"Why such harsh words, my friend?"
Eric had barely spoken when the great doors swung open, and a figure in white robes stepped into the light.
"To think such an honored guest has come to visit, and no one bothered to tell me."
Saruman cast a sharp look at the servant by the door, his voice clipped with annoyance.
"You may leave. From now on, you need not stand guard here."
"Yes, my lord…" The servant bowed hurriedly and scurried away, grateful to escape.
"Saruman," Gandalf greeted with a slight bow, a gesture of courtesy if nothing else.
Eric inclined his head, granting respect but not warmth. Truth be told, he never liked Saruman much. Even without betrayal, the man's pride and envy would have made him insufferable. It was not treachery that shaped his arrogance. It was his arrogance that had paved the path to treachery.
"Well, well. The legend of the wilds, the founder of the Free City, the slayer of dragons—Eric Starfell himself graces my humble tower." Saruman's voice dripped with strained civility. "Do not fault the man at the gate. He simply lacks polish."
"I would not blame him," Eric replied with a pleasant smile. "After all, a man only repeats what he has been taught."
Saruman's face tightened.
"Ha ha, yes, yes," Gandalf interjected quickly, stepping between them like a nervous tavern keeper breaking up a bar fight. "Why not continue this indoors? The entrance is hardly a place for such a conversation." The source of thɪs content is 𝘯𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘭⚑𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮⚑𝕟𝕖𝕥
"I have no objection," Eric answered first.
"Then please, follow me," Saruman said. He studied Eric for a heartbeat before turning, sweeping back toward the stair that led higher into Orthanc as though nothing awkward had happened at all.
Behind him, Gandalf threw Eric a desperate series of warning glances, his eyes practically shouting, Do not start something here! Eric, of course, ignored him and strode on.
Gandalf sighed inwardly. If the two decided to come to blows, there was no force in Middle-earth—or in the blocky realms of other worlds—that could stop them.
"Valar help us," he muttered under his breath, "let them at least exchange words before fireballs."
The upper halls of Orthanc.
Saruman seated himself in the high-backed chair at the head of the chamber, lifting a cup of tea with deliberate poise. Gandalf and Eric sat together at a smaller table just below him, their own cups set before them.
The room was quiet, almost serene. For a fleeting moment, one might have mistaken it for a tea gathering instead of a council between rivals.
Eric sipped cautiously. No poison, no odd enchantments—just tea. He nodded, content, and let his eyes wander over the chamber.
The tower's black stone walls gave the room a dim, oppressive feel. Light seeped through stained glass windows in fractured hues, while tall lampstands with burning flames added their own flickering glow. To the left stretched a study cluttered with scrolls and strange objects. To the right stood a starkly empty room. In its center rose a stone pedestal, and on that pedestal lay something swathed in a thick, opaque cloth.
Eric did not need to guess twice. Beneath that cloth sat one of the seeing-stones, the palantíri.
The stones were powerful, capable of linking their bearers across vast distances, even revealing what other stones could see. They were Middle-earth's own magical surveillance devices.
Saruman had once used his to watch Gandalf like a hawk, day and night. Yet such artifacts came with peril. A weak will saw not what it sought, but whatever vision the stone forced upon it. Worse still, since one palantír now lay in Sauron's grasp, any attempt to use another risked drawing his gaze. One careless look, and you were suddenly in a very uncomfortable "video call" with the Dark Lord himself.
Which explained why this one was veiled, smothered like a covered eye. Better blind than spied upon.
Eric knew of the others. Four stones still moved in the world. One here. One in Gondor. One among the Elves of Lindon, which stared ever westward to the shores of Aman, little more than a scenic trinket. The fourth burned like a coal in Sauron's hand.
The stone of Gondor technically belonged to its kings, but no king sat the throne. In later days, the steward Denethor would dare its use, wrestling visions of Mordor from it until his spirit withered. Strong-willed though he was, the weight of that struggle drove him into madness and ruin.
Eric could not help but think that compared to Denethor, Saruman had folded quickly. One man faced Sauron head-on until he broke. The other had traded his loyalty after a few whispered conversations.
Not a flattering comparison.
"Now then," Saruman broke the silence, drawing Eric's attention back. "Tell me, what brings the most talked-of figure in Middle-earth to my tower? For what purpose have you come?"
"I have heard Orthanc holds a library unmatched in all the lands," Eric replied evenly. "I have come to seek knowledge within your archives."
"Ah… is that all?" Saruman relaxed slightly, as if expecting some dire demand. Borrowing books was hardly a threat.
"Very well," he said at last, his voice regaining its lofty ring. "I will allow it."
"But," Saruman continued, fingers tightening on his cup, "you must understand. These books did not fall into my lap from the sky. I have spent years gathering and preserving them. Some are of my own writing. To mortals, this wisdom is a treasure they would never reach in a lifetime."
His gaze lingered on Eric with pointed weight. "There is no gain without cost. Surely you understand that."
Eric gave a helpless shrug and reached into his satchel. With a swift flick, he tossed something golden across the room.
Saruman barely had time to raise his hand before the object thumped solidly against his midsection, making him grunt. He clutched it, glaring furiously.
"You dare throw heavy objects at me? What insult is this?"
"Why not look at what you're holding before you complain?" Eric suggested, his tone light.
Saruman scowled, glancing down. His eyes widened. Resting in his palm was no rock, but a gleaming golden apple.
The wizard froze, stunned into silence.