I had the inspiration to write a short tie in story to Dawn of Another Day concerning the Witch King of Angmar and how he really started to rebel against Sauron. I originally intended for this to be a one chapter story, but soon found out that it was too long. As a result, some chapters may be longer than the others. Oh well...enough with the rambling, and on with the story!

Note: If you readers notice something wrong with the timeline here, it will be either explained in future chapters or I really made a mistake (I hope I didn't...).

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story. The Lord of the Rings and all related stuff all belong to the great J.R.R. Tolkien, who was surprisingly inspired by Beowulf to write his books.

Freedom of the mind was overrated.

So thought a being who had lost his free will and the ability to think for himself a long time ago. In fact, this thought was one of the few that clung to his unraveled mind even as he carried out his master's will. There was little room left for anything else, for Lord Sauron and his intentions were one and the same.

But apparently his master did not will the Lord of the Nazgûl to be sitting in his own personal lodgings in the dark tower of Barad-dûr, Mordor, with a light gray quill pen held in one hand and a heavy leather-bound book on the desk before him.

He looked at the tools of the scribe confusedly. The wraith-lord did not remember picking the quill up, or when he had written those fine words in the yellow parchment paper of the book. Sparing a quick glance at the pages, the Lord of the Nazgûl noted with surprise that it contained an accurate record of the recent events in the island country of Númenor. His bewilderment grew as he flipped through the book to find intricately illustrated maps and extensively family trees.

Lord Sauron certainly did not order him to create an archive of records, and certainly not of Númenor. The wraith-lord knew that his master held resentment against the prosperous country and had been planning an assault against it for quite a while. Who was he to disobey by carefully documenting the events of this soon-to-be doomed place? It was most likely that he would be commanded to lead the attack himself.

Indeed, the Lord of the Nazgûl, Captain of Despair, the most terrible of Lord Sauron's servants would carry out this task. He was proficient in the arcane arts of sorcery and a master swordsman, the most powerful of the Eight Nazgûl. Although the wraith-lord did not care to admit it, he was also the most confused. He did not understand the motives and actions of his fellow Ringwraiths; they spoke frequently of things he did not understand. Surely the will of Lord Sauron sustained them also, for it seemed that he alone of the Eight followed their master's orders without question.

And yet he was still the confused one, for he never remembered much of what he did recently. Sometimes he found himself in one place without remembering how he got there in the first place. There were even times when he completely lost his train of thought while speaking to the others. The Lord of the Nazgûl was fortunate that his master's will directed his intentions, or he would have wondered excessively over his increasingly pointless behavior.

Wondering and thinking and musing, such tiring and futile activities when he could be preserved by another's mind. Remembering was much worse, for the wraith-lord knew that he had forgotten many important things of his past and shunned the fact that he could not remember them. He was truly the most trustworthy and capable of Lord Sauron's servants, for only he has achieved this level of obedience while the others often questioned their master's commands.

And then there were moments like this in which he found himself recording history.

The Lord of the Nazgûl did not want to know why in some occasions he was not as sustained as he thought. He was the obedient one, the only servant Sauron trusted to share some of his confidential war plans. He could not afford to lose his master's reliance because of some confused wandering and unwitting history recording. Perhaps he should consult Lord Sauron about this phenomenon so he could be rid of it, and continue to serve him faithfully.

The wraith-lord hurriedly placed the quill back into the inkwell, closed the book and stuffed it into a drawer, just as a familiar presence pressed against his consciousness. He recognized it as his master's; Lord Sauron was capable of contacting the Nazgûl mentally if they happened to be in close proximity.

Here I thought I would be the first to take action, but it is Númenor that made the first move. Their king, Ar-Pharazôn, has begun the march to Mordor with an army that surpasses even those of the Elf lords. As much as I loath to admit it, we cannot hope to meet the Númenóreans in battle. I will turn myself in, and I wish for you to take charge of Mordor in my absence. Lord Sauron's voice was smooth despite his utterance of the harsh syllables of the Black Speech.

I am honored, Lord Mairon. The Lord of the Nazgûl replied in the same language, for it was an official regulation to speak such with the Lord of Mordor, as well as naming him Mairon. However, most servants called him Sauron regardless and after many failed attempts to correct this mistake, their master gave in and often turned a deaf ear to the title. The wraith-lord was not like them; he would honor the other's request solemnly.

I know I can trust you out of all of the imbeciles that I call servants. Sauron was pleased, I do not know how long I will be gone, but I will assuredly bring down Númenor this time, from the inside.

I am glad to hear of this, for this will save much of our military resources. May whatever you plan be successful, my lord. Your country will be the same as you left it when you return. He replied.

Do you truly mean that, my ever-loyal servant? There was a hint of amusement in the other's voice.

What do you mean? The Lord of the Nazgûl was genuinely puzzled by this sudden change of mood, for his master was rarely gladdened. Besides, why would he ever dare to not wish Lord Sauron success?

Never mind. All will be clear when it is all over. With that final vague promise, Sauron was gone before the wraith-lord could apologize for his ignorance.

For a long time he sat still as a carved statue of granite in his high-backed wooden chair as one of his confused moments struck again. He disregarded the fact that his esteemed master was willing to lower himself to a common prisoner of war, for when Sauron had mentioned Númenor, a sudden sense of familiarity had come to him. Why then? The Lord of the Nazgûl had never been to the island country before; he only learned of it through distant rumors. Even though he heard the name countless times by now, he always regarded it as one of his master's main opposing forces.

The lingering sense of dread did not fit in anywhere in his expected reactions. It even managed banish his decision to tell Sauron about his strange condition and ask for his advice.

The Lord of the Nazgûl finally shook himself from his reverie and exited his quarters. It was not necessary to concern himself whether Númenor was going to meet its doom or not. Lord Sauron's will came first, and he will take charge of Mordor with the best of his abilities in his absence.

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