Atop his tower Saruman reposes. As always, a portion of his awareness must watch for the Gaze of Sauron. He sees it as a beam of light ever sweeping across the land, and he knows that there are only four others who can see this beam. Never mind that, they four are elsewhere, he thinks.
In an instant the Gaze aligns west, and Saruman jerks upright in a surge of panic. His hand moves, of its own accord, toward the Palantir. Why would we converse again so soon? Saruman thinks. But then, he, too, feels it. One of the Three has shown itself. What have the elves...?
From behind a fox leaps, one paw shining silver, and tears Saruman's fucking face off.
In an instant the Gaze aligns west, and Saruman jerks upright in a surge of panic. His hand moves, of its own accord, toward the Palantir. Why would we converse again so soon? Saruman thinks. But then, he, too, feels it. One of the Three has shown itself. What have the elves...?
From behind a fox leaps, one paw shining silver, and tears Saruman's fucking face off.
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