muster a force to send to Minas Tirith."

Aragorn shook his head. "I fear we have little time - and yet to part again so soon..."

"Fear not, my friend," the wizard said kindly, "Go to the aid of your city, and I will do what I can."

Aragorn raised a faint smile in reply. "It is not yet my city"

"Trust to hope and it may yet turn its face upon us. And do not forget that mountains paths are long and the open plains watched by unfriendly eyes. There is yet another way. You are in haste, and should not forget the road that runs beneath all others, that which no other man may walk. But no more time can be spared for talk. Let us say farewell."

"That would be unwise." The voice came from behind them. They turned as one to see Wormtongue and a group of men cutting off any escape from the hall. …

Pippin gritted his teeth at the voice.

"You had better think carefully before doing anything foolish," the hated man said, never taking his eyes off the lady. "There is more at risk here than your own lives."

Eowyn rounded on him, swinging up her shining blade to point at his face."How long have you been at the call of Saruman, snake? How long have your words poisoned my uncle's thoughts?"

"Be kind enough to leave my emissary in tact, Lady of Rohan."

Pippin spun at the new voice to see the white figure of the wizard slowly ascending the last steps to enter the hall, followed by a large accompaniment of Orcs.

Pippin hadn't known many wizards in his time, and Saruman was as unlike to Gandalf as he could imagine. A long face with a sharp nose and thin lips. His hair was a colour Pippin found difficult to describe; it seemed white, and yet seemingly not through age, drawn back from the face in a harsh way that made Pippin long for Gandalf's familiar, weather-beaten features.

His sharp gaze swept the four figures quickly, and Pippin, meeting the gaze, suddenly felt as though he was laid bare, his innermost feelings read and cast aside.

"Lordly and heroic Grima may not be," the wizard smiled with an air of benevolent amusement, "but he has his uses."

Pippin knew Saruman to be old, older perhaps even than Gandalf, the wizard gave a deceptive air of youth and seemed intense and alive. What disturbed Pippin most, however, was his smile.

Eowyn's hand faltered, and her sword arm fell to rest harmlessly by her side. Pippin saw confusion in her eyes, as though she knew not what she did.

Pacified, Saruman turned his attention to the members of the fellowship who still gripped their weapons. "Your company is somewhat diminished from the hopeful band who set forth from the home of Elrond half-elven many months ago."

Pippin felt as though something was crawling inside him as he resisted the impulse to tell this man everything he had ever known. It was the voice, so kind, warm and compelling - like Gandalf... Then, resisting that association for what seemed like agonising moments, he finally felt the wizard's presence withdraw from his mind.

"You need not try your tricks with us, Saruman," Legolas said coldly, and the Elf's clear, firm voice shook Pippin from the smoke that seemed to have filled his head, "we will tell you nothing."

"Tricks?" The Istar smiled, his tone lightly amused as the edge of his mouth curled upwards. "Such crude devices were sure to have no effect on your mind, Legoloas, son of Thranduil, but there are lesser minds that might have been bent to my will." His gaze flickered to Pippin and the Hobbit drew himself up, resisting the sluggish feeling in his head for the sake of his pride. "What Gandalf sees in these halflings I cannot guess."

Saruman's gaze was raking the Hobbit's mind again, probing gently but insistently into his innermost feelings. Pippin struggled against it but he felt himself becoming more and more confused.

"How then," Faramir interjected, "did they slip so easily through all your nets?"

The wizard's smile hardened. "Sharp your mind may be, son of Denethor, but for all your fabled foresight you see very little."

"But there is no time now for bandying with words. My need is pressing and I will have answers." He moved forwards and slid the lady Eowyn's arm into his. "Bring them," he told Grima, and grasped Pippin's arm also, moving off towards the centre of the hall, dragging the Hobbit with him.

Twisting in the wizard's painful hold, Pippin struggled to keep up with the great strides, while craning his neck around to see what had happened to Legolas and Faramir. They had been seized by several Orcs that had followed their master into the hall and were having their wrists bound before them.

Pippin realised that he was breathing hard, his heart fit to break out of his chest. Saruman's long nails were digging into the soft skin on his arm and he focused on the pain - that at least took his mind off what was to come.

They came into the circle of light cast by the great burning brazier near the centre of the hall, and Pippin looked around at the strained faces of his companions.

"Now my lady." Saruman removed his arm from Eowyn's. "You will draw your King from his hiding place."

"If you think I will raise one hand to aid you..."

"I would consider before you make any threats." Again the wizard seemed amused at their resistance. "There is an army surrounding Edoras that could run your city into the ground while your horsemen still lie a bed. But that is not my wish. Or yours?"

When she did not respond Saruman's eyes became dangerous. Pippin felt fingers suddenly grasping him around the throat, pressing so hard that at once he was choking and spluttering for air. He flailed his arms, trying to break the wizard's grip but every second he grew weaker. His vision was almost consumed by sharp points darkness when suddenly the pressure was gone, and he fell to the floor gasping and sucking in great mouthfuls of the cool air.

When Pippin finally came to himself Eowyn's footsteps were receding as she hurried away to do the Wizard's bidding. Pippin was lying on the floor, still short of breath as his neck had been bruised by the wizard's cruel strength.

Saruman was no longer facing him and was already seeking answers.

Pippin spared one last thought for Frodo, Sam and Merry, and then tried to wipe all memory of them from his thoughts. He concentrated on trivial facts and hoped that the rumours he had heard from the men of Rohan concerning Saruman's mind reading were only idle talk.

