Yo.
A new story! And one that isn't about animals! This story is just a random thing that popped into my head, nothing big. But anyways, enjoy and review!
Disclaimer: I still DON'T own ANYTHING. Nothing belongs to me, except for my character, Fay Evargent. All works go to J.R.R. Tolkien himself.
Oh yeah, and the Witch-King of Angmar is going to be called Morgomir. Yes, I know, that's the name used for EA Games' Battle for Middle Earth II: Rise of the Witch King, but it's the only good name I could use for him. The other Witch-Kings are going to be Khamûl, who is the second most powerful under Morgomir. And the others don't exactly have names, because they have forgotten their names. They have been given unofficial names and titles: The Undying, The Tainted, The Dark Marshal, The Shadow Lord, The Betrayer, The Dwimmerlaik, and The Knight of Umbar.
And I decided to give Sauron a human body. Just because it's just downright easier than talking to a giant eye everyday.
Plus, all credit for the research I looked up on the Ringwraiths and other stuff that you will see goes to (just take out the spaces between the periods and the words in the URL, because won't allow me to write down the URL completely.) lotr . wikia . com - great website for research. ;D
~littledragoneyes
Chapter 1:
My hands were worn and tough from consistently and constantly working day to day, nonstop. I wiped away a trickle of sweat with my dirty, damp sleeve, pushing a great big load of freshly killed prey on a cart, trekking over to a pen, where the fell beasts waited for their lunch.
No, you haven't gotten a single thing wrong yet. Fell beasts? Yep.
Heat surrounded me, enveloping me and probably making me sweat enough to lose five pounds a day. That was me - skinny as a twig. I only have skin, bones, and muscles from working day to day. I have a mighty big appetite, eat another five pounds, but then the next day, boom, I sweat my butt off and I lose that five pounds. It's just annoying in a way.
Opening the pen, I closed it behind me, swearing under my breath. Why did Mordor have to be so hot? Why did her mother and father have to befriend Sauron? Heck, he was an eleven foot high, flaming eye. He was creepy and he never blinked.
Is that creepy or what?
Well, until he turned into an seven-foot tall man with long, glossy black hair and steely gray eyes, with a creepy smile, then it was better because he could actually blink. But no amount of wrestling him could get him a bloody nose. Damn Maia. He can't get hurt like mortals. He's not even human, really.
Though while he was seven feet tall, I stood about five feet and half. Which, I guess, is an okay height for a fourteen year old. I hate looking up at him. I hate his perfectly straight nose. I broke mine when I was nine, and it's always been a little crooked. And when I look up at him, I see his nose first. And it's too straight.
My name is Fay Evargent, and my life is damn stupid.
If not, tell me why my family and ancestors had to become friends and servants to the Dark Lord? Why did we have to live in Mordor, which, in average, is about ninety degrees everyday, due to the fact there is a giant, constantly erupting volcano where I live? Why did my ancestors have to even start our life in Mordor, and then when Sauron came around, we let him take Mordor? Why -
You know what, it would be easier if I just explain my life to you.
I whistled to the waiting fell beasts, who raised their gigantic, spiked and dangerous heads. Twenty heads sniffed the air, their black eyes lighting up when they smelled the scent of freshly killed animals. Letting out screeches of their own, I winced as the ground rumbled beneath me as each one stampeded across the fields and crouched before me, their mouths drooling with disgusting saliva and their eyes widened with glee and hunger.
I gave them all cheerful smiles.
Only eight years ago would I scream and dive behind my mother, Syrene, hiding behind her skirts, crying that they wanted to eat me. My mother would laugh and hand me a huge hunk of meat and tell me to approach one of them and give it to them to eat. It was their meal, she would tell me joyfully, and they did not want to eat us. Sauron forbade them.
Why?
Because we were his servants. We raised his terrible beasts for him. My mother did, at least. She had a way with various sorts of animals, loving all, terrible, horrifying, ugly, beautiful, or noble. She didn't care. She loved them all.
But she did have a particular interest for dark creatures, I do admit. So we were animal-raisers for the Dark Lord. My father, Darforth, was an engineer, inventor, and an architect all at the same time. He built crazy, incredible inventions and machines alongside with the old wizard Saruman, who was also allied with Sauron. Together, they built Orthanc, the towers of Isengard. Together, they were always behind locked doors, discussing and talking about new things they could create.
And together, my mother and I raised different animals for Sauron, like fell beasts, giant spiders, dragons, (that all died out) Wargs, Cave-trolls, Crebain, Watchers, Oliphaunts with the Haradrim, and of course, horses, cows, sheep, lamb, pigs, chicken, duck, geese, and various of other farm animals for food.
