Saruman muttered to himself. Like Gandalf, Russell had fallen as far as he could fall. He had long since hit rock bottom; there was no such thing as falling further.
He clenched his fist and coughed lightly, pointing at the black canopy overhead in confusion. "What's going on with the royal palace? And what's going on with Mordor?"
"I was bored, so I decided to have some fun with old friends like Gandalf and Aragorn."
"..."
"What? What does that look in your eyes mean? Is that not okay?"
"It is, I personally have no objections, but..."
Saruman looked skyward again, his expression strange. "Why was it that the moment you wanted to have fun with Gandalf, he immediately descended upon Middle-earth?"
That was a smart person's question. Saruman could tell that Russell had authority—his status was probably very high.
"Because I spoke with Ilúvatar, and he agreed to lend Gandalf to me for amusement."
Russell patted Saruman on the shoulder and raised a brow. "Perform well. Whether you can return to the pinnacle of the Maiar and wash away the humiliation Gandalf gave you will depend on what you do next."
Gulp!
Saruman swallowed hard and hurriedly wiped away the cold sweat on his forehead. By now, even an idiot would know that Russell's identity was extraordinary—far more exalted than he had imagined.
He, Saruman the White, was clinging to this thigh no matter what!
With his goal and direction clear, Saruman immediately resolved to serve Russell faithfully. Pointing toward Mordor's barren wasteland, he said, "Great one, Mordor does not have a single soldier. If..."
Whoosh!!
With a wave of Russell's hand, hundreds of thousands of skeletons crawled out from the Gorgoroth Plains. Once all of them had emerged from the earth, black sand filled the sky and covered