"Arduous?"
Garrett didn't quite agree with that characterization.
Saruman's act of seeking out Isildur's corpse was nothing more than pure ill intent.
From the moment news spread of Isildur's death and the loss of the One Ring, what Saruman had in mind was claiming the Ring for himself, not destroying it once found.
That was why, when he discovered the Elendilmir, the first thing he did was secretly hide it away rather than announce its recovery.
Although this treasure of the Dúnedain was merely something he came across by chance, not even his main goal, it was still a rare artifact imbued with power. He immediately locked it away as his private collection.
As for what it meant to the Rangers who fought for the freedom of Middle-earth, he cared nothing. If some research required the Elendilmir, Saruman would very likely chisel it apart without hesitation.
"Arduous, huh? Do you mean that while searching for something else, you simply happened to pick up the Elendilmir, and then hid away something that belonged to others?"
"Some things should not be spoken carelessly."
Having his thoughts exposed so clearly unsettled Saruman, to the point that when he spoke again, he couldn't help but let traces of his Voice of Command seep through.
The light in the chamber dimmed, and his resonant voice echoed with power.
"I merely discovered this artifact while exploring the Gladden Fields. Nothing more. Everything you said is nothing but baseless conjecture, with no foundation in fact."
"Don't try that with me. It won't work."
Garrett waved his hand, and the darkness in the room faded. The spellbound echoes in the tower dissipated as well.
If anyone else had been sitting here, a normal man, a Dúnadan, or even an Elf whose will wasn't exceptionally strong, they might have been swayed by Saruman's Voice, their thoughts twisted.
But Garrett... When he had first arrived in this world, perhaps he would have been affected. Back then, he was still vulnerable, with nothing remarkable about him, no different from an ordinary mortal.
But now?
Even without mentioning the runic shields, the very legendary reputation he carried, born of the many tales surrounding him, naturally resisted Saruman's voice.
Whoosh.
Realizing he had lost control, Saruman took several deep breaths and quickly returned to a calm demeanor.
"Let us return to the matter at hand." He forcibly shifted the topic.
"Fine. I'll just assume you lost control because of your age." Garrett didn't seem to mind.
Saruman, for his part, ignored the barb, pretending not to hear it.
He had no choice. After all, he truly was at fault here. At best, it could be said he failed to restrain his power; at worst, it was a direct act of aggression.
Someone with a more volatile temperament would have already drawn steel by now.
"So, tell me. What must I do for you to return the Elendilmir?"
Saruman replied, "Before we discuss ownership of this gem, you must first understand that only because I found it and safeguarded it has it not fallen into the hands of those with truly dark intentions."
Garrett nodded.
That was true enough, though Saruman himself was among those with dark intentions.
After all, if he truly meant well, he could have simply returned it. Why keep it hidden otherwise?
"I don't deny that your keeping it served as a form of protection. But now, it's time for it to return to its rightful place."
"What do you want in exchange?"
The prelude was over; now came the bargaining.
Saruman fell into thought.
Garrett's domain was filled with wondrous treasures. Beyond the wealth taken from the dragon's hoard at Erebor, there was the wealth they themselves created and a great many magical artifacts.
There was the ring on his hand, those golden apples, the healing potions his soldiers used, the enchanted gear they wielded...
And the so-called "beacons" that emitted pillars of light.
Beacons.
It was said these objects could provide continuous, unbroken healing power. This power could even slow the fading of the Elves. Not only that, they could bestow various enhancements upon nearby beings.
Such as increased speed, greater strength, more durable bodies that could withstand blows, and so on.
There was surely some magical principle behind them worth investigating.
But something more precious than a beacon might exceed Garrett's willingness to trade. After all, this was only the Elendilmir. Perhaps it was of great importance to the descendants of Arnor, but to anyone else, it wasn't worth trading for something of higher value.
After weighing his options, he finally spoke, "I've heard there's a marvelous object in your domain, called a 'beacon.' I want one."
"All right."
Garrett nodded in agreement.
"I've also heard you possess a potion of strength that even your soldiers haven't all received. Could you provide me some of that?"
Seeing Garrett agree so easily, Saruman pressed his luck further.
"That's true."
Strength potions required blaze powder as the main ingredient, and at the moment it wasn't possible to mass-produce them. There simply weren't enough to supply everyone.
"How much do you want?"
As Garrett asked, Saruman raised his hand and extended three fingers.
Garrett's expression changed.
"That many?"
Saruman's face darkened as well.
"Do you mean to say that the heirloom treasure of the great northern kingdom isn't even worth so little..."
Garrett cut him off.
"Thirty bottles? What do you think, that I hand it out like ale? I only brought six bottles with me. Take them or leave them."
Saruman swallowed the rest of his words.
In truth, he had only wanted three.
"But then again," he said, "perhaps you're right. Six will suffice."
"Then it's settled."
"Agreed."
The deal struck, the two of them rose together.
Saruman led Garrett toward the hidden chamber. As they walked, his eyes couldn't help but glance back, his mind restless.
So easy?
Judging by Garrett's demeanor, it was as casual as buying someone a plate of roast meat and a mug of ale at a tavern.
It still wasn't enough.
This wouldn't do.
Before the secret chamber, Saruman suddenly stopped.
"I think perhaps our agreement wasn't entirely fair. The Elendilmir holds greater value."
"Oh?"
At the great door of the chamber, Garrett looked at him with amusement.
"So you're going back on your word?"
"Going back on my word? Not at all. I simply think we should discuss it further."
"And if I refuse?" Garrett stepped forward.
"Then you will never obtain that gem."
Saruman blocked the doorway.
"I must remind you, this door is unbreakably strong. Without my permission, no one can open it, not another wizard, not even a Vala."
"That remains to be seen."
Garrett narrowed his eyes.
"Saruman, this is my final warning: don't play games. Hand me the Elendilmir."
He drew his sword.
"If you want it, then you'll have to take it yourself."
Saruman brandished his black staff, stubbornly standing guard before the door.
Moments later...
A dark figure strode out of the tower, mounted a horse, and galloped west.
"Brute! Thief! Brigand!"
A white-robed figure followed quickly out of the tower, hurling curses after him, but it was too late. He was already far away.
Saruman pressed a hand against the right side of his face, watching the departing figure while drawing in sharp breaths.
But he was helpless.
This time, he had been reckless.
For a robed wizard to pick a fight in a confined space with an armored, swift warrior of great power, and worse, one shrouded in those strange golden runic shields. Even a White Wizard could break through such a shield with magic, but at such close quarters, there simply hadn't been time.
"My lord, I've returned with the goods you requested."
At that moment, the servant sent out earlier happened to return. Head lowered, he stepped aside to reveal the wooden barrel of supplies behind him.
"Good. Move them into the storeroom."
"Yes, my lord."
The servant obeyed, backing away. But as he did, he couldn't help glancing up at Saruman, who still held a hand over the right side of his face.
"My lord, your face..."
"Hold your tongue."
Saruman snapped sharply:
"Ask again about what you shouldn't, and I'll bind you and throw you in the river."