As they sat there—Éomer staring at the hobbits in amazement for he told Rowan he had never seen one before—Merry caught sight of them. He jumped to his feet and, placing his hand upon his breast, he bowed.

"Welcome, my lords, to Isengard!" he said with a dramatic, almost drunken gesture to the ruined stronghold. "We are the doorwardens: Meriadoc is my name and my companion—who, alas, is overcome with weariness—" he nudged Pippin awake with a foot, who grunted but got up to see why he was kicked "—is Peregrin. Our orders to watch the gate come from Treebeard, who has taken over management of Isengard."

"You rascals!" Gimli cried. "You woolly footed, wool-patted truants! A fine hunt you have led Legolas, Aragorn, Rowan, and me! Two hundred leagues, through fen and forest, battle and death, to rescue you! And here we find you feasting and... and smoking! Where did you come by the weed, you villains?"

Aragorn was softly chuckling, Rowan was smiling, and she bet the elf was too.

Pippin swung his legs off the rock, facing them. "Here you find us sitting on a field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts."

"Well-earned?" Gimli repeated, then scoffed. "I cannot believe that!"

All the riders laughed.

"These must be the lost ones of your company, Gandalf," King Théoden guessed; the wizard nodded.

Both hobbits' eyes looked through the group, searching. Just like Nárind, Rowan knew who they searched for.

"Boromir fell at Helm's Deep," she said.

Sorrow filled their eyes; the best friends looked at each other.

"Come now, I am wasting time," Gandalf said, breaking the somber atmosphere. "I must speak with Saruman, even as useless as it may be. A wild beast cornered is not safe to approach. And Saruman has powers you could not guess. Beware his voice."

Aragorn told Pippin Hasufel would bear him and Rowan took Merry.

The hobbits jumped down, making a somewhat large splash. Not as large as one a full-grown man would've, but one like a child would've made. The water came up to their bellies.

Merry waded toward her as Pippin went to Aragorn. Bracing for the strain and pain, Rowan leaned down her left hand to haul him up. Éomer grabbed her right elbow to help steady her.

Pulling up Merry was agonizing. The stitches stretched again, and after situating the hobbit behind her, she felt of her waist to see if she had pulled one open. Her clothes didn't feel wet and nothing tickled her skin like blood was trickling through. She breathed hard, though, from the pain.

"Rowan?" Éomer asked. His hand was still on her arm.

She shook her head. "I'm alright."

"Are you hurt, Rowan?" Merry asked behind her.

The pain was receding. Rowan nodded as she grabbed Nárind's reins. "At Helm's Deep."

He must've put in what she did not say and knew what Boromir meant to her from her clipped answer. Merry lightly squeezed the left side of her waist for a hug, since she leaned more heavily on it than the other.

"I'm sorry."

***

As they rode toward the black tower, Merry and Pippin solved the riddles that had plagued Rowan, Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli since tracking them into Fangorn Forest. The Uruk-hai began chopping the trees for a fire, angering a nearby Huorn. It lashed out, sending roots to drag Uruks under and impaling others. The hobbits crawled over to a discarded sword, cut their binds, and ran away from the forest. The Huorn came out of the woods, caught them, and took them back into Fangorn. It had them for a while until Treebeard appeared, fought and killed the bad Ent, and carried them away.

Standing as still as statues and resembling nothing more than just normal trees, Ents were positioned around the tower of Orthanc. Some were skinnier than others; some sporting long, mossy beards that reached down their torsos; some having beards made of twigs and bushes. Varying heights, weights, color of bark, and placement of foliage. The creatures were remarkable.

One walked toward them as they approached the black stairs. Dark brown bark, moss, and twigs making up his chest-length beard, fungus and other vegetation growing on his long but sturdy branches of arms and trunks of legs, and space on his shoulder and the stump on his back for hobbits to sit on. Legolas leaned eagerly out of his saddle; Gimli held him back to keep the elf mounted.

Treebeard stopped in front of them. "Gandalf, I am glad you've come." Like in the movies, the Ent had a deep, earth-rumbling voice and a slow way of talking. "There is a wizard to manage here, locked in his tower."

"And here I am to do so. Even in defeat, Saruman is dangerous."

"Then let's just have his head and be done with it," Gimli said.

Gandalf looked at him. "No. We need him alive. We need him to talk." His gray eyes slid over to Rowan. "Unless you know what he will say, and we have no need of speech..."

She hesitated. She knew what he was supposed to say, but it might be different since the story has changed in some aspects. No matter what, though, if Saruman survived, he would wreak havoc, either by controlling the Shire like what's in The Return of the King book, or something else. He was too greedy and power hungry—he'd seek revenge in one way or another.

"I know one version of what he will say." Rowan held his gaze for a while, hoping to get across her meaning.

Gandalf nodded—he understood.

"Do you now, One-Who-Does-Not-Belong?" a deep, alluring, powerful voice said from above. Everyone looked up to the single tall figure in white holding a black staff standing at the top of Orthanc, where Gandalf had been held prisoner within the four sharp spires. Even though his robes appeared white at first, they were a dimmer white than what Gandalf wore, and they seemed to constantly change color. His long white hair and white beard streaked with some gray blew in the high winds up there. Christopher Lee. Saruman.

"Tell us, Rowan, lady of Gondor. What am I to say?"

That cajoling voice was more powerful coming from the source than through King Théoden's mouth when he was being possessed. And in just two harmless questions, he had shredded her spirit. The wizard knew she wasn't from here, and knew she lies about 'seeing the future'. He was plain-out mocking and belittling her.

"She has not come to answer to you, Saruman," Éomer said beside her. "You are an old liar with honey on your forked tongue!"

