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Prologue
The darkness descended upon me. I gripped my scimitars, they made me feel more in control. I was used to this, it was common. This was just another part of being a child of darkness. The searing pain of the fire, then the cooling sensation as I was dropped from the grip of the one thing I feared. The blinding light and then I leaped away, released from the torture.
"Would it kill you to be gentler?" I said, picking myself up off of the harsh, stony excuse for a "floor." I was tempted to spit on it, but I didn't want to push my luck. Instead, I settled on huffing away my annoyance and stomping out of the dimly lit chamber.
On my way out I was tempted to stab the orc door-guard, but I knew He wouldn't like that. And right now, especially now, I needed to stay on my best behavior. I needed to prove myself to Him, that would be the only way to get the mission. And how desperately I wanted it, I couldn't stand to be second best to the other one like me.
I had just left the chambers when I was greeted by the familiar roar of my best friend, AgonZajar,(DawnFire). I pulled myself onto her back and we soared. I loved to fly, and AgonZajar was the smoothest flier in all of Middle Earth. She had enormous wings and was loyal only to me. When others try to ride her she made quick work of turning them into scraps of flesh. I simply love her.
The rocky, desolate landscape below quickly faded as we went higher and higher. I suppose it's grown on me, even if it's a bit sore on the eyes. All thoughts of what's below lay forgotten though, as AgonZajar broke through the thick layer of smog and haze. Here the air, still thick and dark, was calmer, at least compared to what we're used to. When I'm up here, I can actually think without worrying about my thoughts being intruded upon. And thinking was something I'd have to do a lot of to make sure I'd get this mission,which was, in a way, my birth right.
It had been growing increasingly frustrating, this whole business of having to prove myself. And when I got frustrated, I became dangerous. Well, even more than usual. My frustration would manifest until I'd have to give it an outlet, which more often than not turned out to be some unsuspecting orc. I knew that this was an unhealthy habit but hey, AgonZajar had to eat sometime and if feeding her coincided with my intense desires to unleash my anger on some unexpecting soul (do orcs even have souls?), well then all the better.
As I flew, I let my thoughts go, I felt truly free. Just as I was about to whoop with joy two dark shadows appeared on either side of me. Not this again, I didn't like it when I was summoned by those I was so desperately trying to prove myself against. They knew that their loyalty had already been tested by time, I, however, was only a few hundred years old. I was never trusted with important missions. The most exciting thing I've done is assassinate a steward of Gondor. And while that was fun, it wasn't the sort of thing that showed He truly trusted me.
The shadows grew more and more distinct and I could soon make out the individual features, though there really wasn't that much to see under the dark cloaks. "What is it?" I grumbled to the Rider on my left. I didn't get an answer, instead he simply tossed me a pouch. His aim was clearly not good, but my reflexes were fast and I caught the pouch with ease. I wondered what I would find inside? Hopefully it would be food, I was starving, and by the sounds AgonZajar was making, she was hungry too.
I slowed AgonZajar down to a gliding speed, and turned the strange pouch over in my hands. I reached for the drawstring, and hesitated. What if this was some sort of test? Thinking it best to be cautious, I looked up at the riders and saw that they were still staring at me.
"Can I help you?" I spat at them, my voice laced with contempt. After a moment's pause they slipped away, disappearing into the smog without a trace, as if they were never there. Satisfied, I turned my attention back to the pouch.
I pulled the drawstrings open. My heart thudded in my chest. I slipped my hand inside and pulled out a map. It was made of heavy paper, the lines drawn in thick black pen, in the corner of it was a small note.
-Melkor
There has been news of the Ring. It was last spotted in the Shire.
The Ring is said to be traveling towards Rivendell. Find the Ring and bring it back to Mordor, it's home.
I almost dropped the note in shock. Eyes wide, I reread the note several times, still not believing what I was seeing. My heart still rattled in my chest, but there was excitement mixed in with the nervousness, once the reality of the situation had sunk in. With almost shaky hands I grabbed the note and the elaborate map and hastily stuffed them back into the pouch. It was all I could do to stop myself from leaving then and there, but I knew it would have been foolish to leave without supplies. Still, fueled by anticipation I pushed AgonZajar to her limits, desperate to get back and leave.
He was waiting for me when I touched down on the ground. I grumbled as I was forced back into the chamber of doom, again. He debriefed me on the mission, I am not allowed to reveal myself, unless absolute necessary. And, above all, I was to be patient. Though I should get the ring as quickly as possible, I was not to dash the mission with shoddy attempts at getting the ring. Though His words were dire, I couldn't wait to embark. My first real mission, I couldn't believe it.
I began gathering supplies immediately. Food for the first week, two scimitars, five elvish knives, my trusty bow and arrow, and a bed roll were all hastily thrown into the saddle bags. AgonZajar was tense too, her wings trembled in anticipation. We had been waiting for this our whole lives, the chance to prove ourselves. No one would be coming with me, not one other. This was my mission, and my mission alone.
As I stood on the uneven terrain, AgonZajar ready beside me, I felt a new feeling, a feeling I hadn't felt in years: pride. I had been chose for this job, and I was determined to be successful. I would not let Him down. So with a hardened glint in my eyes I slung one leg over AgonZajar, and even though I'd done it a million times, something felt different. There was a sense of finality to it all, and I knew that when I came back to my jagged home I would be stronger, tougher, changed. But in the meantime I would be restless. I would push myself to the very edges of my power, maybe even beyond, and I would not waver until that ring was in my possession.
