What Gandalf Didn't Tell

Disclaimer: The 'Lord of the Rings' characters contained don't belong to me sadly. They still remain the property of Tolkien. They have been used without permission. All else is my own creation.

Rating: R AU most definitely. Language. Don't forget the M/M aspect. OC. Don't say you weren't warned.

Author: Vasalysa, with many undying thanks to Geek.


What Gandalf Didn't Tell

Chapter Three


His steps were slow as he mounted the steps of Orthanc once more. The memory of what had occurred the last time were still fresh in his mind, unfortunately. Saruman's voice and words had not affected him as he had feared and he could only hope that whatever magic he had been bound with had perished when he had died on the uttermost top of Moria. Shattering Saruman's staff had given him a pleasant feeling, not unlike ridding a house of pests.

Gandalf paused on the top step, half afraid to open the door and find out that Nohemtay was dead, slain for allowing him to escape.

“Come, Gandalf, the dragon's away. Let's check out the lair.” Gimli's rough voice sounded from only few steps behind.

“Very well, Master Dwarf. Are you all determined to enter?” Gandalf half-turned to face the small group behind him.

Aragorn stood, arms folded, a determined look on his face. Beside him, Legolas carried his bow as he moved gracefully up the steps. The aged King Theoden remained on his white horse, Snowmane, patting the neck as he stared up at the huge tower. The two hobbits sat perched on another horse, munching on apples.

“There may be enemies within. You should not face them alone,” growled Gimli, axe in hand.

“There may also be friends. Or allies.”

Aragorn's gaze narrowed and Gandalf knew the man guessed that something more had happened here than he had admitted to.

“My men are tired and injured, Master Gandalf.” Theoden dragged his eyes to Gandalf's. “They need to rest, for few of us slept through last night's events, and we have ridden long and hard from Helm's Deep. Rest will not be possible here.” His arm swept out to the side to take in the vast lake that now rested inside of Isengard's walls. “I will take them to the slight rise we passed a while ago. If that is of good counsel to you?”

“It is indeed, King Theoden. If I do not join you this night, be assured that I will be there come sunrise and we shall proceed forward together.” Gandalf smiled gently, aware that Theoden still did not feel comfortable in his presence. “Merry, Pippen, why don't you help some of the good king's men round up those supplies you were telling us about, hm? Some of it you may keep for yourselves. That which only a few of us know and appreciate.” He raised his eyebrows briefly.

“What? Oh, yes.” Merry gathered up the reins.

“Merry!” Pippen started to wrestle Merry for the reins. “I want to stay!”

“No. As Gandalf has asked, there are supplies to be gathered. Some of them of interest only to us. Now, let's go do what the man says.” Merry managed to turn the horse around and head back toward the main gate at an amble. A detail of men rode with them on Theoden's orders as the king himself sighed and watched the two hobbits, shaking his head slightly.

Gandalf could hear Pippen's voice clearly. “What could possibly be of interest only to us?”

“Pip! What do you think?”

He could easily imagine Merry elbowing the other hard from the yelp that Pippen sounded. From Aragorn's slight smile and bare nod, he knew the king-to-be understood what special supplies were to be gathered. Now if he could only get rid of the others so easily.

Theoden rode with his guard for the gate.

The opening of the door brought Gandalf's head around fast. Relief flooded him as he saw the man limping forward with the aid of a woman. He fought to conceal his embarrassment on recognizing the woman as the one who had entertained herself with him. A bruise covered the left half of her face, but she supported the man fully, left arm wrapped around his waist. Gandalf felt his eyes drawn back to look on Nohemtay, to catalog the apparent injuries. Blood soaked through the bandages on his left upper arm and his right leg moved stiffly. More blood had dried leaving an odd trail down from his scalp to his jaw from a long nasty cut along the forehead.

At the top of the steps, Nohemtay stopped, giving Gandalf a long lingering look from head to foot. An eyebrow raised despite the wince and he drawled, “Well, you certainly look better than the last time I saw you.”

“And you, my friend, look much the worse for wear. How- Was it- Did he-” Gandalf snapped his mouth shut, not wanting to give more information away than necessary.

“No, it was not related to that. At least not directly. When the Tree-Shepherds broke in, I sent my people to safety. I was outside a bit too long.”

“Your people?” Gimli quickly came to stand by Gandalf. “Just who are you? What are you to this place? Why should we believe anything you say?”

“I am the rightful steward of this place, Master Dwarf. I know some of what has happened beyond our borders, but,” Nohemtay shrugged his shoulders, “of late, I have been occupied with ensuring the survival of those I am responsible for. Due to circumstances, Gandalf and I have never been formally introduced, though we spent a great deal of time together.”

Nohemtay coughed, wincing as he raised his injured arm to try and cover it, and, from the worried look in the woman's brown eyes, Gandalf knew that Nohemtay was more seriously injured than he would admit.

The woman said, “You must sit down. Now.”

Forcing himself straight once again, Nohemtay managed a weak smile. “Yes, dear. It seems I have my orders. Will you come inside where we can be more comfortable? Food and drink are being arranged.”

Now Gandalf felt even more uncomfortable. The woman was Nohemtay's wife? “Yes.”

Legolas bounded up the steps. “Gimli and I will go first.”

Nohemtay's eyebrow climbed once more. “My, my, you do travel in interesting circles, my friend. An elf, too. I've only met a few in my travels. Of course, you may scout out the terrain, but at the moment, it is only women and children within. The majority of my people are outside the walls of Isengard.”

After giving Nohemtay a suspicious look, both Gimli and Legolas disappeared through the door.

“Lead on,” Gandalf said, finishing the climb to the top of the steps.

“What of your other friend? He is welcome, thrice over, especially if he is who I think he is.” Nohemtay meet the stern gaze of Aragorn squarely. “Come in, my lord. I will endeavor to- Ouch! woman, that hurts!”

The woman hauled Nohemtay around and off-balance, forcing him to head for the door. “Men,” she muttered. “Talk until they fall down from blood loss and die. Lords, help us.”

“Gandalf.”

The quiet word stopped Gandalf and he turned to face Aragorn.

