Black Traitor

Redeemed


GANDALF

Shall I tell this part, the last, and by far the most painful?

I will tell you that for seven weeks, Saruman and I feigned
allegiance to Sauron, and there were many trials, and many tests,
and we passed them all.

Once, Sauron forced Saruman to prove his loyalty- we knew that test
was coming, of course – and ordered him to slay me.

As Curumo stood over me with a broadsword, I saw – for the first time
since we had come to this wretched place – the old look in his eyes,
the look of evil and madness.

The look of a traitor.

I understood that he truly was prepared to carry out Sauron's
command, and I grieved – more than anything- at having lost him again.

In what I believed to be my last moments, I made a silenea tea to the
Valar, that if I could not save our lives – I could at least save my
old friend's soul.

Sauron laughed with hearty wickedness, and bade Curumo to lay down
the sword.

With obvious genuine disappointment, he did so, but said almost
conversationally to his Master – for Sauron truly was that:

"My Lord, your indulgence, but if we do not see this through now -"

Sauron had looked at Saruman with something like true love at that
moment, and had answered him in tones of deep malice:

"No, it will be alright, but Curumo- you surprise me- albeit
pleasantly!"

I must tell you, that there came a night, when the chance to escape
appeared, out of nowhere, and I forced Saruman at the point of a
blade to accompany me.

How he cursed at me, through clenched teeth, and I truly understood
that while I had feigned my submission to Annatar, Saruman certainly
had not. But I refused to let him go again. I forced him to freedom,
to his very last chance.

And I will tell you that we were pursued by the Wraiths, who this
time were not out to capture, but rather to kill.

They cornered us, and I fought them all alone- Curumo was of no mind
to do battle- alas, he ought to have understood that he was
considered an escapee now, as guilty as I.

On the brink of finally driving them away with the Light, one of them
drove his deadly sword into Curumo, deep into his side, and he made
no sound at all, but collapsed immediately.

I used the last of my energy to drive away the Fallen, and tended to
San, an, who lay ningning quietly on the cold ground.

He was by nature pale, but now he looked ashen and grey, and his eyes
had rolled up in his head.

I took him up in my arms, and he struggled weakly against me then,
but it was a half hearted battle.

And what came then, as he lay dying in my sorrowful embrace, was a
tale only I could tell:

he was unconscious for much of the time, and mercifully so. The
Wraith's malignancy had flowed into him from the sword thrust, much
as it had done to Frodo – and now, within a matter of moments, he was
fighting for every breath.

It is a tale I tell with regret, and yet hope, as well, as you will
understand, at length.

Seemingly endlessly, Curumo thrashed and moaned in the grip of the
mortal evil coursing through him.

I held him all the while, leaving only for a moment here and there,
to try to maintain my grip.

It is very difficult to watch even an enemy suffer – and this was my
blood brother – one of my own very rare kind – together for over two
thousand years, and that was only here on Middle Earth.

And then the fever came, on the fifth night, with a fury I had never
seen before in an illness.

His temperature was so intense it was painful to touch his skin, and
the delirium alternated with a near-coma.

Once, he sat bolt upright, startling me, and then frightening me even
more by looking at me with a total lack of recognition.ouldould see
in his eyes that he had no idea who I was. It is only the fever, I
had told myself then.

But it was to be much worse.

For three days and three nights he lay in sweltering, unnatural heat.
It was, most likely, his own body trying to defeat the invading
cancer of the Wraith's sword. Any Man or even Elf would have been
dead by now, yet grimly he clung to life, as his f cli climbed to
such intensity I could feel its heat as I held him.

One morning, the fever snly nly broke – and I had a powerful
intuition that something heen een cleansed, somehow – purified. There
had been a purification that would have been impossible otherwise.
From where the knowledge came, I do not know.

Saruman opened his eyes and looked at me – "Curunìr? How are you
feeling?" I asked gently, fearful of his response.

He stared at me, as if trying to remember something, and then said,
in a toneless voice: "Gandalf – Mithrandir -? I – I have felt better –
I think -" - his deep conon won was obvious, and I will not bore you
with the details of that morning, but suffice it to say that Saruman
remembered very little, after the devastating fever:

He knew me, but little else. No memory of the Ring, or Sauron, or the
War. Or anything he had done or said, for good or ill. Not even what
our Mission had been to Middle Earth, or who had sent us.

And all his learning, as if it had never happened at all- gone. All
of it.

But he is still guilty of what he's done!, Theoden had cried angrily,
when I had grimly informed them of the situation.

I had stared at him hard, with great anger, and he had clenched his
fist, and turned away from me, muttering.

The others had been, for the most part, first shocked, then
compassionate, merciful. I was grateful, and relieved.


EPILOGUE


He is waiting for me now, in that same cottage, only the door is, of
course, not locked, and there is no need to forbid him anything.

Saruman often reads the books and manuscripts I bring him – the v los loss of his memory, not quite total but very nearly so, has not
touched his wisdom and intelligence, and his desire to learn is as
powerful as ever.

Treebeard comes to him, and visits with him, speaking in gentle
rumbling Entish tones, never mentioning anything of the past, but
only teaching ( re-teaching ) him on the ways of nature –

No one speaks of the past to him.

Sauron? He eventually was defeated, and was sent to Mandos, for
another attempt at his own redemption. There is always hope, isn't
there?

Penance, I think to myself sometimes, as we lay in each other's arms
through the dark night, penance, and redemption.


The penance had been very hard, but the redemption- well, that is
priceless, isn't it?

FIN