All for which was for Sauron.
That was my family. We were always here in Middle-Earth. Raising creatures and creating tall, crazy structures and inventing things were our specialty. Even before Mordor was taken over by Sauron, and his discovery of a single family living here and breeding creatures and inventing advanced things.
And that was when he decided to have us serve under him.
In return for various animals and inventions, he gave us a home. Shelter. Food. Water. Clothes. Protection against the world outside. The unknown lands that I've heard before, like Gondor, or Rohan, or Rivendell, where elves supposedly dwell. He told me all about it. Sauron's wish was to rule Middle-Earth, because he believed that the others were ruling it wrong. He believed he would help Middle-Earth to power.
Something about all that hullabaloo.
In fact, Sauron was a good man to my family.
Well, what was left of my family.
My father died only a few years ago, and then my mother died from a broken heart. Me? I was left with the burden of work. I had to make up for what Lord Sauron had given my family. I was in debt to him. Years of work lay ahead of me, years of debt left to pay.
Because Sauron was like a father to me after my parents died, I was in no doubt that I had to keep working in Mordor under his orders until the War of the Ring was over.
"Hey!" I yelled as a particular fell beast snapped his jaws at a prey, trying to get to one. "Wait your turn!" I snapped. He winced at the sharpness, and then decided he would wait as well.
"Good boy." I congratulated him, and then picking up a heavy piece of prey, I tossed it with all my might into the air and watched the fell beasts snap at it, snarling and growling as they fought off the scraps of meat.
"No fighting!" I scolded them all. "Like I said, wait your turn."
Really, I think fell beasts are very obedient when you scold them properly. I tossed the rest of them into the air, making sure each one got their fair share of food. And once I finished feeding them all, I exited the pen to leave them to eat the bones as well.
I tucked a single strand of blonde hair behind my ear. Well, not very blonde anymore. It's more dirty blonde. I haven't washed in a few weeks. I think I may today.
Stroding away from the fields and fields of various animals, I came to another fence, fencing the animals from escaping. Opening, and closing the door behind me, locking it so nothing could get through, I went back to the Tower of Barad-dûr. I lived there, in one of the guest rooms. Most Orcs treated me as their princess, calling me "Lady Faylyna" or "Lady Evargent" when I insisted them on calling me just "Fay". But they were...stupid...really, it was Lady this and Lady that. Polite and pleasant.
The only bad thing about Orcs were that they were horrible at making jokes. I made a suggestion to them asking if they could give me a joke or entertain me with something that didn't include blood or violence.
They just stared.
Orcs guarding the entrance of the Tower of Barad-dûr bowed low to me as I swept past them, into the dimly lit halls. It was my home, the place I've lived in for most of my life. My other house, the one that my ancestors have lived in for many years, was destroyed by accident when the Orcs first decided to inhabit Mordor.
Running up the steps of a tower, I couldn't wait to dive right into my bath, submerging into the depths of heated water and washing out my hair and the grime on my body. But water was rather scarce and used only a little for bath water. So baths were rare, only once a few weeks.
Mordor doesn't exactly have a great water supply, except for where the inland sea of Núrnen. The soil there was slightly bit more fertile because it was moist enough to carry the sea's water. And the ash blown from Mount Doom makes excellent soil for planting. Most of our food was grown there.
I entered my room and into the bathroom gratefully, and closed the door behind me. I called for my maid, Daerua, who filled the bath with hot water. One, two, three, four buckets of hot boiled water was poured into my bath and once she finished, I stripped out of my clothes and sank into heated bliss.
I let out a sigh and let myself drift into it, relaxing my tense and sore muscles. It felt good. I was lucky to be in Sauron's care. He was a good person to me. A good foster father.
At the age of ten, when my parents died, until now, fourteen, I had to trudge through the fields of animals, carrying buckets of pushing loads of food to every creature we bred. I had to help various mothers and children into the world and then, feed them and care for them and keep them warm. Then, after that, I would be able to relax. And sometimes on different days of the week, I would go to Saruman and take my father's spot of his intelligence and help him create new inventions.
My life...is dreadful.
But it's necessary.
I scrubbed the dirt and grime off of me with a bar of soap, watching the swirling water around me turn a interestingly shade of brown. I could tell how much I worked by the color of the water. The lighter the color, the less I worked, and then the next day I would have to work extra hours to make up. I've calculated the amount of work I had to do, for the rest of my life, and then, for my children, if I did have one.
And...seems like it's going to be hell for me and my descendants to come.
