Foundling

"Over the black fortress of Minas Morgul night opened his cloak,

Land multiply rolling rumble your lonely cry.

Knock your tired hand into the gate, read aloud "Ash Nazg!"

You won't be asked where you come from, eeleased and say – you are ours.

Morning air, like a burning potion, squeeze a tear ash,

When you see the expanse of middle-earth, standing on the tower of Evil.

And night on the earth will fall again,wiith the wind comes the storm,

Lightning breaks by lilac fire will dazzle the eyes.

When the Nazgul flies over the tower – eye-visible groan,

A rotten ground wake up from fear, listening to him through a dream.

Purple flashes cut through the clouds, teeth of his crown,

Riders without faces will rush shadow to the lights of the coast.

The King's sword is sharper than reason, stronger than will,

Team-howl over snow-covered field swims in twilight.

You can't hold back a cowardly shiver, no matter how brave you are,

And life seem suddenly not more expensive than quick death by arrows.

Your road is long and happy, there's more, but you from now

Is prisoner of the Morgul valley and disastrous beauty.

Let them laugh at the truth with us, people of green countries,

You have to go back to the Morgul — In a land where fear rules."

Halkar.

"Nazgul! And fear through the ranks like the wind"...

Nienna.

- Dad, where are we going?

- Hold on robust, baby, - advised Halkar, - not the going to fall off. And stop calling me dad.

"I've imposed on my neck. Only the kids in Minas Morgul were missing."

Already that day Halkar scolded himself for the most stupid thing imaginable. Why did he pick up this boy? "I didn't expect you to do that, old man."

The ravaged lands between Angmar and Arnor, through which lay his way, did not touch the Nazgul's heart. The war mercilessly burned the borderlands, leaving them no stone. Not a single living soul - only corpses and ashes. But once Halkar heard a baby crying. Pulled after all to stop! "Curiosity" — a Nazgul reassured himself, not wanting to admit such an indecent sense as pity. The child was half-dead from hunger and cold. Seeing the rider, he stopped crying, got up from the ground and happily stretches his little hands to the Witch-King of Angmar, whose name means deadly dismay to Middle-Earth. Halkar dismounted, took the boy in his arms, put him on the horse in front of him and rode on.

When they reached the first village, they had to stop — urgently needed warmth and food. The appearance of a terrible traveler scares people, only the innkeeper, trembling, treated the child with everything he could, were warmed by the fire and collected a huge bag of provisions on the road. Glancing askance at Halkar, he led them both to the gate, and looking after the black horse that carried its riders away, he whispered, "May the Gods keep your soul, child."

- Dad, - again dragged the boy. He began to dignify Halkar in the same inn. Until the end of his days old innkeeper remembered these two: the warrior, hiding the face under the hood of his cloak, from which came the force, alien to mortal people, and a skinny boy about seven years old. And only when dead come to him, he found the solution. Accidentally. In the open window of the room where the life slowly drained from the old man, he heard the voice of a minstrel singing a song about the Witch-King. "Nazgul, "flashed through the dying man's head," that's what it was!" The last thought suddenly surfaced in the fading consciousness: «How can a Nazgul have children?"

"Can" — confidently said the boy in response to a reasonable question of Halkar, who did not hide his name and... all else. However, to explain had for a long time. And that's when the boy seemed to understand everything and even a little scared, Halkar decided at once to do away with "dad". Ah-huh, three times. "How - can?"- outraged Nazgul. "Well, you're my dad, so I'm your child," followed by an extremely logical answer. Argue with that. Halkar wanted to pick the boy by the ears.

The boy got extremely clever and hardy. For all the time of mad jump Halkar not heard from him a word of complaint or discontent. Unless you count the obsession of vesting of rampant parental rights, it was fine. However, there was one more problem - questions. There were plenty of it.

- Dad, why are we hiding from the sun?

— We're not hiding.

- You scares it?

- I just don't like it.

A boy wondered. Then it dawned on him: «Take off your coat! It's black, you're hot».

— One more word and I'm not too lazy to return to the river in order to drown you, — said Halkar.

Anduin had long been left behind, and they were already entering the Morgul valley.

"Angmar's blood — brat is nothing afraid."

The boy talked a lot and willingly, but carefully avoided questions related to his past. Yes, from Angmar. Five winters remembers. Crying from despair, not from of fear - here is still. He didn't tell his name. And nothing else. "I don't remember!"

- Okay, If don't remember, don't remember. But how can I introduce you at home?

- Yeah, so we're going home. Where's home?

— Soon you will see.

Cemetery's beauty of the valley charmed a child. He opened his mouth and looked at the glades covered with unprecedented flowers, at the bridges and streams, at the fog hanging over it all. Putrid evaporation exuded a sweet smell of decay, and around grew out the needle images of frozen creatures, striking statues, nothing like which he could not even imagine. And here there fortress came.

— What is it? — spellbound whispered the boy.

- Minas Morgul. Our home. Now yours too.

- So I'm a Nazgul now?

- Yes, son, you're a Nazgul... - Halkar smiled.