Chapter 320: The Sneaky One
"Truly, what is there in that small and frail race worth such attention?"
In Orthanc, Saruman pulled off a grey hood and declared his latest foray complete.
"Why does Gandalf keep running there?"
He sat, lost in thought.
Outwardly, the White Wizard almost always treated Gandalf with disdain, as if he were beneath notice.
Only he knew it was not contempt at all, but jealousy and caution.
Though he pretended not to care, in private, he worried at every word Gandalf spoke, trying to read some hidden meaning from it.
"A grey-cloaked wizard visits the Shire often."
When his informants gathered news in Bree, that was the rumor most heard.
It stirred Saruman.
Distrusting his underlings' eyes and wits, he even left the tower and walked the Shire himself for several days.
The result disappointed him.
There was nothing remarkable there. Nothing to watch.
Well, save that pipe-weed was as fine as ever.
Saruman lit a pipe and drew on it with pleasure until he was hazed in smoke.
Satisfied, he waved the fumes away.
Then he returned to his desk and research.
"Orcs."
"Small, ugly, weak, lazy, rash, and disloyal."
In most wars they won, they won by outnumbering the foe many times over. Their average quality was not high. A brave and careful human in his teens could put down two of them.
"Yet they have their uses."
War.
That was why they were made, and in war, they had a talent one would not expect.
Because of their instability, Orcs were easy to reshape.
Even at the level of breeding.
Saruman narrowed his eyes and relit his pipe.
The Orcs roaming Enedwaith, the ruins of Eregion, and Ened had been driven by Levi into his arms, trading loyalty for shelter.
Still too weak. The whole race was too weak to achieve anything.
"Uruks…"
He recalled the new stock Sauron had bred from Orc flesh.
Uruks were not all that strong either, on average, weaker than Men. Shorter, slighter.
But they grew fast. Born the same day as a human child, they were sprinting about a battlefield while the human's limbs were still thin.
That was a promise.
"If Sauron can breed them, so can I."
Saruman lifted his head.
"I will breed something stronger. Larger, stronger Uruk-hai. Let Sauron see who is mightier."
"When Mordor falls, all will lift their heads to me, whether Gandalf or that brute…"
"I will prove I am stronger than all of you."
"I need power… power…"
In 2990, at Saruman's command, Isengard secretly raised an underground breeding pit. It penned not only Orcs but also goblins seized in the Misty Mountains.
Saruman paced the dim vaults with a sharp black staff, driving Orcs through all manner of trials.
Neither Orc nor goblin could resist him.
Even without that brainwashing drone of his voice, his raw strength alone could pound a clutch of Orcs into silence.
As for what the Orcs thought…
People happy to gnaw their own in hunger had little to say. So long as they weren't the ones on the slab, they did not care.
Sometimes, a failed trial meant there was meat to eat.
Even so, a few fled in fear of being taken as stock.
Saruman only sneered and sent others to bring them back.
"If you love to flee, I will indulge you."
His robe grew stained with foul blood.
It did not take long for the wise White Wizard to find something amiss.
"Simple breeding and crosses are not enough to raise a mighty stock."
So he swung his staff and turned to sorcery, forcing the process on by magic.
Half in light and half in shadow, Saruman stood in the dark pit.
Another batch of Orcs went under the hand.
He turned away to the high tower, frowning.
The moment he twisted the flesh with spells, an old truth returned to him.
Orc nature was chaos.
Even a new, stronger breed would not serve simply because he made them. If his power faltered, they would stamp him underfoot.
Everything came back to the same point.
Power could not be neglected.
Old leaves and spines of books were piled on his table.
They were hidden writings left by the Noldor of Hollin, Eregion's dead land, and many lines were valuable.
Especially those on the forging of the Rings of Power.
No one knew how he had gotten them.
…
"But to speak of it."
At Roadside Keep, a year on, Gandalf visited Levi again, idly chatting over small things.
"This time in the Shire, I went to see Old Took's line. Good news: the Tooks have a newborn. By the count, he should be Old Took's great-great-grandson. Let me think, what was his name…"
"Oh, right, Peregrin Took, or 'Pippin.' Yes, that is easier on the tongue. His parents call him that as well."
"That is very good indeed."
Levi smiled, then asked, almost knowingly, "And what is your feeling about this newborn?"
At once, Gandalf's mouth twisted.
"I do not like to speak ill of a baby, but his hands are not honest. When I leaned in, he yanked my beard hard. I cannot fathom how one so newly born has that much strength…"
"I dare say he will be a rascal."
The old wizard shook his head.
Levi's mouth would not stop curving.
"Yes… a rascal. Quite a rascal."
"Forgive him, Gandalf. Do not be cross with a little one who knows nothing."
"I am not cross."
Gandalf sipped tea, settled, and said,
"To my mind, mischief is a good sign. I may not have told you—when Bilbo was small, he smacked my backside with a wooden sword, and I never minded it."
"Of course." Levi nodded convincingly.
Never mind, yet you have remembered it for nearly a hundred years.
"From that day I thought that small hobbit very special. He left a deep impression."
"And so, when the quest for Erebor began, I thought of him at once and chose him. It seems my eye and instinct were not wrong."
"That must be admitted," Levi said.
They did not talk long, and Gandalf did not linger.
After sending him off, Levi stretched and picked up a fresh report.
One look sharpened him.
Rangers had sighted a band of Orcs between the north of Eregion and the south of Enedwaith.
Given the City of Water's sway and the strength of watch around it, that was nearly at the gates.
Yet…
"They were dealt with by a band of Enedwaith men?"
Last, he recalled, the people of Enedwaith were allied to Saruman. There had even been word that their chieftain had sworn to him recently.
Such kindness, taking it on themselves to cull Orcs?
That was rare indeed.