But the hopeful thing was that if Sauron was defeated in the War of the Ring, maybe I wouldn't have to work anymore. I was free to roam and travel and visit the great places I've heard of, like the cities of Minas Tirith, or Edoras of Rohan, or the beautiful valleys of Rivendell or the great forests of Mirkwood.
Then again, Sauron was powerful. Saruman, his puppet, was also powerful. We had strong allies. Like the Easterlings, or the Haradrim. They had great captains, like the Witch-Kings and we had strong Orc fighters. The Mouth of Sauron served as an excellent ambassador, and Gothmog is a fairly good lieutenant of Minas Morgul. Well, at least Gothmog was smarter than the rest of the Orcs. At least he could keep a good conversation with me during dinner for more than five minutes.
So maybe I wouldn't be released from my never-ending services.
Finishing my bath, I grabbed a clean white towel and dried my hair, which was currently blonde than dirty-blonde. My skin, thankfully, had turned to its original shade of fair skin.
If you look at Mordor and its people...most of them are a rotten shade of gray, black, brown, or some ugly color I don't know. Nobody had blonde hair and blue eyes like me. I felt a little out of place for the most part when overlooking Mordor. Nobody has cheerful colors on them. We all wear dark colors. I have only dark blues, dark reds, dark golds and greens and other dark colors in my wardrobe. I wear only black boots and black cloaks and black gloves.
A little odd to see blonde and blue in Mordor?
Yes.
I exited the bath with a towel around my body, shivering slightly from the lack of clothes. My maid, Daerua, rushed to my service, picking out a dress. I didn't bother to stop her. I've always told her to stop fussing over me, but she's won over the years.
This day she picked out a dark gold dress, decorated with intricate patterns of dark blue vines. "This ought to look nice with your hair," She said. "And maybe your eyes as well."
Oh, I must say: Daerua is not an Orc. She is any other normal lady, like me. I was most relieved when Sauron assigned her to her job of assisting me. I guess he must knew that I would feel strange with an Orc assisting me.
In fact, I don't even know if there are female Orcs.
Daerua made me step into the dress, and helpful and kind as she was, she tied the knots at my back tightly. I winced at the sudden constriction of air but did not complain. At least I tried not to. I have complained before, though. But she would scold me and tell me I am a "lady" and "ladies" are meant for to look beautiful. "Beautiful?" I echoed her a few years back. "How can you be beautiful with a waist four inches wide?"
She rolled her eyes. "Beauty means pain, Fay."
I smoothed the velvet fabric down. Once Daerua's back was turned, I could make a mad dash for the door so she wouldn't have to spend another half an hour creating elaborate hairdos that she knew.
My eyes darted to the closed door. If I could get to it...
"I locked the door as well. I have the key." She said, without looking around. "You should really learn how to sit still while I fix your hair."
Daerua turned around, her brown eyes glinting in amusement at my pouting form. "Oh, cheer up. Lord Sauron requests your presence at lunch soon." And then, one look at my slightly damp blonde hair and her face was of disgust.
"Your hair looks terrible."
She pulled out a chair in front of the mirror, beckoning me to sit down. "Come here, dear. You cannot go around Mordor looking like that! Much less Lord Sauron!"
I huffed. "Sure I can."
Daerua shook her head and dragged me over to the chair, plopping me down. "Stay." She instructed me, while she dug around the drawers of various jewerly and make-up items that I never would dare to bother with.
Reaching into the last drawer, she found my comb, lonely from the lack of use. "Aha."
Approaching my hair, she tackled it, but much to her disgust it came with tangles. "Dear child, do you ever comb your hair?" She tsked.
My gaze strayed to the fabric of my dress and I stared at it. "Um," I said awkwardly. "No."
Daerua shook her head, muttering something incoherent that sounded like "Good grief". I watched her in the mirror as her reflection wrestled with hair tangles.
Finally, when she finished combing through it, the blonde hair in the mirror did look better. At least not as messy. "There." She smiled. "Isn't that better?"
"No." I grumbled.
"Oh, please, Fay." She pulled back hair from the side of my head, into a traditional ponytail at the back of my head, letting the rest of my hair fall back over my shoulders. Hair that was to short to be pulled back decided to linger in my vision. I let out a puff of air, watching it fly gently with my breath and to land back on my face.
Daerua smiled at me in the mirror. "There," she said, tucking hair behind my ears. "Now you actually look presentable."
I shrugged. I didn't really care.
"Thank you," I told her warmly and left the room.
Though I hated her fussiness, Daerua served as an excellent mother. Kind and gentle as she was, Daerua cared for nothing but my health. She was no maid to me. She was my "mother".
I entered the halls, striding past Orcs on duty, guarding various doors. They all dipped their heads when they saw me. I returned with a nod.
