Another Man's Trash by Uvatha the Horseman

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Chapter 10 - Desperate Measures

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Chapter 10 - Desperate Measures

Saruman stumbled back to his own camp, winded from his escape. Wormtongue came into camp and added the brush he'd just collected to their already well-stocked woodpile. Urzahil offered no apology for abandoning Saruman in the Council chamber when the earthquake struck. He just stared into the fire, looking morose.

Saruman looked back the way he'd come. Down at the Elvish camp, a breeze lifted the silk pennants that displayed Lord Enron's device. Between the dozen or so tents, Elves fetched water, gathered brush, and tended cooking fires. No one was saddling horses, strapping on swords, or showing any other signs of pursuit. Saruman relaxed.

The Elves had stopped going into the Tower, and the bridge to the main gates was empty. Saruman didn't blame them. Apparently they shared his view that the Tower had become unsafe.

Saruman touched the notebook in his sleeve. From the few pages he'd had time to skim, the notebook contained everything he needed to make a Ring of his own. He had no reason to go into the Tower again. The situation with the Elves was deteriorating. They should leave now.

"Worm, let's get out of here. How long will it take to tack up the horses and pack our bedrolls and saddlebags?"

"We're leaving the tent behind?" Worm looked stricken.

"I'm sorry Worm. It's a beautiful tent, but we'll have to travel light if we're going to make it down the hairpin turns before dark."

Worm nodded and shuffled off. Saruman watched him go, then ducked into the comfortable shade beneath their tent. He looked around to be sure Urzahil wasn't watching, then pulled the notebook from his sleeve.

He sat cross-legged on the blanket, then brushed the dirt from the leather cover, savoring the moment before he opened it. This time, he would read the Ring-making instructions slowly, with a full appreciation of what they meant.

He let the notebook fall open. It held extensive notes on troop strength and logistics. A few pages later, there was a long discussion about how lack of rainfall was driving up the price of barley.

He flipped through until he reached the final page. Nothing. He must have missed it. He started over the first page and leafed through, without success. There were a few more lines of Valarin here and there, but no drawing of trebuchets, and no instructions for making a Great Ring.

The gorge rose in his throat. When the shock struck and the ceiling started to come down, he must have grabbed the wrong notebook. The other one was still in the Council chamber, lying on the table.

He smacked his forehead. Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why hadn't he grabbed both notebooks at once? For that matter, why hadn't he had the presence of mind to go to the bookcase and grab an armload of them? Cursing, he flung the notebook onto the gray blanket of his bedroll. Worm appeared in the opening of the tent.

Saruman pointed to the offending object. "Burn it! I never want to see it again!"

"What?" Worm looked puzzled.

"Throw it out. Get rid of it. Give it away. It does not bring me joy."

Worm held out a hand, but Saruman couldn't bring himself to throw out anything in Sauron's handwriting, however useless it was. Worm scurried out of the tent, Saruman stood there for long minutes, breathing hard. When he calmed down, he shoved the leather-bound disappointment in his saddlebags.

The notebook with the Ring instructions was still inside the Tower, conspicuously visible on the end of the table where he'd left it. Worse, in his panicked flight, he'd neglected to close the door. If anyone else happened to walk by, they might see it and take it. That must not happen.

He burst from the tent and grabbed Urzahil by the arm. "We're going back in. Right now."

"Can it wait until tomorrow? I'm tired, and I'd like to sit." Urzahil had pulled off his boots, revealing his blistered feet.

Saruman bit back an angry response, then said in his most persuasive voice, "Put your boots on. We're going back to the Council chamber."

Urzahil nodded, his eyes glassy, and got to his feet. Saruman pulled Worm aside. "Keep the horses saddled. We're leaving as soon as I get back."

The volcano sent yellow fountains of lava high in the air, which rained down on its slopes. Near-constant tremors sent showers of pebbles sliding down the hill.

"I've never seen it this bad before, even when Orodruin was erupting this hard," said Urzahil.

They skirted the edge of the Elvish camp, ignoring the stares. As they approached the bridge, one of the Elves called after them, "What's your hurry? It's not like you're going to find the Ring in there." The others laughed, and Saruman's face burned.

A deep rumble shook the earth and a chunk of cliff fell away. Stone blocks fell from the wall and struck the ground and exploded into fragments. Stone dust rose from the shards.

Urzahil froze. "I'm not going in."

"I don't have time for this. Let's go," said Saruman.

Urzahil shook his head, then turned and ran. Either the persuasion spell stopped working, or the little weasel finally grew a backbone.

Saruman watched him weave through the Elvish camp. Two Elvish warriors stepped in front of him, blocking his path. He tried to go around them but they seized him by the arms. Saruman shook his head in annoyance, then turned his back and entered through the main gates.

Inside the Tower, the air was still and stifling hot. The heat hadn't done anything good for the dead bodies. The smell of decay made his eyes water. The structure made noises he'd never heard before, creaks and groans which warned it was no longer healthy.

As far as he could tell, he was alone in here. There were no drums and no march of boots, no sign that any Orcs still occupied this space. The Elves were gone, too. If he ran into trouble, there was no one in here to help him.

He felt along the wall for a torch when it became too dark to see. The bracket was empty. He'd removed it himself the day before and dropped it on the ground outside. He continued to search, going deeper into the murk without feeling an iron staple in the stone.

All around him, the structure groaned. The need to hurry flustered him. It was taking far too long to find a torch. He spoke the words of a fire spell and ignited the torches on both sides of the hallway. They flared up and threw yellow light on the walls. He pulled the nearest one from its bracket.

The Council chamber would be easy to locate. Pass the bronze doors outside the Dark Throne, find the grand staircase and climb four flights, and it would be near the stairs with its door conspicuously open.

The bronze doors stood open. He passed them without a glance. The staircase lay just ahead.

A tremor grew into a major quake. There was an enormous crash, just ahead, followed by the sound of timbers splintering. A wall of dust rolled down the hall. Saruman put his arm over his face and tried to breathe through the fabric, but the dust left him choking.

He reached what should have been the grand staircase and found a heap of timbers and wood splinters where it should have been. Wreckage filled most of the stairwell and spilled into the corridor.

Saruman needed the grand staircase to reach the Council chamber. Now he'd have to find a different route. He tried to recall how Urzahil had taken to Sauron's rooms. Up to the sixth level by a servant's stair and down to the fourth by another, with many corridors in between.

Six flights later, Saruman left the servant's stair and moved west toward Sauron's rooms. From there, he could find the two flights down to the Council chamber. The Tower groaned and he picked up his pace.

He turned a corner. Sauron's rooms were due west, against the far wall. Bright sunlight filled the doorway. Saruman stared. The room ended in a ragged edge of flagstones a short distance from the door. A spectacular view of the volcano and the late afternoon sky filled the hole where the rooms had been.

Saruman's jaw dropped. He backed away, then sprinted down the hall to put as much distance as possible between himself and the collapsing wall.

He took the next staircase he found, went down two stories, then headed for his best guess at the Council chamber's location. It's door stood wide open, just the he'd left it. His heart pounded as he approached, and not just because he'd run the whole way. The notebook was still on the table. The tremors were coming closer together, and getting larger. Stone dust sifted from the seams of the ceiling.

His fingers closed on its leather spine, and he hugged it to his chest. There was no time to savor his victory. He took the same convoluted route to leave as he'd taken to get in with only a few false turns along the way. He burst through the main gates into the sunlight. The torch slopped from his fingers and dropped in the sand. The whole adventure had taken under ten minutes.