Saruman moved forward, and despite his determination to be brave Pippin flinched backwards, now frightened of the wizard's painful touch. But this time Saruman was only stepping closer to Legolas so that the Elf, who Pippin had always thought of as tall, suddenly appeared a slender grey figure against the blazing white of the wizard's robes. "Realise now," Saruman whispered, his long nails that had cut into Pippin's throat now raking the Elf's cheek, "that if any of you attempt to match your will with mine, you will lose."

Legolas met the wizard's gaze but Pippin saw him pale.
"Reveal to me the bearer of the One Ring. Tell me where Isildur's bane can be found."

Only the crackling of the fire broke the silence that followed, and Pippin shrank back, clenching his teeth as the wizard seemed to grow in his anger.

The Orc holding Faramir, at some unspoken command, forced him towards the brazier. Saruman drew a poker from the flames, lifting the heated metal rod so that the thick glowing end was reflected in their eyes.

Pippin squinted through bleary vision as Legolas' calm facade splintered and he lurched forwards, almost breaking his captor's hold. "Do not do this, Saruman," he shook his head, "there is nothing we can tell you."

Pippin couldn't tell if Legolas' plea was part of the plan or a true appeal for mercy, but the Hobbit felt real panic rise within himself.

The Istar calmly ignored the Elf, with his free hand gripping Faramir's bound hands, baring his forearms. "You feared fire, even as a child," Pippin heard the wizard say quietly. "Why was that? The smell, bodies, flesh burning..."

Pippin felt sick. As Faramir gritted his jaw and fought Saruman's hold there was something Pippin recognised in the man's eyes: a dark blinding horror fighting all rational control.

Legolas' voice when he spoke was quiet and imploring. "What can we tell you? We know nothing..."

Pippin, knowing he had to do something, lunged forwards without any thought of what he would do afterwards, just hoping to knock Saruman away from his purpose. He should have known better. A vicious hand caught him about the waist before he had covered half the distance and an Orc gripped his struggling body. He fought, but could not break the hold.

The hiss of the fire on flesh filled his ears and he cried out, unaware of everything but anger for his friend. He struggled, but the Orc pressed him firmly to the paved floor of the hall, a knee in his back and a large hand on the back of his head. After a brief struggle he forced himself to be still, making his body limp and his breathing calm.

The room suddenly seemed very quiet, the fire crackled, and the Orcs' metal shod feet shifted across the hard floor. There was another sound also, that of laboured breaths, which he took to be Faramir's.

"What are you willing to sacrifice?" Saruman's voice now echoed in the quiet space, and Pippin craned his neck upwards to try and see what was happening.

At last the pressure eased and he was dragged to his feet by the broad-armed Orc who gripped him by the hood of his cloak and held him upright. His head swam and he felt he would be sick.

He caught Legolas' eyes first and the anger in them mirrored his own. The Elf was sagging slightly in the Orcs' hold, his face very pale.

Pippin shifted his gaze and saw with a sudden horror that the wizard was holding Faramir close to the brazier, gripping his hair as he thrust the man's face over the flames. Pippin could already see the ends of Faramir's long hair melting in the heat, as the man struggled for breath and tried to turn his head away from the heat and the fumes.

"Please," Pippin said, forcing the words through his aching throat, "please stop."

"I will tell you all I can," Legolas followed, reaching his bound hands forwards. "That is all I can do, you must believe..."

Pippin was sure this was the truth this time, the situation had rapidly tumbled out of their control.

"Tell me then," Saruman said, making no move. "Tell me... where is the One Ring?"

Legolas licked his lower lip as he tried to recount a swift and coherent account of the events at Parth Gallen, of Gollum's death, Aragorn, Gimli and Pippin's capture by the Orcs."

As far as Pippin knew, this much had been truth, but as Legolas spoke the next words Pippin nearly needed to hide his face to not show his disbelief.

Legolas told of a decision – the remaining Hobbits set out towards Gondor, holding to shadows in the footsteps of the Orcs until they were able to rejoin with Aragorn and Gimli. With both Isildur's heir and the Ring, Minas Tirith would become a stronghold for the enemies of Sauron.

"...And we three stayed behind," Legolas finished, his eyes showing nothing of the lie he had told, "to muster the forces of Rohan and lend extra strength to Gondor's victory." The Elf slumped now, as if he had told all.

Saruman finally stepped back, letting Faramir fall from his hold. The Orc holding Pippin also loosened his grip and he struggled free, running to the man's side.

"Too simple. You are far too easy to persuade. Every creature has its breaking point. The very first of my Orc creations discovered this very quickly."

Pippin could see that Legolas' entire figure was straining with anger. "You sicken me, Saruman. Much of this was known to you already..."

"Violence serves its purpose. You will be less likely to defy me in the future."

Pippin turned his head to see Legolas spit at the wizard's feet, and instantly wished he hadn't. The Elf was immediately beaten to the ground under the fists of an Orc.

"Get them up," Saruman met Pippin's furious gaze with a steady smile as his friends and he were dragged to their feet.

Faramir was already sagging in the uruks' hold, his hair shading his face from view, and Legolas was pale, his eyes darker than usual, bruises already appearing on his pale skin.

"I wanted to hear the story from your own lips - defying me is foolish, and learning so now may preserve your lives that little longer."

There was silence for a moment before Faramir lifted his head and spoke. "I once defended your name." As he addressed Saruman his voice was not without strength, but it seemed to gain conviction as he continued. "I justified your noble past as falling under the weight of a trial too great. But you have lost all nobility you might once have possessed, nothing remains save a twisted desire to befoul anything you cannot conquer. I would not defend your name now were it to save my own life."

Saruman did not seem angered by this, and Pippin saw instead a look of calculating interest. "Perhaps it is that you simply do not understand. Your weakness for others blinds you to what I aim to achieve."

"Nay." Legolas shook his head, breathing out softly. "There is nothing noble in your intentions Saruman, nothing that can justify what you have become."