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It is widely known what the symbol of the White Hand represents. From the Northern Waste to Osgiliath, the fighters of the free peoples tremble when they see the sign on their enemies' banners.
Saruman the White, who created the army of Uruk-hai, consciously chose this symbol for himself. Now, long after the war, there have been numerous discussions about the choice of this particular emblem.
Dear reader, I can shed light on this matter, for I was present when the era of the White Hand was about to begin. To protect my identity, I am compelled to publish this document in secret. It is pure luck that you, esteemed reader, have stumbled upon it.
It was a day like any other in the Tower of Orthanc. While the white wizard had been brooding over various books for hours, occasionally gazing thoughtfully into his Palantir, various menial servants were going about their tasks.
The Lord of the Tower had been searching for days for a way to establish contact with another Palantir, or so I assumed at that time. Later it would be revealed that he planned nothing less than to join forces with Sauron; or deceive him? His motives are not relevant at this point.
Suddenly, the old wizard jerked upright. With a speed that no one would have expected from the old man, he hurled his staff forward and made one of the heavy books on his study table zip through the air into his hand. Swoosh!
Most of those present were already accustomed to witnessing various strange behaviors from our Lord and paid little attention to this display.
At this point, it must be mentioned that Saruman had already been planning to create Uruk-hai, which is why his halls were increasingly populated with corrupt creatures. This, too, was dismissed by his subordinates as just another peculiarity of a very old man.
One of these subordinates, a pitifully disfigured Orc, had been busy tending to the Great Wizard's cats just moments ago.
Startled and disturbed by the jumping and the flying book, he stumbled forward and fell flat on his face. Time seemed to stand still as one of the cats let out a pained cry; the unfortunate Orc had inadvertently leaned on its tail.
Everyone in the room tried to merge with the walls, columns, and the floor, as the cold gaze of the wizard fixed upon the creature.
Lately, the wizard's mood had been particularly sour. "No wonder when all he does is pore over dusty tomes all day long," my superior had aptly observed. The knowledgeable man vanished without a trace soon after making that statement.
Saruman slowly rose from the uncomfortable monstrosity that passed for a chair. I had to know, as I had already taken a seat on it behind his back on more than one occasion.
While the Orc also tried to blend in with its surroundings, the fallen Head of the White Council traversed the room.
A pitiful whimper escaped from the cowering creature on the floor. In any other situation, it might have still expected help this time, but self-preservation had become our paramount concern.
A challenging endeavor when one sought to confront an angry wizard. Morality was the first thing to bid farewell when one's own life was at stake.
Saruman came to a halt, looking down at the whimpering figure at his feet, his already wrinkled brow furrowing further.
Once again, time stood still. Nothing moved in the great hall except for the trembling of the Orc. Even the usually untamed cats remained still.
For the reader's understanding, it must be mentioned at this point how the creature had propped itself up in the bright sand where the cats usually did their business. Ew.
Fortunately, it had been after emptying and refilling the basin, but still, a certain disgust remained.
"I shall deal with you later," declared the wizard. With a flick of his wrist, the screaming being rose from the floor, higher and higher, until it reached the top of the tower.
This would not be the last time it was used as a prison, despite being the first.
The screaming came to an end, and still, no one dared to move. Deliberately leaning forward, the wizard rested on his staff and fixed his gaze on a spot in the sand.
It was in that moment that Saruman spotted, for the first time, the imprint of the White Hand. Whatever it was that convinced him amidst the claws imprinted in the white cat litter, it would be enough to become his new symbol.