Title: Dangerous Business Author: Milly of Isengard Author's Email: isengard_unveiled@yahoo.com Pairings: Saruman/Merry Saruman/Pippin Rating: R for: S & M/ some angst/comfort/bondage- sexual IMPLIED Summary: charming tale of two hobbits looking for trouble… they find it! Dangerous Business On a warm Spring day in April, young Peregrine Took and his good friend Merry Brandybuck were busily engaged in their favorite pastime: nothing at all. Work was not the favorite forte of either of them, especially Peregrine- or Pippin as he was familiarly called. Both young hobbits were much more in love with the idea of relaxing in the warm sunshine, enjoying the withdrawal of the Wintertime. For this rather unsavory character flaw of theirs, they were sometimes subjected to the chastening of the great resident Wizard, Gandalf The Grey, who had no use for such laziness. He would forever chide them about their lack of ambition or drive, and had recently made the observation to them that he sincerely believed they were headed for no good end in life. They had, of course, laughed at what he had said, and then found the mirth left them entirely when Gandalf scowled at them with such fury that they both fled, Pippin needless to say tripping over his own considerably large feet. They had ran into the Forest then, and not dared to look back until they felt they were safely away from the alarming presence of their accuser. Gandalf could have certainly reached them with ease if he had so desired, but he had turned away and headed back to his own cottage with a resigned sigh. “Little fools”, he thought to himself wearily; “They have no comprehension whatsoever of the deadly danger that lies all around them!” Indeed, they did not, and often poked fun at powerful personages, running in where strong wizards trod with care. Pippin and Merry both engaged with perverse delight in joking about Gandalf and his old friend ( now Nemesis ) Saruman the White. Dangerous business, and bound to attract unwelcome attention eventually. Not that the great Saruman himself would be concerned in the slightest with the goings on of two small hobbits, and Gandalf would certainly never have harmed them. But the danger was that, in having such natures as they did, they naturally were prone to seeking out not only mischief but danger as well. Mere mocking words would dissipate in the clear air, at least eventually, but Pippin and Merry’s desire for trouble making was destined to lead them to great peril. And that was what Gandalf knew, he could sense it as surely as the thunderclap after the lightning bolt, but he could not discern a way to keep them from the danger. And so it happened this day, with the full flush of Springtime draping the land with lush foliage, and the flowers fairly bursting from the meadows, that the two young comrades-in-mischief set out to the Dark Forest, with minds set, as always, on finding something, anything to while away the hours ( as long as it did not involve labor ); Pippin led the way, humming a very out of tune melody, poking at everything in his path with a stick, and Merry followed behind, thinking to himself that if Pippin could not find something for them to do soon, he certainly had a few ideas of his own. He had the more sophisticated mind of the two, and he was very much the young man approaching hobbit prime. “Hey, Pippin, slow down, will ya..” he called to Pippin, and sat down on old stump, waiting. Pippin, who had run far ahead as usual, came back and sat down at Merry’s feet. “You’re lazy!” he informed Merry, who merely glared at him and said nothing. “This is really boring, isn’t it?” Pippin said, and he sounded bored, abysmally so. Merry stared off into the deeper woods, where they usually stopped their explorations. “Yes.” He answered finally, and sighed. “I am bored out of my head, if you must know, Pippin.” And Pippin, grinning now, had just reached out a hand towards Merry, who was suddenly taking an interest in things again, when it happened: For a moment the whole world swam away from them, and the woods were enveloped in blackness; the trees groaned under some strange strain they were suffering, and the hobbits felt the ground sway in sickening waves under them. “Now what?” Merry yelled to no one in particular, and grabbed Pippin in great alarm. Pippin, for his part, was very much relieved to not have been alone when this- thing – happened. And then they saw before them, as it were, a vision in white, towering and with unnatural light shining all about it. They stared, mesmerized, and Merry gripped Pippin’s arm painfully, unintentionally. The great apparition was taking shape, and form, and they could now see it was a being in white robes, and rainbow colored rivulets of light were streaming from the blindingly white cloak. The shape coalesced into the Wizard of the Wood, Saruman, looming above them like some giant Oak tree over two small saplings. His eyes were piercing and fierce, powerful with malevolence and spite. He looked down on them and spoke in resonating voice “Hobbits of The Shire, you have trespassed upon my domain! For that crime you must be made accountable!” Pippin felt as if he was in a very bad nightmare, and in fact, he was sure of it. This could not, must not really be happening! The ancient Wizard was suddenly upon them, moving too quickly to even perceive, and Pippin and Merry found themselves in his grasp, writhing helplessly. “My slaves have just increased, ‘tho you will not be worth too much. Perhaps you would be better suited as meat for the Uruk Hai! Their hunger is never abated!” Saruman snarled at them, and there was a great dizziness that came over them, and the next thing they knew was the pain of the cords cutting into their small wrists, and a smell of Orcs, overwhelming in its foulness and filth. They had been taken