“I know there is much you left out about your time here as a prisoner. To be at the mercy of the likes of Saruman... well, I can imagine some of what you went through, but I can see your agitation, your fear, your worry. Do you wish us to leave rather than risk being sent away as errand boys?”

Gandalf sighed softly. “I would rather not hide anything, but what happened...” He swallowed hard. “Saruman used my own magic against me, bound me in ways I could not believe. What I suffered at his hands, you cannot imagine.” He gestured to the door. “I will trust to your own sense of propriety as to whether to stay or not. For now, come in and let us find out answers together.”

“Very well.” Aragorn quickly strode up and looked Gandalf in the eyes. “Do you trust him?”

“I have already trusted him with my life and my death.”

Aragorn's eyes widened and he nodded curtly. “Then let us go in.”

They met Legolas coming down the hall. “It is as he said. Women and children, young children mostly. Gimli is with him and the woman in a room nearby.”

A room Gandalf had never seen turned out to be their destination. It looked to have been an abandoned study given over to a dining room without taking out the previous furniture. Eyes closed, Nohemtay sat slumped in a chair while the woman fussed over him, yelling for hot, clean water and removing the bandage on the arm.

“Nessa, hurry up with that leaf. Baran, where's my stitching set? I'll not put this off any longer. Your father is in need.” The woman threw the bandage aside, revealing a gash that ran nearly the length of Nohemtay's upper arm. Blood ran freely to trickle off the slack fingers.

Aragorn caught Gandalf's worried look and stepped up near the woman. “I have some skill in healing. May I help?”

“You can stitch?”

“Yes. Neatly.”

“Good. As soon as my son gets here with my kit, get started. I'll get the tea and poultice ready.”

A young woman of around twelve entered followed immediately by a younger boy of about ten. Gandalf immediately saw a resemblance to Nohemtay as they set their burdens down on the table. “Hot water is coming, Mother. Firiel is bringing the water.”

Aragorn quickly opened the kit and, after satisfying himself as to the contents, started threading a small curved needle.

“Out of the way, out of the way. This is bloody hot and heavy.” An older woman entered, carrying a large pot. She set it on the table with a heavy thump and took a deep breath as she reached into a pocket on her apron. “Here, some clean rags and new bandages. I'll have the tea pot in a moment.”

“Thanks, Firiel. I couldn't manage without you.”

“Just take care of him.” Firiel patted the woman on the shoulder and left.

From the small basket that the girl had set down, the woman took several leaves, placing them in a small mortar and pestle. As she ground the leaves, the air sweetened and everyone, including Aragorn bent over his work, breathed deeply of the wholesome scent released.

“You know of kingsfoil, my lady?” Aragorn asked, never looking up from the quick, but neat stitches he was putting in.

Her tone was just shy of curt as she answered, “Of course I do. We've had to use it often enough around here, though we never told Him about it. And my poor fool there, he can heal others, but not himself, more's the pity.” She spared Nohemtay a quick glance, missing the startled look Aragorn shot Gandalf. “We've kept the old lore, the names, the history. We haven't forgotten, not like others. How much further to go?” She was adding water to the leaves and stirring with the pointed end of the pestle.

“A couple of inches. A moment longer if you will.”

Wiping her the back of her hand across her forehead, the woman looked at Gandalf. “You look better. Put some weight on finally?”

Gandalf nodded once.

“Good. You understand why we couldn't do more?” When Gandalf nodded again, she smiled quickly. “As my husband said, we had to pick our battles carefully. It would have done none of us any good if we had died trying to do more than what we could.”

“He was right. Yet, I would not be here now if he had not risked more.”

“The Master,” her lips twisted with distaste, “was ready to order his death, but other things came up and his skills were needed more. Don't let his self-deprecating talk fool you.” She dipped several rags into the water and wrung them out. “He nearly died because he dared to help you. I haven't forgotten it... or other things.”

“I assure you, neither have I... nor will I.”

Firiel returned with a tea pot and a mug. “I've already got some leaves in there. Should be ready to drink. Just work on the poultice.” She bustled out of the room once more.

“Finished.” Aragorn took the rags the woman handed him and cleaned the wound. “He needs more than just a poultice.”

“He's the only hands-on healer we've got since his father died.” She smeared the sweet-smelling leaves on a pad of bandages.

“I'm in position to do this. Let me.” Aragorn wiped his hands clean on another rag and took the bandage. He positioned it over the wound and set it carefully in place. As he accepted the length of bandage to wrap around the poulticed injury, he asked, “So, he can heal with just a touch?”

“Yes. Some gift passed down from his many times removed grandfather. Only shows up in the eldest male of the line. Baran is still too young for it to show up. Bless his heart, he tried, though. Just to make his father feel better.” She took a wet rag and cleaned the jagged cut on Nohemtay's head. “His sense of responsibility kept him here. As the tower staff, we could not disappear without Saruman noticing. Everyone else is out and safe. Including our two youngest.”

“Do you know who I am, my lady?” Aragorn asked quietly.

“No, and I don't bloody care. You could be the king for all I care. He's the only lord I want or care about.”

“My lady, I will be the king. And I can help him heal with your permission.”

Her brown eyes clashed with Aragorn's green as she glared at him, hands on hips. “What the blazes are you waiting for then? Get busy!”

Aragorn waited a few seconds more before bending his head to indicate compliance. “Yes, my lady.”

“Now, Finny, stop bossing the man around.” Nohemtay's voice sounded weak. “Or he might go elsewhere.”

“Bran, you fool. I told you to stay off your feet.” The woman grabbed Nohemtay's hand and knelt at his side. “And if you think I'd let him get away without helping you, you're a bigger fool than some others I could name.”

Smiling Nohemtay turned his head toward her without opening his eyes. “I'll be all right, Finny. It'll take more than a scum-sucking orc to keep me down and out.”

Gandalf found himself leaning forward, his breath caught in his throat.

Nohemtay's eyes opened and he looked right at Gandalf. “He'll lay hands on no others. I gutted, cut, and stuffed certain things in his mouth and then I watched him bleed to death. With great satisfaction. His head then lost his body.”