I spurred AgonZajar and we were off. The wind whipped in my hair, and the sun shone through the smog. I was ready to reclaim my birthright. I was ready to take my place in His court. I was ready to become known to the world. I was ready to be Melkor.
I had been riding for what seemed like ages, the terrain below me didn't change much. There were either trees, hills or flat plains. Boring! My home was much more interesting, there were no two rocks alike, and each one told its own story. I was nearing the Great River, my journey was almost halfway over. Thank Mordor, I didn't know how much longer I could stand flying over the rather uninteresting landscape.
I was so lost in thought I didn't notice the darkening sky until a couple of fat raindrops dripped down my face. It was almost time to land anyway, so AgonZajar and I decided to tuck ourselves under a large oak tree for the night. By now the soft trickle of rain had turned into a downpour, and the leaves above did little to shield us from the torrent. AgonZajar's feeble attempt at a fire lay in a smoldering heap at our feet, the charred sticks giving off little wisps of smoke.
I slowly nodded of, curled up under AgonZajar's wing. She made a small flame, almost coal like, inside of her fireproof stomach. It warmed me, like sleeping next to a bed of embers. The stars shone through the rain just a little. And it comforted me to see the same stars I would back home. I fell asleep to the steady patter of rain on the leaves.
When I woke up in the morning, soaked to the bone, the rain was still coming down heavily. I (not so gently) shoved AgonZajar awake, and was rewarded with a nasty puff of smoke to the face, before she put her head back down and made a big show of closing her eyes. After blinking the burn out of my eyes, I decided to go find breakfast with or without AgonZajar. My rumbling stomach agreed with me, so I grabbed my scimitars out of my pack, which I had stowed under a large root for the night. Though I had plenty of food, I was itching to have some fun, to feel like my old self again, the one who was trusted to do His bidding. My hopeful mood soured a bit when I stepped out from under the shelter the tree provided and was met with a strong gust of wind, accompanied by an icy smattering of rain. I cast one last withering stare at AgonZajar, all warm and cozy, and then trudged away into the downpour, the muddy earth squishing beneath my feet.
When I found still fresh tracks of a caravan, I couldn't help but smile. Humans. This would be fun. As I slunk through the underbrush I heard the faint sounds of laughter and merriment. Well, that would soon be changed. I was closest to the outermost ring of the caravan, where a little girl was sitting in the grass making a crown of daisies. She couldn't have been a day older than five,and the way she giggled as she set the finished crown upon her head was almost sickening. A woman, presumably her mother, smiled at her. This would be the perfect weakness.
As soon as the woman turned her back on the girl, I surged forward, one arm heaving the girl up, the other darting for a scimitar. The girl yelped, but by the time people looked over I already had my scimitar pressed up against her fair neck, leaving a thin but bold line of red.
"Make one move, and the girl's a goner. Now, drop your weapons. Good, good, and lay down, all except you. Yes, you. Now, go get me all your provisions and make it quick, because I'm hungry," I spat, not batting an eye at all the gasps, and the terrified shrieks from the girl's mother. The young man who I had pointed at was now scrambling to gather all he could carry, his desperation was almost comical.
A sudden movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention, a man had a small knife drawn and was tensed, ready to spring. I goaded him on, letting him believe my attention was still on the man trying to balance baskets full of blankets and food. He was only about a leap away when I whirled around.
"Don't do anything stupid, now," I snarled at him, "I wouldn't want to hurt this precious little maiden, now would I." The man looked paralyzed for a moment, then he launched himself at me. I shook my head, I had forgotten how stupid humans could be, even orcs were smarter than this.
In one fluid stroke, my scimitar lashed out, slashing his potbelly in two. His blood lay thick on my blade, a delightful crimson. In a bored fashion, I turned the blade on the now wailing child, and, after pausing for effect, I sunk my scimitar into her neck, detaching her lovely little head from her still writhing body. A woman wailed, but I paid her no attention. Instead, my arm darted out to snatch a stunned youngling. Now it was his turn to have a scimitar pressed against his neck.
A stuttering voice made me look up from the boy's tender looking vein, just begging to be severed.
"Miss,...erh….Ma'am, here….here are the provisions you… um...asked for?"
"Wonderful," I responded, unceremoniously dropping the pale, shaking, toe rag of boy. He landed in a heap by the two mangled bodies and almost fainted. I couldn't help but chuckle. Oh, how I love to play with humans, so susceptible to fear and death.
I turned back to the man doubled over from all the provisions in his arms, and quickly took all the baskets with ease. I could feel the relief coming over the sorry travelers as I took stock of what they had given me. Satisfied, I turned to walk away, and paused. They should get a reward for their cooperation, and what better prize than one of my best knives? So before they knew what hit them, I'd pulled out my blade, whirled around, and thrown it, without dropping a single basket. I didn't even need to look to make sure it had found its mark in the younglings back. Sure enough, one second later, I heard a thud, the sound of a body hitting the earth, and mournful wail. Smirking, I walked away.
By the time I had returned to the tree the sky had cleared and the rain had stopped. AgonZajar yawned and looked at me with pleading eyes. Food? They begged.
"Get your own, I'm not in the mood to share. Sorry Zarry," I said. She gave me puppy dog eyes. I never cave though, I stuck to my word.
Grumbling, she trudged away, taking care to step in all the puddles, leaving me soaked. I smiled to myself, she would come around, like she always did. But in the meantime, I would sit down and enjoy my hard earned breakfast.