in the blink of an eye to Isengard, the great Iron Fortress, once the Keep of The Light, but now the Tower of Death and Fear, and all life fled from the area as if from a plague. Saruman stood in the doorway, and at his side two Orcs waited to hear and carry out their master’s order. “Take them to the lowest hold,” he told the Orcs in that rich powerful voice, “Bind them and hoist them. You may not long suffer your hunger, my friends!” He regarded the two shivering hobbits with a steely and pitiless look, and then added “But first I will make use of them to keep the Fires of Isengard stoked!” He glided majestically from the room, long robes sweeping behind him, and Pippin suddenly found himself, even in his extremity of fear, of wondering just what it was really like under that Ivory mantle… “What a ridiculous thing to think of!” He told himself, but made a mental note to tell Merry about it when- if- they lived through it. Which, he realized with dawning alarm, they probably would not. The Orcs lifted them to their feet roughly, and one of them informed the hobbits “The Master has given you a great honor- you are gonna get to see what real pain is, at the hand of Saruman himself!” The Orc said this with an undisguised excitement, and spoke with an awe so great it conveyed actual jealousy of the hobbit’s situation. Merry and Pippin failed to grasp the reverence the Orcs felt for the impending experience, and looked at each other with sick horror at their fate. Down the spiral staircase they were trundled, and none too gently. Merry supposed that the unpleasantness of the journey to the lower chambers would pale when compared with what lay ahead, and when they were dumped on the cold stone floor finally, he turned to Pippin and told him: “Listen, we gotta figure a way out of here! And quick! They’re really gonna kill us!” Pippin looked back at him miserably, and Merry realized he had tears in his eyes. “Pippin..” He tried to soothe, tried to think of something to say, but the clear reality of what was about to happen made that very difficult indeed. He felt so bad for Pippin; he had always tried to look after him, in his own way, but with great fondness. Merry wondered if Pippin knew how much he cared for him. Many wonderful days of roaming in the Shire and the Woods beyond together, and now they were going to die together, most likely in some terrible magically induced agony. Merry felt tears in his own eyes, now, and was about to tell Pippin what he felt in his heart, when the chance for such revelation was suddenly gone, as The White Wizard had appeared before them. “Oh no..” Pippin sobbed quietly, and Merry wanted to tell him to brace up, get hold of himself, so they would die not as cowards. But he was very afraid, himself, and there seemed to be nothing to do but await their deaths. “Foolish creatures…” he growled at them, “I never knew what Gandalf ever saw in the company of hobbits! You are useless and feeble, and your days are numbered few!” He motioned to the Orc by his side, and Merry and Pippin were now bound to long straps from the ceiling, and then hoisted up; Pippin yelped as the leather strap tore into his wrists, and Merry was now more angry than frightened, although in some considerable pain himself. “Don’t do that to him!” he yelled furiously, and Saruman struck him with the back of his hand, hard. Then again. Merry felt blood welling in his mouth, and it all seemed to take form in his mind now, growing in clarity like a malignant threat : Saruman was going to kill them, but he was going to torture them first. Torture! “Oh by all the Gods, someone help us!” Merry intoned silently, and then Saruman’s brutal hand struck Pippin full across the face, and he wailed unhappily, looking like a small child caught in some nightmare, too young and too immature to cope with the horror, yet unable to escape it. A small stream of blood ran from his lips, and he was nearly whimpering now. Saruman looked at them with great, almost unspeakable contempt. “Did you know, young halflings, that Gandalf the Grey has been hobbled by his time spent with your kind? It has made him weak in the mind and ineffectual in battle, and it will ease our coming Victory! For that, I suppose, I owe you a debt of gratitude. I will repay your destruction of the once great Gandalf by not making you endure too long. Your deaths are very close now, so take heart!” He smiled a truly hideous smile at them, and the mockery of friendliness added to the dreamlike quality of it all. Pippin, for his part, felt on the verge of passing out, so great was his terror. Saruman’s fake smile faded almost immediately, and he raised the great metallic staff over Merry now, and muttered strange and menacing-sounding words; black spells rose in the air from the staff, and Merry could swear he could actually see them, somehow, taking shape as they issued from the crystal at the end of the staff. A final incantation, and then it hit him, all at once, with a great shock: something like a ripping apart inside him, and then the most agonizing of pains came to terrible life, and he felt as if he was being torn apart from within. Pippin watched in utter dismay, and then the great staff was raised over his head now. He watched it with a kind of awe, dreading what was to come but entranced by Saruman’s presence so near him. He could feel Saruman’s great power, so overwhelming and so terrible, yet it was somehow exciting in a dark way. His heart was beating like a hammer on an anvil, and he waited to feel the awful spell come down on him. When it arrived, it was neither pain nor fear that he felt but very like a huge sensation…something indescribable and strange beyond all words. Something gigantic was inside him. It was an immense feeling…like being opened up and entered into; yet there was no pain, only…well, could