(AN: Well, because i don't have enough to do [said in sarcasm], i've decided to go back to Arda and tell another story about the Second Age. If this goes over well, it might end up as a series about the Ringwraiths and Arnor and such. Who knows? Anyhow, ever since high school I always wanted to tell the story of the Ringwraiths, and seeing as how there are so few good Lord of the Rings fics on here, the time has now come.)

(This story is based on several sources. First and foremost, of course, is Tolkien's Lord of the Rings, then the Middle Earth Role-Playing Game [for the character and back-story of the main character]: both of which are properties of their own respective owners and not me. The films are mostly for visual reference, as i HATED the whole "Nazgul tomb" from The Hobbit movies and consider most, if not all, of The Hobbit film trilogy to be apocrypha [as opposed to The Hobbit book, which is canon].)

Arrival

The Haven of Umbar had long been a great and important port for the Kingdom of Numenor. It sat upon the smallest of three peninsulas that stretched westward from the Glinfalas, at the very crook where they were thrust out from the mainland. Though still in its infancy and having not reached the fullness of its might, the haven was indeed a wonder for all to see, from the Red Cliffs far to the northwest as well as those approaching it from the bay and Maros. Like a great wheel it sat between the two sides of the bay, with a great outer wall of black stone, standing in stark contrast to the white sands to the south, north and east of the city. Behind the black outer wall, the city arose in all of its youthful beauty and splendor. Its houses, palaces, towers, minarets and halls were still white and the black banner of the Star of Numenor still flew proudly from its battlements.

From out of the west, out of the sea, came a fleet of ships with black sails, ridden forth from that very island kingdom. Twenty ships there were, a pittance of the naval might of the Sea-Kings of Numenor. But this was not the High King come to war with the Haradrim of the desert, or the dog-folk of Waw in their mountain halls in the north. This was the coming of a new vassal into a fief, and twenty ships was more than enough for the claiming of an inheritance. Yea, such a great host would seem overmuch for a simple vassal, even a great one at that. But the lord who was about to set foot on the eastern shores was of noble birth, and even for a prince or the second cousin of a king, such a host was more than necessary.

The lord in question was, in fact, a lady. Numeniel was her name after the Elvish fashion, though she was one of those nobles who took up the name King's Men. Therefore she bore a name, not in the Elvish, but in her native Adunaic tongue, the language of Westernesse and of secret rebellion against the Eldar. Adunaphel was her name in that tongue and she was tall and fair. Easily as tall as any man, she was slender and fair-skinned, with dark hair, almost as black as that of the Dark Prince Er-Murazor, second son of Tar-Ciryatan, High King of Westernesse, and eyes as grey as the sea. She stood upon the bow of the largest ship, gazing out at the wonder opening up before her eyes, the great haven of Umbar. Fair were the silver-white halls of her family in Forostar and Orrostar, the northern and eastern spires of her island home, and the Palace of the King in Armenelos and the Great Northern Watchtower in Forostar were the fairest and most noble of all the halls she had seen. Yet here, gazing upon this pale white city, she thought she saw a great queen seated in power and splendor, with the black outer wall as her circlet. For so seemed the great city, even in its youth.

"A queen you appear to me," she spoke upon seeing the glory of the haven: her voice was fair, pleasing to the ear and authoritative. "But as a king shall I rule you. And you shall be great."

Adunaphel was not the first man or woman of Westernesse to set sail to Middle Earth with the desire to rule, nor would she be the last. Centuries ago, the first men came to these lands from over the sea, as friends and protectors of the lesser peoples, the Men of Darkness. They taught them letters, crafts according to their wisdom and ability, and educated them against the foul teachings that had ensnared them. They left many cities and ports from as far north as Eriador to here in the south, where the stars were strange and winter never came as more than a chill breeze.

But those days were long gone. A darkness had fallen upon the Isle of Numenor and its people. Long had there been friendship between the Eldar and the Edain, the Men of Westernesse, but that friendship now was growing strained. The Eldar lived and prospered and continued in their youth, strength and vigor, while the Edain grew old, withered, took ill and, in the end, died. Though they lived many hundreds of years, they could not outrun death; and the shadow of death now hung over the hearts and minds of the Men of Numenor. Glory they sought, to make for themselves a mark by which all would remember them and sing their praises even long after they were dead and gone.

As conquerors they came back to Middle Earth, and so it was for Adunaphel daughter of Adunahil. For a conqueror she came with a host of two thousand men aboard her ships, to rule this land as a vassal of the High King, but as a lord and king in her own right.