A great weight lifted from Gandalf's soul and he sighed heavily with relief.

“Keep still, my lord.” Aragorn pressed his hand firmly against Nohemtay's shoulder. “As you should know, this is not easy work.”

“I know it indeed. Forgive me. Finny, let's have some of the tea and make sure you leave at least a cupful for our lord. I fear he will need its restorative powers himself.” Nohemtay settled himself fully in the chair and closed his eyes. “Children, fetch the food and drink. These folks have come a fair distance. Bring an extra mug.”

“Yes, Father,” the boy and girl chorused before darting out of the room.

Finny took Nohemtay's hand and wrapped it around the filled mug. “Drink.”

Once Nohemtay finished the tea, Finny set the mug down and faced the others in the room. “Please, forgive my ill manners. Sit, be comfortable. Food and drink will be here in a moment. It is as my husband said, you have come a long way and should rest.”

“Finny?” Gandalf tried to make the word both a statement and a question.

“I am Finduilas, but I've gone by Finny most of my life. My husband is-”

“Finny, I will tell the tale in my own way. As you well know.” Nohemtay's brown eyes had opened and the his voice held a hint of steel.

“Yes, husband.”

Baran and Nessa returned carrying two filled trays. They set the trays down and vacated the room silently. Food and empty plates filled one tray while pitchers and goblets sat on the other. Setting out the plates, Finny said, “It is not fancy fare, but it is good, wholesome food and drink. There is malt beer, a decent wine, fruit juice and clear, fresh water. There is meat, cheese and bread. Help yourself.” A few pieces of cheese, several slices of meat and a thick slice of bread she placed on a plate and set before her husband before pouring some fruit juice in his mug.

“Bran,” she said, reaching down to squeeze his hand, “I've set some food aside for you. Eat it.”

“Yes, dear. And you've poured some juice, too. I know it all just as well as you. I know there are tasks you must tend to. I am safe enough here.” Nohemtay opened his eyes and smiled at the woman. “You already know all I must tell. Why sit through it again, hm?”

“Very well.” Finny shook her head and left.

Nohemtay closed his eyes, but the smile remained. After a moment, Aragorn rocked back on his heels and nearly fell over. Only Legolas' quick move kept him from sprawling on the floor. He accepted the elf's aid in getting into the nearest unoccupied chair.

Pouring juice into a goblet, Gandalf indicated that Gimli should hand it to Aragorn.

“The tea first, then the juice.” Nohemtay grimaced as he reached for the mug of juice. “The tea will help restore your energy faster than the juice. If you drink the juice first, you don't get as much benefit from the tea. Then you will need to eat.”

“I have done some healing on my own,” Aragorn said, stiffening from the knowing tone, the goblet of juice in his hand.

“How often something like this? With no backup? What did you do afterward to fight the effects of the drain it put on you? After nine hundred years of actively using this gift, we've learned what to do and what not to do to recover. Feel free to ignore my advice.” Nohemtay drained the mug in a single drink, set it down and started eating the meat.

Gandalf poured the remaining tea into a mug still on the tray and pushed it over to Aragorn.

Aragorn hesitated before he released the goblet and took the mug. He drank the tea and then drained the goblet dry.

After satisfying his initial hunger, Nohemtay said, “Eat, drink. There is no poison here, no hidden danger. I and my people are descended from men of Gondor, though we have not been acknowledged by them for many a long year. Eat, and I will tell the tale that Gandalf is so impatiently waiting for me to tell.”

Gandalf chuckled softly. “You think you know me so well?” He set his hat on the back of his chosen chair.

“At your side, I stood vigil, and more, through three long months of nights. I learned much of you from what you did and did not do.” Nohemtay gestured to the beer pitcher. “Would you be so kind, Gandalf, as to pour me some beer? I have thirsty work ahead of me.”

Handing the filled goblet to Nohemtay, Gandalf took a plate and gathered sufficient food for him before sitting down. “Legolas, Gimli, sit, eat. You too, Aragorn.” He ate while the others obeyed. Once they were eating and drinking, Gandalf leaned forward slightly. “Nohemtay I called you for I never had another name to use. Will you tell me now?”

“The name I use is Brandon, or Bran with friends and family.” Running his good hand through his hair, Brandon smiled crookedly. “The name that my loving parents hung on me at birth is Earnur the Sixth.” Aragorn's indrawn breath matched Gandalf's. “Yes, I know, it is the name of the last king of Gondor, but he is my great-something-or-other-grandfather, although I doubt he ever knew it.”

“How did this come about?” Gandalf sipped his beer.

“Earnur was headed north to Arthedain to help out. What few knew was that he actually rode overland to the Gap here, planning on going down the Isen to the sea to meet the fleet for the rest of the journey. He wanted to check on the garrison here, since it would be the first line of defense if Witch-King's forces pushed southward. Beregond was Captain of the Guard here. The garrison had brought their families since it was a permanent posting. His daughter, Telperiën, was fair and apparently liked what she saw of Earnur and he must have liked her for he stayed nearly a week.”

“How can you be sure of this?” Aragorn asked, splitting his bread and putting some meat in.

“We've got the logbooks.” Brandon shrugged. “Look, I'm not laying claim to anything, but this tower and the surrounding lands. We've held this post for countless generations. We intend to continue doing it, no matter who rules in Gondor.”

“Telperiën was as strong-willed as the Numenorean queen she was named after. She swore the only man she'd ever slept with was Earnur. The boy she called Eärendur and everyone could see by the time he was twelve he was the spitting image of Earnur, but with the way things were going, it was decided that no claim should ever be made. As Finny mentioned, we've kept the names, the ways, the knowledge of our past. But we are not pure. We've had to mingle with those who choose to live here from time to time.”

“How did you survive the time of the Dunlendings?” Aragorn poured himself more beer and refilled Brandon's goblet.

“We made a treaty with them, married back and forth, made familial ties. In the hills around, there are those family members who prefer to live wild who come down to trade. They taught us many useful things, especially once Isengard was turned over to Saruman.” Brandon's lip twisted bitterly. “He found it useful to have men serving here already. My great-grandfather decided not to tell Saruman anything about us and by the time of my grandfather it was revealed that it had been a good decision. That's when the first goblins were introduced to Isengard.”

