Merry looked round in dismay and disgust. "Let's get out!" he said. "If I had known all the mischief he had caused, I should have stuffed my pouch down Saruman's throat."

"No doubt, no doubt! But you did not, and so I am able to welcome you home." There standing at the door was Saruman himself, looking well-fed and well-pleased; his eyes gleamed with malice and amusement.

A sudden light broke on Frodo. "Sharkey!" he cried.

Saruman laughed. "So you have heard the name, have you? All my people used to call me that in Isengard, I believe. A sign of affection, possibly. But evidently you did not expect to see me here."

"I did not," said Frodo. "But I might have guessed. A little mischief in a mean way: Gandalf warned me that you were still capable of it.

"Quite capable," said Saruman, "and more than a little. You made me laugh, you hobbit-lordlings, riding along with all those great people so secure and so pleased with your little selves. You thought you had done very well out of it all, and could now just amble back and have a nice quiet time in the country. Saruman's home could be all wrecked, and he could be turned out, but no one could touch yours. Oh no! Gandalf would look after your affairs."

Saruman laughed again. "Not he! When his tools have done their task he drops them. But you must go dangling after him, dawdling and talking, and riding round twice as far as you needed. "Well," thought I, "if they're such fools, I will get ahead of them and teach them a lesson. One ill turn deserves another." It would have been a sharper lesson, if only you had given me a little more time and more Men. Still I have already done much that you will find it hard to mend or undo in your lives. And it will be pleasant to think of that and set it against my injuries."

"Well, if that is what you find pleasure in," said Frodo, "I pity you. It will be a pleasure of memory only, I fear. Go at once and never return!"

The hobbits of the villages had seen Saruman come out of one of the huts, and at once they came crowding up to the door of Bag End. When they heard Frodo's command, they murmured angrily:

"Don't let him go! Kill him! He's a villain and a murderer. Kill him!"

Saruman looked round at their hostile faces and smiled. "Kill him!" he mocked. "Kill him, if you think there are enough of you, my brave hobbits!" He drew himself up and stared at them darkly with his black eyes. "But do not think that when I lost all my goods I lost all my power! Whoever strikes me shall be accursed. And if my blood stains the Shire, it shall wither and never again be healed."

The hobbits recoiled. But Frodo said: "Do not believe him! He has lost all power, save his voice that can still daunt you and deceive you, if you let it. But I will not have him slain. It is useless to meet revenge with revenge: it will heal nothing. Go, Saruman, by the speediest way!"

"Worm! Worm!" Saruman called; and out of a nearby hut came Wormtongue, crawling, almost like a dog. To the road again, Worm!" said Saruman. "These fine fellows and lordlings are turning us adrift again. Come along!"

Saruman turned to go, and Wormtongue shuffled after him. But even as Saruman passed close to Frodo a knife flashed in his hand, and he stabbed swiftly. The blade turned on the hidden mail-coat and snapped. A dozen hobbits, led by Sam, leaped forward with a cry and flung the villain to the ground. Sam drew his sword.

"No, Sam!" said Frodo. "Do not kill him even now. For he has not hurt me. And in any case I do not wish him to be slain in this evil mood. He was great once, of a noble kind that we should not dare to raise our hands against. He is fallen, and his cure is beyond us; but I would still spare him, in the hope that he may find it."

Saruman rose to his feet, and stared at Frodo. There was a strange look in his eyes of mingled wonder and respect and hatred. "You have grown, Halfling," he said. "Yes, you have grown very much. You are wise, and cruel. You have robbed my revenge of sweetness, and now I must go hence in bitterness, in debt to your mercy. I hate it and you! Well, I go and I will trouble you no more. But do not expect me to wish you health and long life. You will have neither. But that is not my doing. I merely foretell."

He walked away, and the hobbits made a lane for him to pass; but their knuckles whitened as they gripped on their weapons. Wormtongue hesitated, and then followed his master.

"Wormtongue!" called Frodo. "You need not follow him. I know of no evil you have done to me. You can have rest and food here for a while, until you are stronger and can go your own ways."

Wormtongue halted and looked back at him, half prepared to stay. Saruman turned. "No evil?" he cackled. "Oh no! Even when he sneaks out at night it is only to look at the stars. But did I hear someone ask where poor Lotho is hiding? You know, don't you, Worm? Will you tell them?"

Wormtongue cowered down and whimpered: "No, no!"

"Then I will," said Saruman. "Worm killed your Chief, poor little fellow, your nice little Boss. Didn't you, Worm? Stabbed him in his sleep, I believe. Buried him, I hope; though Worm has been very hungry lately. No, Worm is not really nice. You had better leave him to me."

A look of wild hatred came into Wormtongue's red eyes. "You told me to; you made me do it," he hissed.

Saruman laughed. "You do what Sharkey says, always, don't you, Worm? Well, now he says: follow!" He kicked Wormtongue in the face as he grovelled, and turned and made off. But at that something snapped: suddenly Wormtongue rose up, drawing a hidden knife, and then with a snarl like a dog he sprang on Saruman's back, jerked his head back, cut his throat, and with a yell ran off down the lane. Before Frodo could recover or speak a word, three hobbit-bows twanged and Wormtongue fell dead.

To the dismay of those that stood by, about the body of Saruman a grey mist gathered, and rising slowly to a great height like smoke from a fire, as a pale shrouded figure it loomed over the Hill. For a moment it wavered, looking to the West; but out of the West came a cold wind, and it bent away, and with a sigh dissolved into nothing.

Frodo looked down at the body with pity and horror, for as he looked it seemed that long years of death were suddenly revealed in it, and it shrank, and the shrivelled face became rags of skin upon a hideous skull. Lifting up the skirt of the dirty cloak that sprawled beside it, he covered it over, and turned away.

"And that's the end of that," said Sam. "A nasty end, and I wish I needn't have seen it; but it's a good riddance."

"And the very last end of the War, I hope," said Merry.

"I hope so," said Frodo and sighed. "The very last stroke. But to think that it should fall here, at the very door of Bag End! Among all my hopes and fears at least I never expected that."

"I shan't call it the end, till we've cleared up the mess," said Sam gloomily. "And that'll take a lot of time and work."