“The alliance is established.”

After a brief conversation, Gandalf, who had been silently present, merely observing, gave the final announcement.

Thorin nodded and said, “In the name of the King under the Mountain, I swear I will ensure this alliance proceeds smoothly, with no party being taken advantage of.”

“Then I’ll vouch for it in my own name,” Garrett replied.

Thorin smiled. “That’s probably a stronger guarantee than most oaths.”

With the serious matters settled, he breathed a sigh of relief and had a lavish feast prepared, inviting the two to remain as his guests.

During the banquet, the members of the Company also gathered to join in the celebration. Perhaps it was the joy of seeing old friends, or simply the rare chance to reunite, but all the dwarves ate until their bellies were round and consumed several barrels of ale.

However, no one suggested drinking contests anymore.

The next day, after bidding farewell to the dwarves, Garrett returned first to Dale and told Gandalf to wait a moment, then entered the Nether portal alone.

He went in during the morning and returned before midday, leading out two horses, some of the finest bred at Wayfort.

“They run very fast. They’ll save us quite a bit of time. See if you can handle them.”

Garrett handed one of the horses to Gandalf.

As the wizard mounted, he said, “You’re underestimating me, Garrett. I’ve just been caring for my old—”

The moment he was in the saddle, the horse bolted forward at full speed. Caught off guard, his voice trailed off into the distance.

“You need to, uh, get used to it…”

Garrett’s warning came rather too late.

It took Gandalf a good while to adjust to the swift steed beneath him.

“So fast, so strong, I finally understand how you manage to travel around so quickly.”

“These are horses I’ve spent a long time breeding.”

A long time… about a few months, to be precise.

And so the two of them set off.

But before heading to Isengard, Garrett first made a stop in Lake-town, where he found Bard at the administrative hall and briefed him on the cooperation between Dale and Erebor.

“If there are future collaborations, just assess their feasibility on your own.”

“Understood.”

After saying goodbye to Bard, Garrett didn’t linger. He and Gandalf continued southward, crossing wildlands and rivers, heading straight for Isengard.

“It feels rather too quiet.”

On a vast stretch of endless brown earth, he looked left and right but couldn’t detect anything unusual. Or rather, the strangest thing was the complete absence of anything strange.

“If it were a year ago, wouldn’t a pack of warg-riders be pursuing us by now?”

“Most likely,” Gandalf replied. “This route is not far from the Black Gate, and there are some orc camps from the Misty Mountains nearby.”

“Normally, no one would choose this path. But I believe as long as you and your blade are around, nothing would come close.”

“Well, that’s disappointing.”

Garrett shook his head.

Sauron had been unusually quiet lately, no movement at all, almost as if he didn’t exist. Whether he was truly weakened or secretly planning something significant remained unclear…

As the days passed, the sun rose and fell.

“Garrett, should we take a rest?”

“What’s the matter?”

“Nothing serious. I just think making the horses run for several days straight without letting them rest isn’t the best practice.”

“Don’t worry. These are a special breed I developed. They don’t get tired and don’t need to eat.”

“Remarkable, creatures like that actually exist?”

“Didn’t you see them before? All the creatures from my territory are like this.”

Garrett glanced at the amulet on his chest and added, “Besides, there are many more things out there you wouldn’t even imagine.”

“Very well then.”

Gandalf chose to accept it.

By now, the two had already crossed rivers and passed through the highlands of Rohan, arriving at the edge of Fangorn Forest.

A sharp black spire had just emerged on the horizon.

That day, the sun hadn’t moved much across the sky before the two of them reached the base of the tower and secured their horses.

It had to be said, the scenery here was truly beautiful.

At this moment, Isengard was lush and vibrant, full of greenery.

Looking around, fruit trees and woods surrounded the tower of Orthanc. There was even a garden with a stream running through it, eventually gathering into a clear lake right beside the tower.

One could easily imagine that standing at the top of the tower would offer a breathtaking view.

“Honestly, this place is incredible. The terrain’s great too, far better than my stronghold.”

“Mountains, a lake, a garden, trees, and fruit hanging everywhere. In the morning, you could step outside and pluck the freshest, dew-kissed fruit right from the branch.”

“And in the center of it all stands this majestic tower.”

“It’s hard to imagine what kind of person lives in a place like this and still manages to be dissatisfied.”

Nestled against mountains and waters, shaded by green trees, this was Isengard.

At first glance, Garrett was already taken with the place.

It had all types of terrain, beautiful landscapes, and enough flat land for construction. It was, quite simply, the perfect place to build a home.

Whoever chose this spot for the tower of Orthanc had truly keen vision, an exceptional eye for location.

Leaving such a wonderful place to Saruman alone was, frankly, a waste.

“I should warn you in advance, he’s rather eccentric.”

Hearing Garrett’s admiration, Gandalf sighed and gave a preemptive heads-up, revealing some of Saruman’s true nature.

“Don’t take everything Saruman says at face value. And be careful, some of his words are meant to manipulate.”

“Every sentence he speaks carries power, like a dragon’s enchantment, it can sway those who hear it, making them believe it. Even the twisted and chaotic orcs fall prey to it.”

“Got it. Though I imagine his kind of magic won’t work on me.”

Garrett thought back: he had spent a whole day conversing with Smaug beneath the Lonely Mountain without feeling the slightest compulsion. Even earlier, when Gandalf used that intimidating magical presence on the dwarves, it had no effect on him.

As they spoke, the two climbed the black steps leading to the front gate of the tower and slowly walked inside.

“Halt.”

Before they could enter, a servant at the door blocked their way.

“Lord Saruman gave no word of visitors today. What is your business here?”

The servant’s expression was cold and indifferent, his nose in the air, looking down on them with that same arrogance Saruman was known for.

Despite the rude reception, Gandalf remained courteous.

“I am Gandalf the Grey, and this is Garrett. We’ve come to visit. Please inform Saruman of our arrival.”

“We’re happy to wait here in the meantime.”

Garrett gave a small nod, signaling his agreement with Gandalf’s words.

“I’m afraid it doesn’t matter if you’re a wizard or some Garrett. Without Lord Saruman’s permission, you’re not allowed entry. That’s a direct order from him.”

“You’ll have to leave.”

“This…”

Most likely intentional.

With Saruman’s powers, he had surely sensed their arrival the moment they reached the tower. There was no way he didn’t know.

Gandalf turned back, exasperated, but before he could say anything, Garrett had already stepped past him and approached the gate.

The calm, easygoing look in his eyes vanished, replaced by a detached, composed aura far more authentic than the servant’s haughty facade. It was the true calm of someone unfazed by anything, not arrogance, but something deeper.

As he approached, the servant’s breathing visibly hitched. Recalling all the rumors he’d heard, he instinctively took a step back.

The bravado granted by his master’s name crumbled in an instant.

“Go tell your master: Garrett has come in goodwill. If he’s in the middle of something important, I don’t mind waiting a while. But if possible, I do hope he hears of our visit today. Otherwise, by tomorrow, this tower will be nothing but rubble.”

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