“So you know how Saruman made his Uruk-hai?”

“Intimately.” Brandon looked at Gandalf. “That's where the knowledge of the Dunlendings came in real handy. Oh, and the lovely Celebros, a wondrous fair Elven woman who stayed for nearly a hundred years. Reading through the journals, I am of the mind that she knew we would need her learning and skills to survive this time. I'm sure it seemed as though no time at all to her, but she taught our women many things and ensured that we became what we are today. You see, we can not have children except with our chosen mate and only when we both agree.”

“How?”

Brandon sighed softly. “It is a magic laid into our very bones, passed on to our children. The journals says it was a mixture of Dunlending magic and Elven magic. When we come of age, we are told how we may have children with only our spouse and no other. We have developed some... interesting customs within our community that Saruman took advantage of, though not as he wanted it to. We never told him why his plans did not succeed.”

Gandalf nodded. “Wise.”

“What plans?” Gimli was refilling his goblet.

“He wanted to breed goblins, orcs, and men to create a better orc. More intelligent and able to tolerate sunlight.”

“He succeeded,” growled Gimli. “We've fought them several times.”

“No doubt.” Brandon twirled his goblet slowly. “He tried to use us for his breeding program. For the last two hundred and fifty years, every one of our children once they came of age was forced to perform so he could be sure that nothing had changed.” He looked at Gandalf. “All of them.”

The pain in Brandon's eyes made Gandalf close his eyes and bow his head slightly. He knew what it felt like as an adult of many years. What sort of experience was it for a child just becoming sexually aware? A shudder of horror ran through him as he gave Brandon a slight nod.

“The cruelty of it!” Legolas jumped to his feet, anger radiating from him. “No child should be forced to endure such a fate.”

“It's not their first experience, fortunately, but it's something I had hoped to spare my children. If this hadn't happened, my daughter would have been taken down in a week.”

“How could you just let her?” Legolas darted around Aragorn and grabbed Brandon by the bloody shirt front, jerking him forward in the chair and spilling the beer on the table.

In a dead calm voice, Brandon answered and, as he spoke, Legolas' face paled. “And tell me, elf, which would you do? Teach them the pleasures of sex before they go into the damned pits for a week and then be there to hold them afterward or would you cut the throats of every man, woman and child under your care? For if we did not do this, every one of my people would have been turned over to the orcs for their so-called 'enjoyment' with no reprieve. Tell me, princeling, would you condemn your mother, your wife, your children to that fate? Or would you take the lesser evil and do what you could to ease their pain?”

“I could do neither.”

“Then they will all die and you will watch them die before being allowed to die.” The chill in Brandon's voice matched the one in his eyes as he reached up and grabbed Legolas' wrist. “Until you can make such decisions, do not dare to judge me or mine. We live with the decision every day.” He twisted Legolas' wrist and flung the elf toward the wall. “My people made the decision two hundred and fifty years ago and we'd survived this long on hope and doing our best to sabotage the breeding program. Hope arrived at long last.”

Legolas rubbed his wrist and stared at the injured man.

Softly Aragorn asked, “How? How did Saruman manage to succeed with his breeding program?”

“Poor souls who's misfortune it was to wander too close. Wild Men that his goblins and orcs caught in the hills. Anyone that Saruman figured would not be missed. Even a couple of Elves once.”

Aragorn intercepted Legolas as the elf leaped at Brandon again. “Sit down, Legolas and let him finish the tale. I doubt his people would have left elves at the mercy of orcs.”

“We did not. It took some serious risks and we nearly failed, but they both died within a week of their capture. I was not happy about it, but it was better than what they were suffering.”

“Why didn't you free them like you did Gandalf?”

Brandon snorted, glancing at Gandalf. “Do you put up with this?”

“He is usually better mannered.” Aragorn pushed Legolas back and in a low voice said, “Sit down. You are behaving as badly as Gimli did at Lothlorien.”

“I did not!” Gimli slammed his goblet down.

Aragorn merely looked at him over his shoulder.

“Ah, well, it was just that once.” Gimli quickly sipped his beer.

Sternly, Gandalf said, “You are repaying our host's hospitality with rudeness, Legolas. I can answer your question, but I will not until you apologize and sit down.”

“A forced apology is not one I will accept, Gandalf. I do not demand one. It is enough for me that you understand.” Brandon grimaced as he saw that his goblet was empty.

A hard look and Aragorn pushed Legolas toward his seat. He reached over and poured Brandon more beer. “I will apologize for my companion's bad manners, my lord.” He placed the goblet in Brandon's hand and then wrapped his own hands around the other's, sinking to one knee. “Forgive him and myself for allowing him to lay hands on you in anger.”

“It is not for the servant to forgive the lord.”

“You have as much claim as I do.”

Brandon shook his head. “No. Your line is known and acknowledged. Mine is just muddy water to try and dirty you. I have had a lifetime of leadership here in charge of nearly four thousand souls. I do not want the responsibility of an entire empire.”

“Still, I ask your forgiveness.” Aragorn bowed his head slightly over their clasped hands.

A smile quirked Brandon's lips as he said, “Then I must do so. Forgiven, my lord. Now get up and finish your meal.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

Gandalf waited until Aragorn had resumed his seat and taken a drink of his beer. “If you may recall when we met in Fangorn Forest, I told you how I escaped. I was imprisoned on the top of this tower, unable to leave it. I had to engineer my own escape. All Brandon did was leave me when my rescue came so he could honestly tell Saruman he had no idea how I escaped.”

“By the way, just how did you?”

“The Lord of the Eagles came for me.” Gandalf smiled.

“Such friends you have.” Brandon chuckled.

“You spoke of waiting for hope and that it arrived. What did that mean?” Aragorn settled back in his chair, fingers tracing the intricate designs on the goblet's base.

“It arrived in the form of a captive wizard who knew something that Saruman desperately wanted and refused to surrender the information despite many long nights of torture.”

“Didn't I?” Gandalf raised an eyebrow in speculation at Brandon.

