Author's Note:

Hey all! Let me say that I am not a popular author at all, especially in terms of LotR, so I ask you please to be really gentle.

Although I hate to admit it, no, I don't own Tolkien or any of his characters… *sigh*

This fic is actually dedicated to my Middle-Earth biography, so it is an autobiography that includes my friends as well as me. I hope you will be interested as to how my Dúnedain-become-Nazgûl tragedy destroyed much of the hope in Middle-Earth! MWAHAHAHA *Evil cackle*

Watch your back, insignificant Humans! (Kidding… kidding!)

Fëaruin Urulókë

Story Specifics: Consider this an AU: In this fic King Eärnur DID decide to take a wife, and so they are my parents in this fic. However, though it is because King Eärnur was childless in the books that the stewards were appointed to govern Gondor, and Elessar was crowned King in the end. But not to worry! I never made it to the throne. I'm just the child of a King *sighs dreamily* …Yeah, I wish.

IMPORTANT NOTE: All the poetry in this story, unless otherwise specified, was written by me! So it may not be very good… though I will be quite flattered if you accuse me of copying the works of a professional writer. You needn't worry though if you're not a poetry fan, there's only the majority in this one chapter. Au revoir! (No, I'm not French… hmmm.)

The Tale of Fëagurth

In the realm of Men, a city White, a tower tall and fair,

There once would sing a maiden pale upon the flaxen stair;

So proud she stood, a silver circlet donned upon her head,

Where underneath the sunlight shone her hair dark auburn red.

But not now more. For hard she toiled with very scarce a host

And rode she into shadow without fear where she was lost.

Where lies she now, the maiden pale, with white sword at her side?

Yet none may know for years if she has lived or she had died.

Where lie you, Fëaruin? Faithful heir of Eärnur?

The days are dark, so dark and grim… and the City shines no more.

~~~ Fëaruin's POV~~~

It has been… many years.

Yes. It has been far too long now… thousands of years? Or a thousand years? How could I remember how much time has passed when I wasn't even myself to encounter it?

Many years has it been since anything occurred that has changed who I am today to what I was that so many loathed. Yet now I have regained that original identity… to no avail. The question now really is who am I in truth? I am Fëaruin Urulókë, the loyal, fiery-hearted daughter of the thirty-third King of Gondor. I am brave, valiant, respected and wonderful!

…Or am I?

No… I am not. I am Fëagurth Durlach, second to Morauko the evil ruler of the Ringwraiths, the Queen I love and serve. And thus she has crowned me her second, the Nazgûl Princess. From the cheerful and loving daughter of mighty Eärnur, seated nigh the throne of my Mother and Father whom I love exceedingly, I now shelter in the lair of the giant spider Shelob, crying myself to sleep in the warmth of the only one that has been brave enough to bear me on his back and sacrifice everything to shield me from the war- my stallion.

How had it ever come to this?

*****

In a realm so dark, a city Black, a Tower tall and fell,

There once would wail, unknown to Men, a Princess terrible;

So proud she stands, a black cloak overcast her unseen head,

Where underneath a mask was worn so faceless like the dead.

A servant she of Sauron Lord, corrupted by a ring,

And now she cries so shrill and cold, and no more can she sing.

But where lies now the maiden pale with bow against the sky?

Mayhaps now dead, or mayhaps lives. Yet where then would she fly?

Where lie you, Fëaruin, Eärnur King's only child?

For to the Lady Dark so many lie dead or beguiled.

*****

At the beginning of the third age, Prince Arvedui- who became the last King of the lost realm of Arnor- had married fair and beautiful Fíriel, daughter of Ondoher from Gondor, who had been the last King before my father Eärnur. Together they had two merry children- Aranarth their son, and Kalómë their daughter.

However, their family did not long remain blissful. For only a while had passed when Arnor was destroyed, and the two heirs of Arnor were lost. Although known to only few at the time, not lost completely. And nobody ever knew what role had Kalómë in the suffering and grief of the times that had not yet come to pass… but I know now, for sure. And even so I long to see Kalómë now, because of the respect I had for her, and I love and miss her greatly as a friend.

The next year, my father had brought a fleet to Lindon, defeating the Witch-King at the battle of Fornost, who returned to Mordor. When several years had passed the Nazgûl, whom the Witch-King had gathered, besieged Minas Ithil… the home of some of the Dúnedain, specifically in this tale the home of a lady named Ellasil and her young son Ninrusco. A fair-hearted mortal woman was she with an innocent five-year-old boy, whose husband had passed away during that battle.

Meanwhile, Eärnur my father fought against the Nazgûl that had conquered Minas Ithil, and that year of the fall of Minas Ithil which was afterwards known as Minas Morgul my father found Ellasil and Ninrusco, and perceiving their sorrow and grief pity swept through his heart. Thus he took them back with him to Minas Tirith, hoping their woeful hymns would be forgotten.

Many years later, bliss came to Ellasil and Ninrusco, and they indeed left behind their songs of grief, which pleased my father greatly. He and Ellasil fell in love and married, accepting with much love Ninrusco who had grown strong and brave in the fighting arts, a valiant stepson to him.

It was that year that when young Ninrusco's skills rose in the means of a warrior that I was born.

~~~End Fëaruin's POV~~~

In Middle-Earth, a country green in Arda rich and vast,

There still would fly through tainted air the Shadow of the Past;

So proud she'd stand, the Spirit Cruel whose name is fell and feared,

Fëagurth, Princess of the Dead, by evil pure revered.

And Durlach she is, Shadow of the Spirit of the Flame

That flickers still; but to what was would never be the same.

Here lies she now, the maiden pale, with dagger in her hand,

The sister of the Ringwraiths whose cold cry none could withstand.

O Fëaruin ashen! Daughter of Eärnur King,

Fëagurth black you are now… and nevermore shall you sing.

To be continued…