The Littlest Warrior

Chapter 4 - White Wizards and Betrayal

Buried deep in the forests at the foot of the Misty Mountains stood the fortress of Isengard, home of the White Wizard Saruman. Yes, fortress, for that is what it was, a fortress gifted to Saruman by Steward Beren of Gondor for his help in overthrowing their enemies. Supposedly a place of learning and knowledge, a place where wizards and healers alike came to learn and teach; it was slowly becoming a place of questionable repute.

For many years the evil of the dark lord Sauron had spread, infecting everything it touched like some primeval all-encompassing pestilence. The land was the first to show the ill effects, for wherever Sauron’s interest lingered, nothing of beauty grew. The trees were next. The mighty and beautiful Greenwood the Great; ancient, and wise, its spirit was more difficult to corrupt, to control and infect; but eventually even it began to succumb. Slowly but steadily the evil spread, like a cognizant cancerous sore upon the earth. To the outside world, Saruman was thought to be a compassionate patron, the Wizard who came to the aid of those in need. A friend to Rohan and Gondor, compatriot and benefactor to the elves and the folk of the Shire, but nothing could have been further from the truth. Secretly, covertly, deep in the bowels of Isengard, away from knowing eyes, Saruman plied his trade.

Potions, poisons, and spells of all manner were practiced in his darkened abode, and it was rumored that the roads near Isengard were no longer safe to travel. Stories abounded that there were things more foul than Orcs to be found behind the gates of the Wizard’s tower. Strangers, tradesmen, and passersby became more wary, more cautious – better to go the long way ‘round than to fall victim to the evil that seemed to permeate the very air that sat so still around the Wizard’s domain.

And if someone went missing – the disappearance was usually credited to the distance between realms, just another wayward soul lost on the roads who would eventually turn up – somewhere. If too much time passed then the blame was laid on the growing activity of Orcs or Trolls or other foul beasts.

And so these tales remained just rumors, rumors spread by men, who were known for both their ignorance and their superstition. These were things that were not to be believed, for such things could not possibly be true of a White Wizard, one so closely aligned with the Maia and the Valar. Those who knew Saruman, or thought they did, were not wont to believe in such tales. Saruman had always been their friend, or at least it had seemed so.

But Saruman was besotted with the concept of power. Power, all-encompassing, all-consuming. He craved it, lived it, breathed it. The promise of it was more than even he, a Wizard, could withstand; and so he fell. Deeper and deeper into darkness, into evil, and no power on Arda could prevent it.

By day he continued the charade, teaching those who came seeking enlightenment; surreptitiously assessing those he thought to use, to pull down into the depths of despair beside him. Friend and stranger alike could be turned, loyalties mattered not. To share power with Sauron was everything, and he would see that promise fulfilled at any cost.

And so it was that Saruman came to this day, slowly pacing ‘round – admiring his handiwork, his latest and most devious creation. Fair of face and form with gold flecked eyes, tall and strong, and evil to the very core of its being. Beautiful, yet like all evil, flawed. It could sustain itself only by taking the life of another, purloining the strength, the life force. And as beautiful as it was, its evil could still be divined by the truly innocent, the trees, and the animals; and by the smallest among us – the children. This thing – for there was little else to call it, had the ability to take from one all that was good with a mere touch of its hand – leaving behind only a withered, dry, shell of skin and hair – a soul stealer, and his target; should he find it, was the heir of Isildur.

And so it was, that in time, Saruman unleashed his evil creation upon Arda - and nothing and no one was safe.