“When you've spent your entire life lying to save others, you know when you're seeing another liar of the same caliber. I knew better than to believe that act you gave Garst. I knew whatever it was lay to the West.”

“And you never told?” Aragorn paused in his tracing.

“What do you think?”

“I think you prayed every night that he never actually asked you,” Gandalf said quietly.

“Indeed. I carried an extra sharp dagger with me at all times, just in case. Even he could not stop me from dying from that wound.” Brandon flashed his smile. “I never needed it, fortunately.”

“You have made decisions I could not easily do. There is far more strength in you than you admit to.” Aragorn raised his eyes to meet Brandon's. “Why did you make that choice?”

“Gandalf. He said the freedom of all would depend on choices made. I have never willingly aided evil, not even Saruman could make me do that. And when I've had to hurt others to protect yet others, I've always done what I could to ease the hurt.”

Gandalf shook his head and said, “What a fool I am. You used your healing on me every night.”

“Yes.” Brandon set his beer down on the table before bringing his eyes up to Gandalf's. “I am glad you escaped that night. I had no desire to steady the dagger or have you subjected to that vile plan.”

“Sounds as if you left a bit out, Gandalf.” Gimli gave the wizard a hard look. “What happened?”

“It is not of your concern. It did not come to pass.” Gandalf drew himself up and glared at the dwarf who merely stared back.

“It isn't going to work with me, Gandalf. I am not a hobbit.” Gimli folded his arms, glaring back.

When Gandalf refused to answer, Brandon said quietly, “Saruman was going to use him in the breeding program. Thought it was an ideal way to deal with the 'meddlesome fool' I believe was the way he stated it.”

“You should not have told them, Brandon.” Gandalf did not have to look at the other three to know the horror in their eyes. He could feel it in the very air. “They did not need to know.”

“I disagree. Anyone with eyes can see how upset this place makes you. They should know what it is that bothers you.” Brandon leaned forward and his voice came hard as steel. “That foul monster was going to have you dragged to the deepest, nastiest pit of that abomination outside and have you chained for any orc, male or female, to use as they saw fit. Countless new orcs would have been born with who knows what new abilities. The very thought of the possibility of siring a new breed of orc terrified you and He kept you from being able to kill yourself from the top of this very tower. You wanted me to kill you rather than let them take you. That is what bothers you, Gandalf. You know it and now they know it so they can understand what is going on in that head of yours.”

“Gandalf, why would a new breed of orc been created if you had been forced to this?” Gimli frowned, stroking his beard.

“I am a wizard, Gimli. I am not a mortal man. I come from the Undying Lands. I told you I was sent here for a purpose and it has not been achieved.”

Comprehension dawned in the eyes of all three. Aragorn slowly nodded, but stayed silent. Legolas asked, “When it is, you will leave?”

“Most likely.”

“So we will lose you again.”

“It all depends on what happens. If Sauron retrieves what he is looking for, then all of our lives are forfeit.” Gandalf sighed heavily. “Do not dwell on it. I do not wish to, for just one night.” His eyes strayed to Brandon's face and he found that the other watched him.

“Legolas, Gimli, I believe we should join Theoden and the army. Make sure that they are able to rest and be ready to ride out in the morning.” Aragorn rose. “My lord, I thank you for the food, the drink and the 'tale', as you put it. Gandalf, do not feel that you must rush back to the camp. I am sure you would like to talk with Brandon more.”

“That I would. Thank you, Aragorn.”

“He'll make a fine king. He's already got most of it down.” Brandon started to get up.

“No. You need to rest. There is no reason for you to walk us out.” Aragorn held Brandon down with a hand on his shoulder. “We will leave you two to talk.” He walked behind Brandon and jerked his head toward the door.

Hastily Gimli rose, finishing off his beer. “Thank you. Tell your wife it was good food and excellent beer.”

“She will be pleased to hear that, Master Gimli.”

As Gimli headed for the door, Legolas stood, took a step and stopped. “I must ask your forgiveness, my lord. I acted poorly and questioned without understanding.”

“I will forgive you... if....” Legolas stiffened. “You swear to return in a year's time and tell me of everything this mess is about. With Gandalf.”

“That I can swear to.”

“Then go, Prince Legolas, and know that you and all your kind are welcome here. And so are Dwarves.”

Aragorn led the way to the outside. He halted at the top step. “Both of you-”

“Why did you rush us out of there, laddy?” Gimli turned Aragorn around so he could look the man in the face.

Exasperated, Aragorn snapped, “Couldn't you see? They both want to talk, alone, without us.”

Legolas nodded. “There is more that they are not telling.”

“I can make a guess now.” Aragorn shook his head. “Both of you go to Theoden. Help the army settle down. I will be along shortly. There is something else here I need to know and I will only find it on my own.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, Gimli.”

****

Gandalf waited until he knew the others had left the immediate vicinity before rising and going to Brandon. “You shouldn't have risked injury on my part,” he said, crouching beside the man's chair.

“It wasn't only for you.” Brandon raised his fingers and caressed Gandalf's cheek. “He had been sniffing around my daughter the last month, just waiting. When all of this broke, he made a bee-line straight for her quarters. So I killed him, for both of you.”

“So much trouble you have taken on my behalf, Brandon. Why?”

“You have to ask?” Rubbing his thumb over Gandalf's lips, Brandon smiled. “My dear Finny did so enjoy you. As did I. Every time, especially the last. I think in a way she regrets the fact it can't happen again.”

“What about you?” Gandalf could feel his groin tightening, responding just to the thoughts.

“So do I.”

“There's no reason it cannot.” Turning his head, Gandalf kissed Brandon's palm. “All you need do is ask.” His breathing sped up as he grew harder.

“Would you give yourself to me, here, now?”

He could see the increased pace of Brandon's pulse in the man's wrist. “Yes.” Looking up, Gandalf said, “I do not know if the binding died when I did.”

“Then we'll find out together.” Tugging on Gandalf's chin, Brandon brought him over to his lap. “Sit and let me kiss you.”

