Malphegor
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LOTR: TMCP Ch. 283
🕑 Added 2025-10-06 02:06:01 +0000 UTCListening to what Garrett said, Saruman replied, "Things are never of a single nature. No one can understand the entirety of something merely by its outward appearance. View something from the side, from above, from within, or without, different perspectives alone may reveal different aspects, let alone matters as mysterious and filled with vast wisdom as death and rebirth. People can never truly grasp what lies beyond their cognition. The eyes can only perceive the surface, the ears can only discern so much, and the nose can only detect what stimulates it. That is precisely why we must employ all manner of methods to uncover more attributes of things, those which our senses alone cannot reveal. Only in this way can one gain mastery over greater... power."
This time it was Garrett's turn to be somewhat surprised.
He hadn't expected that this old man, so deeply immersed in ambition and lust for power, could also possess such philosophical insights.
There was more to him than met the eye.
"Hmm... I believe I understand." Saruman muttered to himself.
Sometimes, in research, the origin of a thing was of great importance, for it concerned many fundamental matters.
"Well then, I'll take my leave. I still have work to attend to."
He rose as he spoke.
When he came to consult or listen, he was brimming with enthusiasm, but once he obtained the answers he sought, he would stand and depart without the slightest hesitation.
As for offering anything in return, one had best not expect him to ever broach that subject.
Just look at the Ents of Fangorn Forest. Those poor tree-herds had been exploited by him for thousands of years, teaching him countless ancient lore. Not only had he never repaid them, he even intended to fell their trees and burn them for fuel.
In truth, the Ents had it relatively better. Saruman wouldn't directly provoke them without necessity. At least when face-to-face, he was always scrupulously polite.
As for felling trees, he calculated carefully, knowing that the Ents loved to remain deep in the forest, sleeping. If no one woke them, they might well be harvested in their slumber without ever knowing.
Back to the point: only those with considerable power could make Saruman sit and converse peacefully.
Like Garrett.
Change the other party to someone weaker, and they might not even receive the opportunity to speak with Saruman as an equal. They would either have to obediently comply with his every demand, or have his persuasive voice poured into their ears, first enslaved, then compelled to obey.
If Garrett's power had not been sufficient to stand against Saruman... it was doubtful whether he would still possess a clear mind, or whether his domain would still truly be his own.
Peace always walked hand in hand with power.
"In such a hurry to leave?"
Garrett's words made Saruman pause.
He had little choice but to stop, for the one behind him did indeed possess the ability to compel him if he wished.
"The tea isn't even ready yet."
"No need."
Saruman refused without even turning his head.
"I have urgent matters to attend to, and won't linger here any longer."
Garrett poured a cup of tea and said, "There's no need to be so hasty. There are still some things I'd like to ask you, wise one."
Hearing this, Saruman finally turned back.
"Considering your attitude remains tolerable, speak. Ask what you will. I shall tell you all that I know."
He sat back down.
Garrett spoke plainly, "Not long ago, I heard Gandalf mention the Ents. Do you know the whereabouts of the Entwives?"
"Heh."
At the mention of that name, Saruman let out a scornful sound.
"Gandalf, that fellow whose head is filled with nothing but pipe-weed. What could he possibly know?"
Lifting his teacup, Garrett raised his eyes and glanced at Saruman.
Every year, quite a lot of pipe-weed was shipped to Isengard.
You'd better not be smoking it yourself.
"In the War of the Last Alliance, the land where the Entwives lived was burned to scorched earth. They are utterly gone. However, there are some old prophecies that say, when the world comes to its end and all dissolves, they will sprout again from the earth and meet once more."
"World's end," Garrett repeated the phrase.
That should refer to the Final Battle, when Morgoth would return. Legend spoke that it would be the closing chapter of all things, when the world would be shattered and remade.
But that was a matter for the distant future.
He shared his own intelligence.
"I've heard that among the Hobbits of the Shire, there are rumors, someone in the Northern Wastes claimed to have seen walking trees. And in the Old Forest, there are tree-folk as well."
"Rumors."
Saruman dismissed it without hesitation.
"There cannot be Ents in the Northern Wastes. The land there cannot sustain them."
"As for the Old Forest, it is full of malicious trees. You could say they are alive, with thought of a kind, but in both strength and wisdom they fall far short of the Ents. The Ents gave these creatures, neither Ents nor mere trees, a name. They call them Huorns."
"There are many Huorns in Fangorn Forest as well, but those are kept in check by the Ents. The ones in the Old Forest are different, without restraint, Huorns are nothing but brutish and dangerous."
"Some Hobbits tell stories of Huorns devouring people to frighten their children. But that is no mere tale. Many years ago, the Hobbits fought them fiercely indeed."
Garrett listened, then nodded, "Alright, it seems the Ents won't be finding their mates anytime soon."
"Why do you even concern yourself with such a thing?"
Saruman didn't understand.
"Nothing. I just like worrying about pointless matters. None of your concern."
"I've no time to bother with you."
Finishing the cup of tea Garrett had poured, Saruman stood at once.
"If there's nothing else, I'll take my leave."
"Go, go, acting as if your house has been burgled."
At this, Saruman turned back to glance at Garrett.
"No burglar... but indeed, a thief did once enter."
"What did you say?"
"Nothing. Farewell."
Saruman departed hastily.
Another peaceful year passed.
Through the unceasing efforts of the rangers of Sarn Ford and Tharbad, the dangers of the wild were once again pushed farther to the margins.
At the North Downs, opposite the South Downs and just north of Bree, a new ranger outpost was founded. From Sarn Ford, influence spread westward, reaching the Northern Wastes, the darker, more remote Barrow-downs, and the vast wilderness that surrounded them.
There once stood the royal cities of the Kingdom of Arnor, Annúminas in the Barrow-downs, and Fornost Erain near the North Downs.
Of course, now they were nothing but ruins.
Yet even though these once-great cities had been reduced to broken walls and fallen stones, with wild grass and dead trees filling their streets, they had never been places that could be casually intruded upon or occupied.
Even before the rangers of Sarn Ford arrived, wanderers roamed these wilds, drifting among the ruins of what had once been their homeland, carrying with them unspeakable emotions while struggling against all manner of dangers.
The resistance had never ceased.
