Chapter 16

'Who are you?' asked Aragorn, although he felt sure that he knew.

'Why do you ask such an obvious question?' asked the deep voice, slowly, softly, melodiously.

'Because I want to know.'

'Just what do you want to know?' the voice asked sweetly.

'Who you are and what you want.'

'I have already said that I want to speak to you, and as for who I am, I was certain that you knew. Or are your skills not as great as I have heard?' The strong hands released him.

Aragorn turned slowly as if his hesitation would somehow change the result, but his eyes soon swept the tall figure, and there was no good hoping then. 'Saruman,' he whispered.

'And so we meet, Aragorn,' said Saruman softly; his voice was low and mesmerizing.

Aragorn stepped back away from him. 'What do you want?'

'I only want what anyone of wisdom would want, for you to be reasonable,' he said soothingly, 'do you not wish to see your home again?'

'I will not listen to you, Saruman, for you have betrayed us,' said Aragorn firmly.

'And by whose words do you know this?' asked Saruman, 'Who is it that says I have betrayed you? It was not I who brought you here to abandon you.'

'The reason we were brought here was to escape from you,' said Aragorn, not certain whether he should fix him in the eye or keep his face away.

'Who is it that says I would harm you?' queried Saruman, his voice gentle and sad. 'I do not like to have people telling nasty rumors about me.' He reached out and placed his hand soothingly on the ranger's shoulder.

Aragorn could feel the voice draining him, the gentle, coaxing words seemed to make sense; he wanted to turn all his troubles over to the strong, wise wizard and have him solve them, to never have to rely on his own strength again.

'I just want what is best for us all,' said Saruman, 'to return you all safely to where you belong. It is not here, you know, this is not a good place for you, it is not where you want to be.'

Aragorn nodded his agreement. 'I hate it here,' he murmured.

'Of course you do, you were never meant to be here. You were never meant to have all these burdens. You want to go home, to see the lovely Arwen again. You miss her, you know. And she misses you.'

Aragorn leaned back against the wall. 'It seems so long since…'

'Since you have held her in your arms? Since you have kissed her gentle lips? She wants you, Aragorn, but she fears she will never see you again.' His voice was touched by sympathy. 'And she might not. What hope do you have of return?'

'We have none,' said Aragorn, 'we don't know how…'

'But I do,' said Saruman, 'only I haven't the power. I would need more strength to aid you, to return you to where you belong.' His dark eyes shimmered a little. 'I would need the ring.'

'It isn't mine to give,' whispered Aragorn, 'I am vowed to protect it.'

'But that is such a small inconvenience,' coaxed the wizard. 'It is such a little thing to give up, to gain so much…'

Aragorn looked into Saruman's dark eyes, so full of compassion and pity, so gentle, so kind, so…

He heard the clatter of metal behind him; Gimli had emerged from the cellar with their arms, and he stood in the doorway, the weapons scattered about his feet where he had dropped them in his surprise.

'Who is he,' he growled, 'and what does he want?'

'He is Saruman,' answered Aragorn, 'and he wants to help us.'

'What are you saying, Aragorn?' cried Gimli, 'Did you not here Gandalf speak against him? He has put you under his spell.' The dwarf lifted his axe from the floor and held it fast.

Saruman stiffened a little, but turned quietly to Gimli, 'Peace, Gimli son of Gloin, do you think that I wish you harm? I too have wandered here in this world, unasked for, and I too feel the pain that you feel. None of us are wanted here, and I too long to return. There seems to be no hope, no choice, but to use the ring—although it grieves me to do so. I too have heard the counsel of the wise, and I am accounted among them. I only ask for this…thing… for one reason, to return us to the land that we all love. We want to return home, you, Aragorn, and I, and what hope do we have but to unite? I fear that you may have heard lies spoken against me, but you must not let the words of a man who cared so little of you as to place you in an alien world and then abandon you affect your reason. Do you not understand of what I speak? You are lost without me, so yield.' The words had been spoken, strong and soft, like a beautiful song drifting through a fog, calling and beckoning to safety, calm and assuring, commanding and kind. Saruman looked deeply into Gimli's eyes as the dwarf swayed. 'Will you not hear reason?'

'He will not hear madness!' cried Legolas.

Aragorn turned; he had not heard Boromir and Legolas come down the stairs, he had a vague recollection of wanting to see them about something, but he could no longer remember what, it no longer seemed to matter. Boromir now stood firm, brandishing Anduril at Saruman; Legolas was a little behind him, his long white knife held at the ready.

'There is no madness in what I say,' Saruman cooed, 'and those who speak against me only show their own folly.'

'Boromir, Legolas, do not fear him,' Aragorn called to his friends, 'he wants to help us.'

'We ask no help of you, wizard!' snarled Boromir, advancing on him.

Saruman did not quail; he stood quite still and smiled a gentle smile at them. 'What is this?' he asked, 'do we have a thief in out midst? That, Boromir, is not your sword.'

Boromir gritted his teeth. 'I have need of it.'

'Aragorn, this man has stolen your sword.'

Aragorn looked again at Boromir, the sword he was holding was his; he had insisted on keeping it in his room so that he could reach it easily, not stashed away in the cellar like most of their arms; but he did not believe that Boromir had any intention of stealing it, he was not a thief. No, it was a greater sword than Boromir's, of more lineage, renowned and revered. It was a sword that any warrior would want, one that they might even kill for. What would keep Boromir from stealing it? He might. He would. He had.

Aragorn glared at Boromir. 'Give me back my sword, you thief!' he commanded.

'Aragorn, I have not stolen Anduril, but I have a great need for it, let me be for the time,' Boromir pleaded, not daring to take his eyes of Saruman.

'You forsaken, filthy bastard,' Aragorn sneered, 'you do not deserve to be cut open on Anduril's blade, let alone hold its handle!'

Boromir gritted his teeth and ignored him.

Time seemed to have come to a halt; Aragorn could see their every move, but although their faces were painted with desperation, their actions dragged.

'Aragorn,' said Legolas, taking a step towards him, but Boromir pushed him back, his left hand firmly on his hip, he pushed him towards the hobbits' door. Legolas seemed to understand. To Aragorn, his steps seemed painfully slow, he ducked down as he veered across to their room, sweeping away from Saruman at an arc. The wizard tried to stop Legolas, but Boromir stepped forward again, the point of Aragorn's sword dangerously close to his chest.

Saruman snarled something under his breath as the elf ducked behind the door, and then lifted his staff high. He cried aloud, his voice and the light from his staff seemed to Aragorn like frozen thunder and lightning. Boromir cried out, and the sword fell from his grasp, drifting to the floor. Saruman held his hand out to it and it floated up to him, he closed his fingers tightly about the hilt and turned to Boromir, wielding his staff and the sword high above him. Boromir shouted something that Aragorn could not hear, but Saruman paid him no heed. He smiled cruelly, uttering an inaudible chant. Boromir cried out again, falling to his knees, his face torn with pain. Saruman took a step towards him, and Aragorn tried to rush to his aid, all false grievances against the other man suddenly forgotten, but his body would not yield to him.

Saruman stepped towards Boromir who knelt before him, his body bent but his mind strong.

'You shall never have me, wizard,' he snarled, his eyes ablaze with fury.

Saruman smiled slightly. 'Won't I?'

Elbereth Gilthoniel! Aragorn cried through his mind, fighting to move his paralyzed body to no avail.

'Never,' Boromir declared.

'Well, in that case,' said Saruman smoothly, 'there really is no point in trying.'

Anduril's blade blazed violently in the lamplight, ready for a blow, ready for the drive, ready for blood, ready for death. All was still.