****

Aragorn returned to the room where he had left Brandon and Gandalf. About to knock and enter, he froze at the sight of the wizard sitting on Brandon's lap, kissing him eagerly. One of the man's hands was entwined in Gandalf's hair and the other was pulling the white robes aside until Gandalf's hard cock was freed.

Brandon tugged Gandalf's head back and panted for a few seconds. “Oh, yes, you are ready. Better grab a towel from the table.” He tucked the towel Gandalf handed him between them. “Let's find out if his binding is still in place. Come.”

Shudders ran through Gandalf as he climaxed, no hand on his hardness. Gandalf half-turned away from Brandon, away from the door, with a soft sob. “His binding still holds. I shall never be able to be free in my loving again.”

Gently Brandon cleaned up Gandalf. “It all depends on how you do it. I have It. I know the words. I would never go to the lengths He did, but as I recalled you preferred it to the alternative.”

“Anything is better than that, even not having it at all.”

“Can't have that, now can we... my lord?” Brandon looked straight at Aragorn. “Either leave or come in and shut the door.”

Gandalf's head spun around and, to Aragorn's shock, tears were in the brilliant blue eyes and running down the pale cheeks. The sight of the tears brought Aragorn into the room, his hand absently shoving the door shut behind him, as he strode over to Gandalf. “What did Saruman do to you? What is so bad that you of all people would deny yourself?” He laid his hand lightly on Gandalf's shoulder.

The tears were of shame Aragorn realized as Gandalf dropped his gaze and he watched the wizard's entire posture slump. “Gandalf, I have known you my entire life. I would do nothing to hurt you. Surely you know this?”

A nod was all Gandalf would do and Aragorn watched as Brandon curled a hand behind Gandalf's head and brought it down to his shoulder.

“It's all right.” Brandon stroked Gandalf's long white hair while he looked up at Aragorn. “Our lord and master here became obsessed with rings. Magic rings to be worn on various parts of the body. He used one on Gandalf. He also used Gandalf's own staff against him to create a special magical binding, a sexual binding that left him utterly unable to deny any sexual suggestions. He has to obey and he hates himself while he's doing it. By using his staff to do it, Saruman ensured that it could not be broken, ever.”

“Gandalf? Is this true?”

“Yes!”

The loathing in Gandalf's voice made Aragorn reach down to lift the wizard's head. “Don't shut me out. Don't shut us out. Don't deny yourself completely because of this. It can be worked around. I still remember that night in Minas Tirith.” Aragorn smiled knowingly. “The night you introduced me to a certain house. Taught me some new skills.”

“You needed a broader education,” Gandalf said stiffly.

“I certainly got it. When you allow yourself to, you enjoy it all. We'll figure something out, Gandalf.”

“I hate myself like this.”

“Then let us find a way to enjoy it and remember how to love yourself.” Aragorn cupped the long face. “I am no lover of men, Gandalf, as you well know, but even I can not leave you in this state. Let me help.”

“See? I told you not to worry.” Brandon lightly touched Gandalf's shoulder. “Even with the help of his healing, I am not up to doing anything as vigorous as you would like. And I think, my dear Gandalf, you need it now. Is that so?”

A deep moan escaped Gandalf. “Yes. Now.” He tilted his head back, breathing hard.

“We will not be interrupted here. Let me see all of you, Gandalf.” Brandon ran his hand down Gandalf's chest to knead just above the hard cock. “Let me feast my eyes on you.”

Aragorn could only watch as Gandalf rose to stand at Brandon's feet and slowly undid his belt. The white robes were tossed over the chair Aragorn had sat in earlier, leaving the lean, muscled body revealed to view. Burn scars snaked across the chest and abdomen while he could see scars from the burning whip on Gandalf's legs.

“The Balrog did all this?” Aragorn could barely breathe the words.

“And more. I would not speak of it. To anyone.” Gandalf stood with his head down, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Gandalf, come and kiss me again.”

Sitting once more on Brandon's lap, Gandalf kissed the man and Aragorn could see the way Gandalf's body tautened and grew more excited. Gandalf breathed hard and fast when he sat up a moment later and, to Aragorn's surprise, he found himself affected.

“I think Aragorn needs a kiss.”

Gandalf rose and took the single step to stand before Aragorn. “”Is this what you want?”

“Yes,” Aragorn managed despite the sudden thickening of his voice.

The lips that touched his were tentative at first, then grew eager when he did not push away. The body that pressed against him was not that of a withered old man, but that of a warrior still battle-ready. He moaned softly when Gandalf slid a hand down his side to cup his buttocks and squeeze lightly. “You seem pretty damn used to this, Gandalf,” he muttered when released from the kiss. He tucked an errant strand of hair back behind the wizard's ear.

“I have more nights than I can remember upon the top of this tower and Saruman to thank for it.”

“Such bitterness is not for you, Gandalf. I would take it from you and give you only gladness.” Aragorn ran his hand up a muscled arm.

“Then let us get started.”

Gandalf's hands were suddenly on Aragorn's belt and, to the man's surprise, he was soon neatly disrobed, revealing his own scarred and hardening body. A gasp escaped Aragorn when Gandalf dropped to his knees and sucked him into his mouth. He couldn't help grabbing the white head and trying to thrust forward though he kept from burying himself fully.

He staggered when Gandalf grabbed his ass and pulled him deeper into the warm mouth, groaning as the wizard's tongue licked the underside of his cock.

“He is not used to gentle. Saruman insisted on hard and fast, preferably brutally.” Brandon met Aragorn's startled gaze. “Only once has it been with kindness here. I had that pleasure.”

“I will not be violent.” With an effort, Aragorn pulled himself free of Gandalf's mouth and the delicious fire the wizard had been creating. “Do you hear me, Gandalf? There will be no violence from me.”

“Yes.”

The strangled word told Aragorn much and he ran his hands through the white hair, tilting Gandalf's head back. “We will take our time. There is no hurry.”

“The fire burns through me, Aragorn. I need...”

“What do you need?” The blue eyes gazing up at him were filled with heat, desire and want. Aragorn ran his thumbs over the narrow cheekbones. “Tell me what you need.”

Gandalf hesitated.

“Do you want It?” Hand resting on his pouch, Brandon waited.