it be pleasure he was feeling? The staff waved over him again, and as Merry watched in confused exhaustion, again came down and this time it was unmistakable, the rush of it ripped through him again but much stronger this time. Pippin could not help but groan with the excitement and ecstasy of it, and Merry slowly understood now, and was about to say something, and then thought better of it; if Pippin could be spared torture, by any means possible, then that was a very good thing. He himself was not so lucky; he was nearly ill from the severity of the painful experience of a few moments ago. Saruman was cold as ever, betraying no feeling, but merely watching them both carefully. Wordlessly he turned from them and from out of nowhere brandished a large whip; it shone oddly in the dim room, seeming to crackle with electricity. Saruman raised it slightly and then with frightening swiftness brought it down across Merry’s back; he stifled a scream and bit his lip to make no outburst, even as the whip bit into him again a second time. Then it turned its unloving attention to Pippin and lashed him viciously, and Pippin made no effort to control his cries at that point, yelling very loudly and flailing uselessly with his unbound feet. Saruman muttered something to the Orcs and they obeyed, stripping off the hobbits shirts, which were now stained with traces of blood. Pippin thought he was most likely going to lose his mind very soon, and he looked with wild terrified eyes at Merry, who returned his look with a weak roll of the eyes. The whip, however, was far from done with them, and the Iron Hand of Saruman brought it down again on Pippin’s bare back, making the young hobbit gasp. Then it was Merry’s turn again, and Saruman was all the more savage with him, giving him twice the blows of Pippin. Merry would not cry out, even so, but forced himself to only groan as softly as could. “Cut this one down” Saruman shouted to the Orcs, gesturing at Merry. They complied, and Merry hit the hard ground painfully; he felt as if his soul had somehow been ravished and violated, as if Saruman had torn into him with some bitter and unknown weapon, taking everything away, and then discarding him. Pippin was still hung up by his arms, and trying to not pass out ( although he was not sure how he really felt about maintaining consciousness at this point ). “This one will go to the table of the Orcs tonight..” Saruman decreed, waving the staff towards Merry, “And this one shall stay here, to serve me as I desire.” Pippin felt a sense of relief for himself, which was overshadowed by the terrible fate which now awaited Merry. He felt heartbroken, and all the more so because he was utterly helpless. He could no nothing to save Merry, he realized that, but how could he live without him? He would live, he told himself grimly, because he had no choice. Saruman had decided what was to become of each of them. “Merry!” Pippin cried out to him, and Merry willed himself to smile through the pain, and answered back” “Don’t worry, Pippin. Its gonna be alright!” “How?” Pippin yelled back to him, and now Merry really did smile. The last memory he would have of Pippin, he supposed, would be the familiar foolishness, so endearing and yet so costly at times. Then, as a thunderbolt from out of nowhere, the walls shook with some unseen shock, and the room lit up, and the darkness dissipated, and in the terrible room Gandalf stood, like a hero in a fairy story. “Saruman, you will release these halflings!” Saruman was not impressed by the stern visage, and raised the deadly staff towards Gandalf’s direction. “I would think carefully, my old friend..” said Gandalf with great authority in his voice; “We may match our abilities here and now if you wish, but your Keep will lay in ruin before we are done. I will make sure of that! Release them to me, and we will do no more this day!” Saruman hesitated, and seemed to be unsure if the destruction of Isengard was a fair price for these two vile creatures he had captured; yes, one was quite unusual, and even receptive, but this was too high a price. He had no doubt he would vanquish his former friend, but there would be too much damage. The time was not yet. Without waiting to see the decision, Gandalf struck off the bounds of the two weak but astonished hobbits, and before Saruman could strike out at them, they were flown back to more familiar lands, safe at last, and against all odds, in Gandalf’s protective hold. As he sat them down carefully on the steps of Hall of Rivendell, Gandalf was about to berate them, when he saw for the first time how badly they had been beaten, and what they had gone through. He decided this was enough for now, nothing more need be said. But Pippin bore a strange look, troubled, and far away, as if there was something in his heart that had never been there before. What had Saruman done to him? Gandalf wondered to himself. Well, perhaps soon I shall ask him…or perhaps not, he thought; Pippin looked up at Gandalf now, and though the tears he managed a small smile. Gandalf returned it, and patted him on the head with genuine affection. Then he turned to Merry and patted his shoulder kindly, and said “Are you alright? Have you been badly hurt? In…in any way?” Merry too managed a smile, and told him, “No, Mister Gandalf, we will live. Thanks to you we will, anyways! How can we thank you?” And Pippin chimed in as well “Yes, yes, Gandalf, how can we thank you! Anything you want…or need…anything! You let me…uh, I mean us, know!” Gandalf looked at him, surprised. He had a feeling he knew exactly what he meant. Pippin was certainly growing up. He said nothing else, but bade the two goodbye, promising to see them again in the evening, to be sure they were alright…and to mend their injuries.. But that’s a tale for another time. The End.