The Orcs opened the door as I approached the dining hall. Sauron sat there already, a tall man with long black hair falling past his shoulders and cool silvery-gray eyes. He looked up when he saw me.
"My lord." I said and gave an awkward curtsy, cursing the shoes I wore. I'd give anything for boots right now.
Sauron smiled. "Please, sit and eat, child. You have worked hard today."
Don't I always?
I did so and began piling roast turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy on my plate. We were silent as we ate - he ate politely, using his fork and knife. Me? I was starving. My breakfast consisted of nothing but some bread as I was hurrying outside to feed the awaiting animals or else they would tear up Mordor for fresh meat. And we would not have Sauron to invite me to eat lunch with him. We would, instead, have a very unhappy Sauron.
Sauron first started the conversation, asking me to report on the animals.
"Perfectly healthy," I said proudly. "We also have a new litter of adorable Warg puppies." Then after afterthought, "They're very cute."
He raised his eyebrows. "And I will be counting on you to train them from being...cute and adorable...to fighters for Isengard and Saruman's defenses." He said, a little hesitant about hearing that they were "cute and adorable" from my mouth.
I sighed and nodded. I didn't really want them to be ferocious, snarling beasts like the mature Wargs. I thought they were good the way they were. No darkness has tainted their hearts just yet. All they've seen was...nothing. They haven't even opened their eyes yet.
Shoveling mashed potatoes in my mouth, Sauron continued. "May I ask you to do one thing for me?"
I grunted through a mouthful of food. He took that as a yes.
"There has been word of...a so-called Fellowship of the Ring." He said, his voice tight. I looked up. Uh-oh, he's not happy about this news he's talking about. "Morgomir has reported to me that some hobbit by the name of Frodo Baggins is carrying my One Ring."
I blinked. Has Morgomir, the Witch-King of Angmar, finally found the One Ring after years and years of searching?
Sauron's eyes became cold. "And apparently there are four other hobbits, by the names of Meriadoc Brandybuck, Peregrine Took, and Samwise Gamgee, traveling with him. And some unknown man, a Ranger from the North." He told me.
I nodded, and gestured him to keep going.
"And...Morgomir has stabbed Frodo, and weakened as he was, Frodo was taken to Rivendell, under the care of Lord Elrond."
I raised an eyebrow. "Morgomir couldn't capture a weakened hobbit by himself? Well, I'll be..."
"No, he did try, but the Ranger fought him off and then gave Frodo to Lady Arwen of Rivendell...who..." His slender, pale, long fingers curled into a fist as he gripped the goblet tightly. I stared at his hand, hoping it wouldn't break. "Who has escaped my captains and managed to soak them in the river."
I let out a bark of laughter. Morgomir and his men, getting caught up in a river's strong flow? And letting an elleth escape from under their noses as well? Now that is something worth seeing. I swallowed and stabbed at a piece of cooked venison. "And?" I persisted. "Now what can we do?"
Sauron frowned. "Word has also reached my ears...of the Fellowship of the Ring, as I have told you." His silvery-gray gaze was fixed on my cold blue ones, and he took a sip out of his goblet, which thankfully had not broke.
I cocked my head. "And who are they?"
"Nine men, and one lady."
I raised an eyebrow. "One lady? Nine men?" I let out a chuckle. "Against Mordor's forces?"
He gave me a small grin at my loyalty to him. "Yes. Four hobbits, one wizard, one elf, one dwarf, and two men. And one lady. Named Mary Sue, I have heard."
"Who the bloody hell is Mary Sue?"
"A Mary Sue, I presume, comes from a species called, ironically, Mary-Sue. They would be a person who is equally beautiful and talented and somehow is very perfect in every way or other." He said dully. I blinked, and frowned. "How is that possible? No person is perfect."
"And yet this Mary Sue lady is perfect, they say. Charming, intelligent, and utterly perfect."
I winced at that description. "Ew." I said.
Sauron smiled. "Precisely."
I sipped my drink. "So what are you going to do about it?" I asked. Sauron then gave me the creepy stare. Leaning on the table, he folded his hands together and gave me a penetrating look, locking onto my blue gaze. I tried to stare back at him without blinking.
"I want you to select the finest ten fell beasts you have, and give them to Morgomir and his men."
I shrugged. "Sure, I can do that...except...why ten? There are only nine Ringwraiths, my lord."
He smiled.
And I dreaded those next words.
"You will become one of them."
Alright, okay, this story may/may not be a little random...hopefully this story will turn out okay and not be tossed into the "Removed Work" section in my profile.
Hope you liked it. Don't forget to review, please! ;D
Cheers,
littledragoneyes