Gandalf looked at Brandon. “As much as I hate It, yes, I do.” He remained on his knees.

Aragorn caught the split ring Brandon tossed at him. “What is this?”

“Are you ready for It, Gandalf?”

“Yes.” Gandalf took the ring from Aragorn and secured it in place, moaning softly at the all too familiar feel and the way his body hardened further.

“You never answered his question, you know.”

Aragorn glanced down at Gandalf as the wizard spoke in a harsh whisper. “I need... I need to be taken. I need it hard and fast.” His eyes widened as Gandalf continued. “I need you to fuck me.”

“Easy, Gandalf. He's never done this before and we don't want you getting hurt. That is not what this is about. I think there's some oil on the table.”

Aragorn put his hand on Gandalf's shoulder and kept him from rising. “I am a part of this, Gandalf. Relax and let me do something.” He looked at the table and spotted the oil flask. “I can guess its function.” The oil felt cool in his hand when he poured it and he bit back a moan as he coated his hardness. “How shall we do this?”

Getting to his feet, Gandalf shoved everything on the table aside before lying down on his back, drawing his legs up to his chest. “This way.”

Between Gandalf's legs, Aragorn hesitated, suddenly unsure. A hard clothed body pressed up against his back and an arm wrapped about his waist. “Just take it easy going in. It will feel good. Put yourself at his opening.”

Aragorn obeyed Brandon's quiet instructions and soon found himself buried in Gandalf who squirmed and eagerly begged for him to get started. The way Gandalf begged excited him which worried him somewhat, though he could not retreat now. The tightness of Gandalf's body indeed felt good and he wanted nothing more than to give Gandalf exactly what he was begging for.

“Keep it slow,” advised Brandon, “until you've both adjusted.”

Released from Brandon's hold, Aragorn withdrew slightly and then pushed forward, making Gandalf arch and beg harder.

Back in his chair, Brandon watched and enjoyed as Aragorn became lost in the act, hearing Gandalf beg and urge the other man to ever more speed and depth. Climax overcame Aragorn, jerking him forward with a loud cry and burying him even deeper in Gandalf.

Breathing hard, Aragorn braced himself against the table. A glance down at Gandalf made him stiffen. “It keeps you from achieving satisfaction?”

Gandalf grasped Aragorn's forearms as he wrapped his legs around the man's waist. “Yes. It is needed. Please, do not stop.”

“You heard him, Aragorn. I will tell you about the ring he's wearing while you do so.” Waiting until Aragorn resumed, Brandon sipped his beer. “The binding has a nasty side effect. If not kept in check with that ring, our dear friend here must climax continuously so long as he is able. For one full night Saruman had him used without that ring. Can you imagine what it would be like to come so many times you're screaming with the agony of it?”

“Gandalf?” Aragorn ran a hand over the heaving chest that twisted beneath him.

“Fire burning me from the inside, eating away with each climax until darkness overcame me at long last. Only to have it repeated again and again. It was the worst of Saruman's tortures. I would have gladly suffered every other torture before that one again.”

“Is this not just another torture?”

“A far more pleasant one. When we finish I will come and have my enjoyment. And good it will be. Now, please, Aragorn. Take me again. Hard and fast. Do not hold back this time.” Gandalf arched upward, pulling Aragorn into him.

“You are sure of this, Gandalf?”

“Yes! Now, please!”

The urgent need in Gandalf's voice and face decided Aragorn. He started to thrust faster. Gandalf's hands remained clenched to his forearms and they tightened as Gandalf reacted to his climax a bit later. Crying out, Aragorn sank down until his forearms rested on the table. He panted with the effort expended.

When Aragorn made as if to remove the ring, Gandalf grabbed his hand. “Not yet.”

“Why not?”

“I have one more duty and if I come beforehand, I will only become ready once more and have to go through it all over again.”

“What duty?”

“Do you think that Brandon watches unaffected?”

Aragorn glanced at Brandon who grinned at Gandalf before saying, “You are such a wondrous sight, Gandalf. How could I not enjoy it?”

Gandalf allowed Aragorn to pull free and rose to his feet, grabbing the towel that Brandon had used earlier. He cleaned Aragorn thoroughly using some of the wine. Crouching before Brandon, he soon had the man's hard shaft exposed.

Catching Gandalf's head before the wizard to begin to suck on him, Brandon said quietly, “You do not have to do that. A hand would be just as good.”

“I want to, Brandon. I make this choice. That is what this is about.” Gandalf bent his head and mouthed the tip of Brandon's cock. “Please, Brandon, allow me.”

“I did not intend to stop you. I just wanted to be sure it was what you wanted to do.”

Aragorn found himself watching as Gandalf made love to the other man's cock. In minutes, the hands entwined in the white hair clenched and Brandon's eyes closed as he arched in the chair.

Brandon stroked Gandalf's hair while he was being sucked dry. “How would you like it?”

Licking his lips, Gandalf turned his gaze on Aragorn. “If Aragorn is willing, I would come with him as he takes me once more.”

“Your desire for me makes my spirit willing, but I do not know if the flesh is,” Aragorn admitted, though the thought of burying himself once more in Gandalf made his breathe faster.

“Let's see if I can help.” Gandalf gave Aragorn an eager smile and drew the man closer.

Pleasure surged through Aragorn as Gandalf sucked him into his mouth. It took several minutes, but he soon thrust his shaft into the willing mouth.

Gandalf pulled free and said, “I think the flesh is now as willing as the spirit.”

“If not more so.” Quickly Aragorn recoated his cock as Gandalf rose and faced the table. His entrance brought a gasp of pleasure from both him and Gandalf. Hearing Gandalf moan in desire caused a fire to flare in him.

“Hard and fast. Fuck me senseless! Please!”

It took everything Aragorn had to do as Gandalf desired. He could see Gandalf rocking forward with every thrust, grunting with a pleasure he had never sen except in the most wanton of whores. His climax hit him like a mule's kick and he dove home mindlessly as it overcame him. He never heard Gandalf's cry of release.

****

Neither man on the table stirred as Brandon carefully shifted them around and cleaned them up. The ring was tucked back away in his pouch for safe keeping.