The lord's flagship came to berth at the Vinendili, on the northwestern shore of the bay. This was a wharf for the ships of Numenor's naval and armed forces. Once the moorings were cast and the huge black sails brought in, the sailors on-board the flagship lowered the wooden ramp that would allow the crew and their lord to disembark. First there came a cadre of the lord Adunaphel's personal guards, all of them clad in hauberks of steel rings beneath their black livery, with steel caps damasked with lofty sea-bird wings on both temples. Each of them bore a sword and a knife in sheaths upon their belts, and resting upon their shoulders were great-swords easily as long as these Dunedain were tall. They disembarked in two long rows, ten men to each row. Once these had disembarked, another company of twenty guards left the ship: at the head of this group was the lord in question. She was clad as they were, though the livery she wore was embroidered with silver, and had, upon the breast, a silver star. Once her boots touched the stone wharf, a delegation from the Vinendili arrived to greet her company. At its head was a dignified looking steward in gray robes, with a white staff in his hands whose head-stone was made of gold.

"Welcome to Umbar, my lady," the steward greeted warmly, bowing as was the custom.

"My lord will do," Adunaphel replied. "I've come here to rule."

"Ah, yes, a noble goal, my la...my lord," the steward corrected himself. "Many have come to the shores of Endor to make their fortunes."

"There will be time for pleasantries later, lord steward," Adunaphel stated. "My men will be landing shortly and they will need lodgings until I have come into my own. I have twenty ships under my command with four hundred sailors; they will remain at berth here in the harbor for the time being."

"At once, my lord," the steward bowed and left.

It took at least four hours for all twenty of the ships to disembark and unload their passengers and cargo. The flagship took the longest, for Adunaphel had brought along quite a great number of personal effects and had her servants and attendants, who numbered forty, unload them all and bring them to her apartment. There were also supplies enough for her little host, most of which had survived the seven day voyage across the Great Sea from Numenor to Umbar. These would have to be unloaded as well, for her army needed supplies in order to march.

After the four hours had passed, Adunaphel retired to her apartment with the captain of her personal guards, a man whom she called Abrazir, though his Elvish name was Arthdir. He had been sworn into her household as a sword-thain when she was fifty and had served her faithfully ever since, rising up to become captain of her guard. Of all those in her service, his counsel she was wont to heed in difficult matters, though these were few and Captain Abrazir was humbled when she deigned to seek his advice in matters.

The two old friends sat upon ebony chairs inside the stone room, and looked at a map of the coast-line of Umbar that lay upon the table before them.

"Something on your mind, my lord?" Abrazir asked.

"There are far too many blank spaces on the maps here in Umbar," Adunaphel noted, examining the map. "Eastward into Far Harad, there's little report of anything but desert sands."

"The Dunedain never went too far inland, my lord," Abrazir explained. "There are few rivers south of the Harnen wide enough for our ships."

"Hmm," Adunaphel mused. "Word back in Numenor was that the lands of the Haradrim were rich, that the swarthy Southrons wore gold as if it were cloth."

"I certainly saw a fair bit of gold in the merchant stalls in the city while we were unloading our ships," said Abrazir. "Perhaps those rumors have some merit in them?"

"Perhaps," Adunaphel nodded. "But for the moment, I believe we should not stray far from the coast. According to the map..." She pointed towards a point on the map northwest of the Haven of Umbar. "...there's a fertile stretch of coast-land in this region here, called by the locals the Blood Fells."

"We'll be able to have a little portage of our own," Abrazir added. "Our little fleet will be able to provide assistance if we need them."

"Indeed," Adunaphel stated. "I'll have the captains of my men prepare to march north and west tomorrow at first light. You, on the other hand, I want to go throughout the city. Find me an interpreter who can speak the languages of the Haradrim, as well as one who has some knowledge of the surrounding area. We will need to know the people we are about to rule, shall we not?"

"A wise course, my lord," Abrazir nodded. He then rose from his chair and left her quarters.

Adunaphel was warmed by the approval of her captain, as a friend by the sagely advice of another. Though she was master of her own counsel and, being highborn and possessed with the same restless and headstrong spirit as befell all the Dunedain in the days of their strength, brokered not the approval of others, she was fond of Abrazir. That he found her choice of actions to be wise was to her liking. After he left and the door closed upon his departure, she continued to look at the map of the coastal land of Umbar.

"Adunaphel, King of Vamag," she muttered to herself, gazing at the 'Blood Fells'. The title was to her liking. As a king she had come to Middle Earth from out of the West, and as a king would she rule.

(AN: I hope my opening author's note didn't turn you off too much. I'm surprised to hear that there are actually those who liked The Hobbit movies. Even after a second viewing, my opinion has changed little. In lieu of a lengthy diatribe against that, I will leave you with this beginning chapter and the hope of improvement in the future chapters to come.)

(Since i've brought my Elder Scrolls series to a decent resting point, i can forge ahead with this story. As far as what to expect, i'll try not to make this character as much of a "mary sue" as i feel, in retrospect, Nenwe was in Last Alliance [which sucks because i wanted to improve her and use her again as a kind of tertiary narrator during the events of the War against Angmar and the northern campaign of the War of the Ring]. However, as this is a story of the Dunedain in their might, they will be rather awesome. I hope that you can bear with me in this regard.)