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B2MeM Challenge: Hobbits: O-68, "Sharkey"
Format: Ficlet, Inner Monologue
Title: Sharkey Arrives at Bag End
Genre: Gapfiller
Rating: G
Warnings: N /A
Characters: Saruman, Grima Wormtongue, Lotho Sackville-Baggins
Pairings: N/A
Summary: Saruman's impressions of his arrival at Bag End.

Sharkey Arrives at Bag End



This smug and serene little land offends me. I was pleased to see the evidence of my men's industry about me, but there is still much to be done if I am to have my revenge on Olórin and his little pawns. I look behind me. My servant is lagging again. "Come along, Worm." He flinches. "We are nearly there."

I open the gate and walk up the path; in spite of being neglected, the garden is prolific. I shake my head-- if I have my way it will not stay that way.

I use my walking stick to rap smartly upon the green door. It is a poor substitute for my staff! I feel the anger building up again at Olórin's temerity in daring to judge me. How dare he? It was I who first chose to come here; it was I who was given authority over the other Istari!

The pox-faced fellow who opens the door is typical of these creatures, save that he exudes a certain amount of ambition lacking in most of them. "Mr. White! Your people told me you would be arriving today! Welcome to Bag End! I hope you will be comfortable in my abode." I know from my spies that this was once the home of the Ringbearer; I look forward to his expression when he sees what I will make of it.

I enter, Worm trailing behind me, carrying our few possessions. "Thank you, Mr. Sackville-Baggins," I say. "The road has been long and uncomfortable, and travelling conditions are deplorable these days!"

He introduces a wizened hagling with a sour expression as his mother. Her words of welcome are overly gracious, but I can tell from her narrowed eyes she is suspicious. I will find some way to be rid of her soon.

I am led to a room which he tells me is especially built for "Big Folk" as a guest room. I can easily guess who the room was intended for, and indeed, it stinks of him-- not only of the pipe-weed he favours, but also it stinks of Pity.

I smile. He and the Ringbearer will pity themselves when they finally return to this place.
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