Disclaimer: The only character I own here would be Mornaundumë, everything else was created by a mind greater than mine, namely JRR Tolkien.

Italics – Later on in the story are used for flashbacks

Summary: The Battle of the Pelennor was over, but the greater part of evil had by no means been vanquished along with it. As Aragorn and the Fellowship march bravely on toward the Black Gate of Mordor, and away in Cirith Ungol, a hobbit is held prisoner, the Black Land is again stirring for war. And as Mordor's sinister agents roam freely in the lands, Aragorn is about to discover a Mordorian unlike he's ever encountered before. A woman in service of Sauron, who may prove a far deadlier a foe to the Elessar than he would foresee.

Note: This is my first fanfic, so reviews would be very nice and helpful to me.

Enjoy!

Mornaundumë - the Mordorian Lass

By A Story-Teller

Chapter 1

Masked by a Great Shadow, dark figures could barely be glimpsed stalking through the haunted city of Minas Morgul, like ants. One such figure, taller than most, was departing from that city in great speed. The last lingering shadows of pale glowing green washed over her face as she sped away from her home. Her name was Mornaundumë and in Mordor, a land so dark and arrogant in its pride, a woman such as she was an exception that made orcs gape.

Mornaundumë's long sweeping black hair matched that of her steed, a snorting black pure thoroughbred stallion that was being pushed almost past his endurance. Now especially Time was of the essence, but in Mordor there never was enough of it, she thought angrily. Her temper, now that was both a weapon and a hindrance to her. Nowadays it seemed so barely below the surface so even a choice remark from a random orc was sometimes all that was needed for it to erupt. But while she was good at spilling the blood of a few orc scavengers now and then that made her lose her patience, her variety of words did not always go down well for her with the Top Ones. Her burnt and blackened hands that held the reins of her steed were proof of that. Not a single inch of her soft skin remained on her fingers or palms. That torture had taught her a lesson. Mornaundumë let out a ragged breath in a sigh. It had not always been so...

With Minas Morgul fading into the distance, Cirith Ungol still shrouded by early morning mist ahead, Mornaundumë allowed her mind to wander....

She had been entered into the service of the Land of Shadow as a girl, by whom she did not know. At first she had only been a light entertainment to the masters and captains of the land. As an accident, one day it happened that one such captain had found her displeasing. His sword had been within arm's reach of Mornaundumë and she took no more thought to it. She killed that man before he could even let fall the first blow.

Since then, her little skill with the blade was given the chance to improve when people in high places saw her wild cruel nature, perfect, for such a heartless land to control. Her status in Mordor quickly rose; orcs were given to her as she achieved the rank of captain herself, her own party of marauding orcs, with which she could order as she pleased. And in the first few years with this newly acquired band, Mornaundumë had benefited tremendously from the numerous successful pillages on disadvantaged orcish scavengers, wandering Gondorians and other similar bands of orcs they had ambushed along the way.

It was during those few, yet eventful and enlightening years, that Mornaundumë made herself known throughout the land. She was always moving, never stopping in one area for too long. Thus she learned the lay of her homeland so thoroughly that it was often remarked that she saw the world like from the eyes of an eagle, without the aid of a map she could navigate her way from place to place and not for once drift astray from a plotted course. She would not have had it any other way. In her heart, Mornaundumë was a natural traveller. The tired and often disgruntled orcs that she commandeered on her unrelentless wanderings moaned constantly about this ranger of a captain that led them. But since orc infantry are always needing to be replaced and the fact that Mornaundumë herself was creating a rather fierce reputation meant that any rebellious grumblings never led to anything that dramatic.

Always along her travels, Mornaundumë had more than orcs for company, her steed, an ill-tempered black stallion that matched her character precisely, was also made part of the band's entourage. The beast had originally come out of western country, a runaway, she was told, that had been broken in upon arrival in Mordor. There, at some rotting stables that held the little to nothing Mordorian cavalry, Mornaundumë had taken one look at the creature and taken a liking to the idea of having a renegade animal, with a story to tell, at the reins. To a girl, with the same little to nothing background, hidden past, the idea appealed to her very much. The horse had been reserved originally for some higher ranking captain, but the horse was never again to be later found and identified when the following dusk, the stables were found in disarray, orc blood on the ground, but bodies nowhere to be found. So the horse came into Mornaundumë's life and travels. It was her way of thinking was that the beast should learn the territory as well as she, and then decisive agreement and some sort of understanding could exist between the two.

Over the following passing years with her horse companion, Mornaundumë had visited all sorts of places, witnessed all kinds of brutality, and it had all been deeply imbedded in her psyche. So far gone now, was the timid human slave girl she used to be. She had grown up and made her enemies, things that no Mordorian officier is without. Her heart had grown black beyond measure, and killing was all she knew. As a woman, she had had to come to terms with the fact that forever she would be sneered down upon by her betters. Though she fiercely maintained a reputation as great as any male commander, the female captain would have to live with the sexist issues all her life. However, even important people couldn't dismiss her for long. When Mornaundumë had single-handedly tracked down and re-gained an escaped elf prisoner of Barad- Dúr, important people really had to sit up and take notice. She became a commander not long after, no less than of her residence in Mordor, Minas Morgul, the haunted citadel of the Ringwaiths. The Ringwaiths...now they were Top Ones that held considerable authority over practically every Mordor inhabitant, regardless of their status or rank....

Her horse's snort brought her out of her thoughts. They had arrived. Nimbly, Mornaundumë slid down from the saddle and tied the reins to an outcropping of stone. She did not pause, but strode briskly into the tower and garrison of Cirith Ungol. There to meet with some orcish captain.

As she passed under the archway, her eyebrows rose in disbelief. The hallway was littered with the filthy carcasses of orcs! Up ahead, she thought she could see one familiar orc standing amongst the dead, no doubt raiding fallen comrades. Mornaundumë's temper rose and with difficulty she subdued it.

'Captain Shagrat! I have come in answer to your report. But please, do tell why I arrive to find Ungol in such a state...'

The orc captain Shagrat stiffened as he heard that voice, cold and heartless it was. His crooked legs trembled as he turned round to address his senior officer.

'Ah, M'lady Mornaundumë, well, as to why Cirith Ungol receives you in such welcome, well I...I mean to say...the lads....'

Mornaundumë sneered down at the orc captain, the distaste evident in her face.

'Never mind officer, to business. Lugbúrz will not be apleased, Shagrat, if the reports sent to me are true and the halfling prisoner has escaped. '

The orc Shagrat pursed his lips, scratched a wart on his thigh.

'Neither will them Nazgûl be pleased, m'lady, but what's to be done about that? My lads have landed us right in the thick of it this time. It was this pretty coat of the prisoner's that done it, see? As soon as they saw that silver the swords just came slinging out and...'

"Excuses captain. Lugbúrz is not one to accept them neither.'

Mornaundumë's thick black travelling cloak rippled around her feet as she began to pace up and down.

'What we need, is a detachment patrol right away. This prisoner must be hunted down, he must not escape. Your lads, captain, have you any of them to spare?'

Now the orc was in a dilemma, dull eyes opened in shock and words came stuttering out in a babble. Mornaundumë held up a hand for silence.

'I think I get it, so, your lads when they saw this silver and the swords just came slinging out they knocked a few heads off didn't they? And it wasn't just a few as it turned out in the end was it? Honestly, you orcs are filth beyond any of us...'