For this uninvited guest who had entered without warning, Saruman's mouth, unusually, moved faster than his brain. Almost instantly, he snapped back.
Garrett spread his hands and replied, "The front door was wide open, so I just walked in. Your condition does not seem well, Saruman."
He stood up and walked toward the White Wizard.
Saruman instinctively grew alert.
Frowning, he stared at Garrett and said, "It appears you have just concluded a long and arduous campaign."
"How did you know?"
"I heard reports. And even if no one had told me, I could still smell the scent of battle and travel upon you. That reek of iron is quite unbearable. I would advise you to take a proper bath."
"Well, I have not bathed in quite some time," Garrett admitted.
He could not help but lift his arm and take a sniff.
Fortunately, there was only the smell of blood, nothing else unpleasant. That was easy enough to fix. One good bucket of water and a thorough wash, and he would be clean again.
But that could wait. There were more pressing matters at hand.
"Tell me, Saruman, what happened? Do not try to hide anything from me. If you refuse to speak, I will find the answer myself. And I suspect you would not wish to see me take matters into my own hands."
Silence fell within the tower.
Saruman remained quiet for a long time before finally lowering his head and letting out a deep sigh.
Moments later, the two of them climbed to the very top of the tower, to stand before the seeing-stone.
The thick black cloth that had once covered it was already gone. And the moment Garrett saw the palantír, he understood everything.
The old wizard had not been able to resist after all. He had used the stone. He probably had not yet fallen completely under Sauron's sway, but it looked as though he stood upon the edge, still struggling.
Had Garrett not followed close behind Gandalf to arrive here, Saruman would likely have been lost already.
"Drink this. You know what it does."
Garrett offered him a bucket of milk.
Saruman hesitated for a moment, then drank it all in one long draught.
"How do you feel?"
"Nothing different," Saruman said quietly, setting the bucket down.
Garrett frowned slightly.
It seemed that matters of the heart could not be changed by mere physical remedies. They were not some temporary affliction to dispel with a potion.
"You warn others constantly, and yet you could not restrain yourself. Honestly, Saruman..."
Shaking his head, he walked toward the seeing-stone.
"What are you doing?" Saruman reached out to stop him. "Do you intend to follow in my footsteps?"
"I am not you," Garrett replied calmly, placing one hand upon the Orthanc stone.
At that moment, his will entered the clash within.
Boom!
Two fierce wills, locked in battle, instinctively turned their assault toward the sudden intruder.
The first was an incredibly strong presence.
It seemed to realize something as it charged forward, but by then it was too late. It could not pull back.
It struck head-on, but it was like a lump of iron sinking into a vast lake, swallowed whole.
His consciousness rippled slightly. He smiled, unbothered by the assault.
Then he turned his focus to the other will, deep, unfathomable, and dark.
Sauron.
When old enemies meet, hatred flares.
In an instant, every light in the tower went out.
Whispers of evil filled his ears. Endless waves of darkness surged toward Garrett's mind, battering his will. But it was like waves crashing against a mountain. No matter how the storm raged, the peak did not move.
People grow and change.
After witnessing history march on, after sending off one old friend after another, Garrett was no longer the playful, carefree youth he once had been.
Those who had loved and cared for him left their blessings behind as they walked into their own darkness, leaving dawn and light in their place for him to carry forward.
Grief and helplessness, carried on cold winds, had struck his heart again and again, leaving marks, tempering it, until it grew strong and unyielding.
Perhaps that was what his old friends had left him in the end. Their final gift.
Sauron could never have imagined that in less than a century, a person could change so profoundly.
Such transformation was a trait usually found only in the short-lived races, yet this Man...
The darkness retreated reluctantly, dispersing into nothingness.
Garrett let out a weary sigh.
After a brief pause to steady himself, he began to sense the wondrous nature of the seeing-stone.
Streams of visions and information flowed into his mind.
Now he could use the palantír freely. Neither Sauron nor anyone else could hinder Garrett from observing any place he wished.
Though truth be told, even without the seeing-stone, he could still accomplish much the same. It would simply be somewhat more troublesome.
After watching for a while, Garrett withdrew his will from the stone.
This thing still carried its risks.
Anyone who used a palantír could, inevitably, be spied upon by other users. The closer they were in proximity or power, the more they could see of one another.
Take Denethor, for example. He always looked so composed when using his palantír, peering wherever he wished, even spying into Mordor itself day after day.
But in truth, Sauron could see into Gondor just as easily. The two of them were, quite literally, facing each other directly through their stones every single day.
"This palantír should be kept by me. It is too dangerous," Garrett informed Saruman.
Saruman said nothing, which was as good as consent.
"...Be careful."
As Garrett was about to leave, Saruman finally forced out a reluctant warning.
"Do not worry. Like I said before, I am not you."
Garrett waved a hand dismissively and walked out of the tower.
When he left, the lights within Orthanc came back on.
Saruman closed his eyes and leaned back in his chair, emotions tangled within him.
The robes he wore no longer shimmered with iridescent colors, but had dimmed slightly, turning grayish.
---
At Wayfort, atop the highest floor of a nameless tower, Garrett crafted a new stone pedestal and placed the Orthanc palantír upon it. Then he surrounded it with a ring of bedrock, an unbreakable barrier that only he himself could remove.
Now, the stone was truly safe.
At this moment, apart from Garrett, no one, not even if the world itself were to end, could approach the palantír.
Of course, if the world really were destroyed, that would be another matter altogether.
Thus, the Orthanc palantír, now kept within the nameless tower, remained untouched for a very long time.
Until, one sunny afternoon, Garrett suddenly thought of it again.
He lifted the cloth covering it and took a glance.
He saw Gondor.
He saw Mordor.
He saw the depths of that pitch-black land.
"Come... come..."
A faint whisper echoed by his ear, enticing him, urging him to gaze deeper into Mordor.
Unusually, the Eye of Sauron offered no resistance to Garrett's intrusion. In fact, it almost seemed to welcome him.
It deliberately opened the view of the Dark Tower, letting him and Sauron look upon each other from afar.
From within the shadowed depths, a seductive whisper sounded again: "There is no need for us to be enemies. I can help you, help you gain what you have always desired but never known how to obtain. I can make you stronger, more complete..."
"Not interested."
Garrett waved his hand and withdrew his gaze from Mordor.
His tone was calm, his face expressionless.
But had someone been nearby, someone observant, they might have noticed his breathing had changed, ever so slightly, no longer perfectly steady.
Lies seldom tempt those with strong wills. Rather, truth is what truly moves the heart.
And what Sauron said was, for the most part, true.
Garrett's instincts, that deep, wordless intuition, told him that the Dark Lord really could accomplish all those things.
But the price would be another matter entirely.
"That is enough."
Extinguishing the light of the palantír, he shook his head, covered it again with the heavy cloth, left the small chamber built for it at the top of the tower, and locked the door tightly behind him.