Saruman turned his eyes on the Third Marshal of the Riddermark. "Meddle not in matters which you do not understand, Éomer, Éomund's son. A liar, you brand me as, but what do you say of her? Has she foretold what will befall here? Does what she say always come to pass? Or does she offer multiple outcomes, and the truth comes about with pieces of her visions?"

Stunned silence fell among them. Éomer turned toward her along with other eyes—the king's, Gamling's, Pippin's, and others'—wondering the same thing: Why? Why is it when she predicts the future it is not entirely true? Doubt set in.

"You know why she predicts as she does, Saruman," Gandalf began. "All those gifted with foresight struggle to see a clear picture of the future. Multiple outcomes offer options if things change. Stop warping words to discredit others."

Eyes slid off her, believing Gandalf. Rowan breathed a quiet sigh of relief.

Saruman cackled. "How swift you are to defend those who have no standing. Since she is of no importance, I turn to one who is."

He looked at the king. "You have fought many wars and slain many men, Théoden King, and have made peace. Can we not take counsel as we once did, my old friend? Can we not have peace, you and I?"

King Théoden kept his head down for a while. "We shall have peace..." he mumbled. He looked up, his voice loud and strong, and a fire burned in his eyes. "We shall have peace when you answer for the burning of the Westfold, and the children who lie dead there. We shall have peace when the lives of the soldiers whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead at the gates of the Hornburg are avenged. When you hang from a gibbet at your window for the sport of your own crows... we will have peace."

The wizard visibly shook with rage. "Gibbets and crows! Dotard! What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek, and their brats roll on the floor among dogs? Too long have they escaped the gibbet themselves. But the noose comes, slow in the drawing, tight and hard in the end." He waved them off. "Go back to your huts!"

"Now we see the snake for what he is," Aragorn muttered.

Saruman's eyes turned toward the other wizard. "And what do you want, Gandalf Greyhame? Let me guess: the keys of Orthanc, or perhaps the keys to Barad-dûr itself? Along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the Five Wizards?"

Gandalf said, "Your treachery has already cost many lives. Thousands more now are at risk. You could save them, Saruman; you were deep in the Enemy's council."

"So, you have come here for information. I have some for you." Out of his robes he pulled out a black sphere. Even from far below, Rowan could see flames writhing deep in the center. The Palantír.

"Something in Middle-earth has the great Eye's attention. Something I wonder if your Seer has seen. Even now he presses his advantage." Saruman stored the black globe back into his robes. "His attack will come soon. You are all going to die."

She shifted. That sounded close to what's said in the movie, but it was worded differently. Could the battle be at somewhere other than Minas Tirith?

His voice took on a softer, but still cruel, tone. "But you know this, don't you, Gandalf? You do not hesitate to sacrifice those closest—those you profess to love. Tell me, what words of comfort did you give the Halfling before you sent him to his doom? The path you have sent him on can only lead to death."

Gimli growled. "I've heard enough." Quieter, he told Legolas, "Shoot him—straight through his heart."

"No," Gandalf said quickly.

Rowan looked at the elf and mouthed, When his staff breaks, kill him.

He nodded.

"Come down, Saruman, and your life will be spared," Gandalf said.

Saruman scoffed. "Save your pity and your mercy. I have no use for it!"

He pointed the end of his black staff toward them and a fireball shot out. The missile raced to them. The men only got to yell before it struck.

The fire receded to circle harmlessly around them all because of Gandalf's magic. It died down completely within seconds. Éomer had thrown out an arm in front of Rowan like it could've shielded her. Seeing the danger gone, he pulled his arm back without meeting her questioning gaze.

In a firm, emotionless voice, Gandalf spoke. "Saruman, your staff is broken."

As he said it, there were loud cracks and the black staff in Saruman's hand exploded. The pieces drifted down.

Followed immediately by the twang of a bow and a whistle.

"Saru—No!" Gandalf cried.

The arrow hit its mark where Gimli had instructed, right in his heart. Saruman jolted with a gasp of breath, then he tumbled backward. Too close to the edge, though, his feet slipped off. Falling over and over as he dropped multiple stories. Rowan closed her eyes before he landed on a spiked watermill in a grotesque ripping of flesh and a thump.

It was deathly silent following Saruman's death. At the metallic groan, she opened her eyes. The wheel began to turn, taking the bleeding white form into the cloudy water. A round, black object fell out of his sleeve before he went under.

Gandalf whipped around, preparing to tear into Legolas for firing the killing shot.

Rowan stopped him. "I told Legolas to kill him." The wizard now turned to her, glaring.

She didn't cower from his angry gaze. "It had to be done. Saruman would've inflicted more heartache, even powerless. And he wouldn't have told us the truth regarding Sauron's intentions."

The heat in Gandalf's eyes lessened; he gave her a small nod.

"That you know of, correct?" Éomer said.

"Perhaps." She looked at him. "It depends on the following days."

He nodded, but worry reflected in his eyes.

"The filth of Saruman is washing away," Treebeard said. "Trees will come back to live here, old trees, wild trees."

As the Ent spoke, Pippin hopped off Hasufel and waded toward the miniature sun glowing under the water near the mill.

"Pippin?" Aragorn called.

The hobbit bent into the water and brought the Palantír to the surface. The polished globe looked like almost translucent black marble. Power radiated from it.

"Bless my bark!" Treebeard exclaimed.

Gandalf urged Shadowfax toward Pippin. "I'll take that, my lad."

The hobbit handed it to him. Careful not to touch it, Gandalf wrapped the Palantír in cloth and hid it within his robes. With the stone out of his hands, a fierce need shined in Pippin's eyes as he stalked toward Aragorn, watching Gandalf speak with Treebeard.

Based on his reaction, Rowan didn't think it would be long before he stole the Seeing Stone from the wizard and looked into it. And, hopefully, send them to fight at Minas Tirith—she knew what would happen there.