Malphegor
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LOTR: TMCP Ch. 125
🕑 Added 2025-07-25 00:19:29 +0000 UTC"How can something this perfect exist in the world..."
Saruman couldn't sit still. He stood up and held the golden apple up to the window, examining it carefully in the sunlight. His eyes couldn't bear to leave it for even a moment.
"What is this?"
After his initial amazement, he forced down the excitement in his heart. He sat back down in his chair and asked in a calm tone, finally tearing his gaze away from the golden apple.
"A golden apple, made from a large amount of gold. Eating it can heal nearly all injuries, and it also grants some resistance to physical attacks," Garrett replied. "It's extremely valuable, each one used is one less in the world. I hope you'll use it wisely."
Gandalf glanced at Garrett but said nothing.
"Good, very good," Saruman tucked the golden apple into his robes, speaking in a pleased tone. "You have truly brought me a remarkable gift. I can guarantee that, during your stay, all the knowledge within this tower is open to you."
"If there's anything you don't understand, you may come to the upper levels of the tower to find me. If I'm available, I'll answer your questions."
[Isengard Reputation +30]
[Current Reputation: 30 (Guest)]
So stingy.
Anyone else's 30 reputation points would make them "Friendly," but with him, it's still just "Guest."
Well, it does fit his personality.
"Then I won't stand on ceremony."
Just when the three present thought everything was settled, Garrett suddenly said, "In that room over there, if I'm not mistaken, is that a palantír?"
"You're quite the scholar," Saruman praised him with a meaningful look. "Yes, that is indeed one of the palantíri, the Orthanc-stone. One of this tower's purposes is to safeguard it."
"Can I take a look at it?"
"Absolutely not!"
Two voices spoke at once.
In this matter, Saruman and Gandalf were surprisingly in agreement.
"For safety reasons, I advise you not to set your sights on that stone," Saruman warned.
"Garrett, that object must not be used lightly. One of its users is Sauron, you will be noticed by him," Gandalf added with concern.
"That's exactly what I want."
"If he can see me, then I can see him."
Garrett stood up. "I'm very curious what he's been up to lately."
Too reckless.
Gandalf shook his head.
"Are you worried I'll be swayed by him?" Garrett genuinely felt the two of them were overreacting somewhat.
"Did you forget? Back in Dol Guldur when I confronted Sauron face to face, I hit him hard."
"He couldn't do anything to me then. You think from such a distance, he can suddenly affect me now?"
In the future, Sauron would be able to harm people through the palantír largely because his power would have recovered significantly over time. Right now, he was still weakened, this was the perfect chance to provoke him.
"You're generous, but fatally reckless," Saruman's black staff suddenly came into view, followed closely by his white robes.
Gandalf also stood up.
"Why not just let it go, Garrett? There's no need."
This had nothing to do with politics or personal gain, both of them were genuinely concerned for Garrett's safety.
"Aren't the two of you here as well? Hasn't everyone present faced Sauron directly before?"
Clearly, yes.
Garrett stood at the doorway with hands on his hips and said, "How about this, if I show even the slightest sign of being influenced by Sauron, I'll let you knock me down with your staffs yourselves. I won't complain in the least."
"This..." Gandalf frowned. Was it really that necessary to look at the stone?
"Very well," Unexpectedly, Saruman agreed readily. He gripped his staff tightly, it looked quite solid and had a sharp tip, clearly eager for action. Truly, his ambitions were no secret to anyone.
"You... sigh." Gandalf shook his head and muttered something about "unreasonable," but then also picked up his staff.
The three of them entered the room on the right.
Garrett stood in front of the palantír, which was covered by a cloth.
Gandalf and Saruman stood behind him, one on the left and one on the right, gripping their staffs tightly and keeping a close watch on him.
"I feel a chill on my back."
"Don't worry. I will be watching you the entire time," Saruman said gently.
"So will I," Gandalf echoed on the other side.
"That's exactly why I feel the chill..."
Oh well... Their staffs couldn't possibly be as hard as Azog's steel mace.
Or could they?
Shaking his head, Garrett reached out and lifted the heavy black cloth in front of him.
The palantír revealed itself beneath. Its surface was smooth and polished, its core dark as a starless night, like a perfectly cut black crystal.
The faint glimmers reflecting off its surface shimmered and shifted with the viewing angle, as if it were drops of liquid starlight falling in an endless void.
As deep as the cosmos, as restless as a stormy night.
Even without accounting for its magical properties, this was a masterwork artifact of extraordinary artistic value.
Heslowly extended his hand. As he approached, the palantír seemed to activate, it suddenly lit up and took the initiative to connect with his mind.
It felt as though he were controlling a device directly with his thoughts.
"I can see it..."
Images began to flicker within the palantír.
Gandalf and Saruman exchanged glances, then stepped forward to observe as well.
The first image showed a vast expanse of scorched, lifeless land.
Not a single living plant or animal in sight, only the occasional patch of withered thorns or a few poisonous flowers feeding on corruption.
"Mordor," Gandalf named the place.
"Most of the terrain there is like this, dead, desolate, and filled with despair."
As he spoke, the vision shifted to a dull, darkened stretch of green land, where countless half-clothed humans were laboring in the fields.
They were gaunt, spiritless, and exhausted. Nearby, orcs wielded whips, lashing at them.
"This is the fertile land near the Sea of Núrnen in Mordor's deep interior. Those are Men captured and enslaved by Sauron," Saruman explained.
"Massive farmlands are tilled here by slaves. Much of Mordor's food supply comes from this place. It's hard to imagine how many people they've taken..."
"Those people don't deserve such treatment," Garrett said, memorizing the location. "They must be freed."
The image changed again.
A large army poured out from a gap in the Ash Mountains north of Mordor, heading east.
This army was no ordinary force.
Just within his field of view, there were dozens of Olog-hai clad in full steel armor.
These were among the few creatures in Middle-earth that could directly threaten him, far tougher and more dangerous than even iron golems.
Judging by the enormous clubs in their hands, whose diameters alone were taller than a grown man, their destructive power was immense.
They were marching toward... Rhûn, home of the Easterlings.
"The Easterlings. They've been allied with Sauron since ancient days. At their peak, they even helped bring down the Kingdom of Rhovanion, invaded Rohan, and seriously threatened Gondor," Gandalf noted.
"One of the Nazgûl, Khamûl the Easterling, was of their people."
"But why would they march on Rhûn?" Garrett asked, puzzled.
"Did something happen there?"
Gandalf shook his head, also uncertain.
Only Saruman furrowed his brows, as if he'd thought of something.
Just as Garrett was about to continue manipulating the palantír to seek more information, the room suddenly darkened, the images within the stone vanished.
A massive, flame-wreathed eye emerged within the sphere, its fiery gaze reflecting directly into his pupils.
That gaze seemed to transcend space itself, locking straight onto him and sending whispers into his mind.
[Corruption Level: 0.001%]
A progress bar, long dormant and seemingly decorative, suddenly ticked upward.
"Sauron."
All three men in the room tensed, especially Saruman, who gripped his staff with both hands and glanced repeatedly between the palantír and Garrett, as if calculating his next move.
Gandalf raised his staff defensively.
Narya, the Ring of Fire on his hand, glowed brightly, pushing back some of the darkness.
Garrett, however, greeted the dark presence with a calm and courteous phrase:
"We meet again, failure."