****

Aragorn opened his eyes, aware that he was tired and sore in ways he hadn't been for years.

“Back among us, eh?” Brandon sat beside Gandalf, stroking the still quiet head.

“Yes.”

“Thank you. He needed this and I could not give it to him.”

A look around and Aragorn found that his clothes were neatly folded beside him. “I will not stay. You two still need to talk.”

“We can do that now.”

Dressing quickly, Aragorn said, “Tell him when he wakes, I will tell no one of this. Nor will I expect it again. I am glad I could help and it felt good, but this is not what I prefer.”

“Go in good health, my king.”

“We ride at dawn.”

“He will be there.”

Aragorn nodded and headed for the door. About to open it, he paused and turned back to Brandon. “Do not hurt him. Or I will come back for you.”

“That is the farthest thing from my mind. He is safe here.”

“Good.” Aragorn strode out, making sure the door shut behind him. It was time to return to the waiting army.

****

Gandalf woke slowly, knowing only that someone caressed his cheek lovingly. He gave Brandon a smile as he opened his eyes.

“Feeling better now?”

“Yes.”

Even as Gandalf started to look around, Brandon said, “He left. He said to thank you for a good time and that he had no expectations of a repeat session. After all, it is not his preferred custom.” Brandon grinned.

“I should go.”

“I think you should stay. We need to talk. Aragorn knew this and said so. He also told me that you ride at dawn, so we have the rest of the day and the night. Finny is arranging to send food and supplies to your army.”

“Then I will stay the night. Though I would prefer being clothed.”

With a chuckle, Brandon said, “I do admire the view, but I don't mind. I would rather speak to you as a friend than resemble a keeper in any way.”

“You are no longer my keeper. You had ceased to be that long before my escape.” Gandalf drew his fingers across the man's cheek lightly.

“Your clothes are there beside you.”

Gandalf rose and dressed. Sitting down, he drew the nearest plate to him and poured a goblet of wine while grabbing some bread. “I feel as though I haven't eaten in days again.”

“I'm not surprised. Now, as much as I would love to really sit and talk, I have this overpowering urge to sleep.”

“Then you should.” Gandalf stood up. “Is there a better place for you to sleep in?”

“My quarters.”

“Here?”

“Yes, here. There were a few benefits to being Head Man here. Grab some of that food and bring it along. I don't mind if you eat.”

Gandalf ate, aware of Brandon's gaze from the large bed the man had stretched out on. “What will you do, now that Saruman is gone?”

“Finish cleaning out the orcs and their filth. After that, it will depend on Aragorn. He may decide to take this all away... once he is king.”

Shaking his head, Gandalf pushed his empty plate aside. “I doubt that very much. It would do him far more harm. He will keep you and yours on, perhaps deeding the land to your family, but he would not take it away.”

“Perhaps. He will have many hard decisions to make.” Brandon sighed, wincing as his ribs protested.

“Rest. Sleep. After all, that is why we came here.”

“I know, but I'm enjoying watching you.”

Rising, Gandalf sat on the edge of the bed. “Make yourself comfortable.” He waited until Brandon indicated that he had and lay down on the bed behind the man. “Will this help?” he asked, sliding an arm under Brandon's head and wrapping the other over the man's hip.

“Definitely.”

Sleep overtook the man in minutes and Gandalf settled more comfortably in the bed. It surprised him how good it felt to hold Brandon in his arms. He did not fight the closing of his eyes.

****

The fading moonlight was all that remained of the night. Shadowfax stood, snorting softly and stamping a forefoot impatiently. With a laugh, Gandalf patted the horse lord on the white neck. “I know. It is nearly dawn. Let me say goodbye.”

“Take care of yourself. I expect you to keep your promise.” Brandon wrapped Gandalf in a hug.

“I will, on all counts. Be careful yourself.”

“I have no choice, not with Finny keeping an eye on me, but I'm not the one riding into war.”

“I've died once. I've no fear of death. Though it would sadden me if I did not get to come back to you.”

“Then don't get yourself killed. Now, go on. Get back to the war out there. We will hold this land for our future king.”

“You are a good man.”

“So my wife keeps telling me.”

Gandalf swung himself into the saddle. He had already checked on the palantir's wrappings to be sure it had remained untouched. The wrappings were exactly as he had left them with their minor magic indicating that no one had so much as opened the saddlebag.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh came right before Shadowfax jumped and started cantering without his urging. A glance over his shoulder showed Brandon waving. He waved then resolutely set his gaze forward.

It had been a long night once both had awakened. Telling Brandon things he had never revealed to anyone had taken a huge, unnoticed weight off his shoulders and he felt ready for the coming confrontations. When all was finished, he would return to spend time with Brandon before having to leave MiddleEarth.

****

Aragorn met Gandalf on the outskirts of the camp which was in the process of being packed up. He smiled at Shadowfax and gave the horse a carrot while he scratched under the stallion's jaw. “It is well?” he asked without looking at Gandalf.

“It is indeed.” Dismounting, Gandalf grasped Aragorn's shoulder, making him look up. Quietly, he said, “Thank you, Aragorn. Your understanding is greatly appreciated. Without your help, I think I would have given into despair over the situation. And no, that is not my normal custom either. It is something else I have to thank Saruman for.”

“I did little beyond the physical. You just needed to remember what life is about.”

“And that is, my friend?” Gandalf gazed at the future king expectantly.

“Life is about joy and sorrow. Pain and happiness. Good choices and bad ones. Good men and bad men. There is never one without the other. We just had to remind you of that, I think.”

“It is well you did. There will soon be enough bad ahead to drown anyone, including an old wizard like myself. Let us ride.”

“Old? You? Never. You're only as old as you feel, Gandalf. Isn't that what you've told me time and again? You'll never be old, my friend. Merely older than the rest of us.” Aragorn clapped Gandalf on the back. “Might as well mount up again. We'll be ready to ride in a few minutes.”

Watching as the Rohirrim finished breaking camp and started mounting up, Gandalf knew the remaining time he had on MiddleEarth would be as eventful as the previous year. He could only hope for a happy ending.