'Do you have the hot oil?'

His voice is low and harsh, with the faintest edge of a caress to it. You nod and look down. This whole situation makes you slightly nervous. You've never done anything like this before and the very idea is making you feel dizzy.

'Irons?' his voice drops even lower.

You nod again, raising your eyes timidly to his face. His eyes have a spark of excitement in them and his thin, cruel lips curve upward.

'How about the Maxi Walker SuperDuper 24 Hour Moisture Booster?' he sounds almost nervous himself, as though you could possibly have forgotten the Maxi Walker SuperDuper 24 Hour Moisture Booster. After he had written it on the list three separate times.

'Of course,' you say. He beams at you.

'Come on!' he says, 'Let's get to it!'

Isengard apparently didn't have a bathroom before Saruman. This doesn't really surprise you. Gandalf the Grey looks like he hasn't washed his hair in about 10 years. But Saruman always declares that if he's going to be called 'the White', he should actually be able to maintain certain levels of hygiene. 'Certain standards of hygiene' apparently require a complete hairdressing salon, a 10 foot bath and a sauna, all in a chamber the size of the Mines of Moria.

You go to the hairdressers' chair and basin and turn on the tap, testing the water temperature with your fingers. Saruman lowers himself into the large leather chair and leans back to allow his long luxurious hair to waterfall into the basin. You stand beside him, leaning close to his body and running your fingers through his smooth tresses. A shiver runs up your spine. Saruman...

'Mm,' he murmurs, letting his eyelids fall, 'Mm, my fighting Uruk-Hai.'

'What?' you pull back, 'What did you say?'

His eyes snap open. 'What? Nothing!'

'Did you just call me your fighting Uruk-Hai?'

He looks abashed. 'No.'

'You did! You just called me your fighting Uruk-Hai!' You pull your hands from his hair and step back, hurt and appalled. 'You're thinking about him now!'

'I am not!'

Tears spring to your eyes.

'You know you're the only one...' he protests.

'The only one!' you choke, 'I go along with your twisted games! I got straightening irons for you! And all the time you're thinking about him!'

Saruman looks at you for a moment. 'You could wash his hair,' he suggests.

'Oh! Ew!' you exclaim in horror and start to storm out of the room.

This takes some time.

He calls after you, 'Come on! You might like it!'

You don't look back as you run outside, pushing Orcs aside as you go.

'You'll be back!' he thunders.

You collapse onto the steps of Isengard and burst into tears. Mostly because he's right. He's a rotten, cheating, orc-fancying bastard, but you love him, love him, love him.