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Lotr: Playing Minecraft in Middle-earth - 346
🕑 Added 2025-12-01 01:10:32 +0000 UTCChapter 346: Puzzled
A little later.
Sam sat dutifully off to one side, while Frodo leaned close to Gandalf, whispering.
“Sam has always loved tales about Elves,” Frodo murmured. “He and Pippin and Merry have all sneaked a look at Uncle Bilbo’s books.”
“Forgive him, Gandalf. He did not mean any harm.”
Gandalf nodded. He did trust the lad.
Sam had grown up under his eye. What wickedness could there be in that honest, round Hobbit?
Both of them glanced back.
Sam seized the chance.
“Mr Frodo, are you leaving?” he blurted.
His eyes were wet.
“We’ve all had that feeling for some time,” he went on. “Not just me—Pippin, Merry, Fredegar too. We all thought that one day you’d slip away without a word…”
Frodo could only give him a rueful smile.
“Good Sam…”
“Now you need not part at all,” Gandalf said.
Unlike Frodo’s strange, easy calm, learned from who knew where, Gandalf had been taut as a bow the whole time.
He fixed Sam with a steady look.
“Samwise Gamgee,” he said. “Now that you know, I cannot simply let you go.”
“You must see, this touches on something very great.”
So it was that, at first light, three figures—one tall, two small—set off from Hobbiton and turned east.
“You must both be careful,” Gandalf said. “The Enemy has many ears and eyes: birds in the air, beasts on the ground…”
“Hide it well, Frodo. Do not put it on. If you do, it will call out, and dark things will hear.”
“This Ring always longs to go back to its master. It hungers to be found.”
He clapped Frodo on the shoulder, then swung into the saddle, meaning to ride ahead.
“Wait, Gandalf. Where are you going?” Frodo called after him.
“I must warn our other allies. This touches all of us. We must take counsel and tread with care.”
“When I have done what I must, I will come to you. Until I return, do not wander from the path.”
“And if need truly presses, you may look for help from the rangers. Even if you cannot tell who they are, it does not matter. Shout Levi’s name if you must. The rangers will find you.”
“As for their manner… that is another matter. But you will be safe enough.”
When he had said all he could, Gandalf dug in his heels and was gone in a rush.
Frodo watched until the wizard was nearly a blur on the road.
“That horse is faster than any pony in the Shire,” he said.
“I agree,” Sam nodded.
A moment later, he added, “I only hope he does not put his back out.”
“Likely he has done that more than once,” Frodo said.
The two Hobbits walked on, gossiping about the old wizard as they went.
Gandalf, meanwhile, rode south, along the stone-paved road that had been rebuilt, and on to Isengard.
Saruman chanced to be at leisure. The two of them walked together among the fruit trees.
Gandalf told him everything he knew.
“You are certain?” Saruman asked, brows knit.
“As certain as can be,” Gandalf said. “Levi and I discovered it together. There is no room for doubt.”
“Then the matter is grave indeed,” Saruman said at once.
“Where is the Ring now? Tell me it is not in Levi’s hands.”
“Of course not. It is with a Hobbit, and well guarded.”
“Good.”
Saruman let out a slow breath.
“If Levi and the One Ring ever came together, I dare not think what he might do.”
Gandalf shook his head in Levi’s defence.
“We must give him some trust. He and I have both stood before the One. He showed no sign of coveting it.”
“Hmph. Who can say what storm of desire may lurk under that calm surface?” Saruman said with disdain.
Gandalf shot him a sidelong look, wondering whether the White Wizard was not, in truth, talking about himself.
“And you, Gandalf,” Saruman went on.
“Me?”
“That Ring lay under your nose for decades, and you never saw it. I am bound to ask whether pipe-weed has not turned your wits to smoke.”
Gandalf only twisted his mouth.
“Still, we are in time,” Saruman allowed. “We still have enough force to stand against Sauron. Levi’s armies are…”
“Ah, Levi. Is that all you can do, lean on him?” Saruman cut in with another sneer.
“Is there nothing in your head but borrowing other people’s strength?”
“I…”
Gandalf began to protest, but Saruman stayed him with a lift of his hand.
“My friend, there is something you must understand,” he said.
“Although the Lord of the North has kept the Enemy’s claws from crossing that Wall these many years, although Sauron has seemed quiet and his presence faint…”
“He has not been idle. From what I have seen, he has quietly regained most of his might. He is not the Shadow he was a few decades ago.”
“Even without the One Ring, and without a body, his spirit is near its greatest height,” Saruman said as they climbed the tower together and came at last to the highest chamber.
“His gaze can pierce most of Middle-earth. That great Eye, wreathed in flame. The armies he gathers… even if the Free Cities and Gondor and Rohan all stood shoulder to shoulder, they would scarcely hold.”
“That I do not grant,” Gandalf said at once.
“No, Gandalf. You know what I am saying. You have found the old evils in the Northern Waste as well, have you not?”
“Do not think that because I sit in my tower, I am blind. I know. And I have not only watched. I have been getting ready.”
“Getting ready?” Gandalf caught at the word.
“Yes. Ready.”
Saruman rose and opened the door, leading him out onto the high balcony.
“I am not like you, Gandalf. You can only lean on others. I will use my own strength, my own work, to crush Sauron and show him who is truly strong.”
“Saruman, you…” Gandalf began.
A roar rose from below, like the rolling of a storm.
A mass of armed men poured out from the ring of Isengard and formed under the tower.
“Men of Enedwaith,” Gandalf said, recognising them. His frown deepened.
“You have allied with the wild men of the Westfold? They are no easy friends, and not given to hating Sauron nearly enough.”
“They have a history. When he last came, they bent the knee,” he added.
“That need not trouble you,” Saruman said. “Now they serve me. They have sworn to it. Blood-oaths.”
“Very well. I will take you at your word,” Gandalf said.
“But even so, the men of Enedwaith are not a great power. Even if they emptied their halls, all together they could not match half Rohan’s riders.”
“Perhaps you are right,” Saruman said.
“But they are not my only card.”
“It is time you saw what I have been doing these last decades.”
“Come forth, my soldiers!”
His voice rolled like thunder across the stones and down into the deeps.
Gandalf leaned out over the parapet, eyes widening, disbelief plain on his face.
From the woods, from tunnels in the ground, tall, broad-shouldered Orcs marched out in ranks, forming up in clean lines beneath the tower.
There were at least ten thousand.
On each brow, a white hand was painted.
“Saruman! Saruman!” they chanted, raising their weapons, crying the White Wizard’s name as if he were a god.
“Saruman!”
Gandalf shouted it too, but his voice was filled with anger and hurt.
“How can you do this?” he cried.
“How can you twist living things so, against their nature?”
