I am munching on a pear and apricot Danish as I write this… at one in the morning… Mmmm such deliciousness! How am I eating a Danish at one in the morning? I'll let that eat at you as I leave you wondering ;)

So, my wonderful readers, I am still suffering from the case of continually having my mind blown by you people. Seriously, the last thing I expected was the readership I am getting, and in the two weekends I have started/updated this story, well, the readership skyrockets.

So here is the next (and much longer) chapter of His Corrupted Mind, containing the official introduction of our OC and more of the awesomeness of the Witch-King! Also part one of two into the official movie plot!

Chapter III: A Fateful Encounter

"Each meeting occurs at the precise moment for which it was meant." –Nadia Scrieva

Second Age, 3017

A rider approached Osgiliath, someone the city had not seen in many centuries. The rider was astride a horse that seemed to be a cross between a draft and a light warhorse, and the closer the rider came the horse could be seen as colored a steel-grey. Its rider, much smaller in comparison, became clearer as well. A woman of wild white hair, fine of features, and dressed in the furs of the north. Upon her back was a rough-hewn bow, its condition showing its use and care, at her hip a long whip, its tip barbed and finally a blade of northern make, also secured at her waist. Once the odd rider passed through the entrance to the city she smiled.

Inconnu Naeril was home once again, if only for the day.

As she rode through the city, making her way to a specific place, Inconnu casually observed it all. She noted the old things, the new things, the men, the women, the children and all the interactions. Though its people dressed differently, people coming and leaving, the new replacing the old, Osgiliath had not changed much. This was something that Inconnu found some comfort in. It was a thing that was a rarity in the recent century. However, there was one thing Inconnu noticed a she rode through the streets. Fear was more present than it had been the last time she was here.

Minas Morgul, formerly Minas Ithil, was the source of that fear. Ever since the fortress had been taken over by the Witch-King, the eldest of the Nazgûl, darkness had since become stronger and rumors came of terrible dark magic within its walls. Without a doubt, Minas Morgul has also been a source of tragedy for King Eärnur I of Gondor had met his end there. Death had come to him through the treachery and power of the Witch-King, revenge for his defeat at Angmar.

Inconnu's smile turned more sorrowful. The fear was oppressive not only here, but in other cities and kingdoms as well. A half-hearted façade of happiness was what she had been witnessing for a while now, especially in the places closest to the darkness of Mordor. But that did not mean that there was no hope left in Middle Earth, for kingdoms such as Erebor and Dale have rebuilt and begun to thrive again after the fall of Smaug, the last true dragon of Middle Earth. A more cheerful smile, though faint, returned to Inconnu's features.

Soon, Inconnu arrived at her intended destination. She dismounted from Sverundr, patting the stallion affectionately before walking into the graveyard before her. It was time to visit her mother.

Minas Morgul

The Witch-King rode between the ranks of orcs, his hidden gaze moving between them in harsh inspection. They were a new orc tribe come from Mordor and his master had commanded him to use them to take the city of Osgiliath. Like any seasoned commander working with fresh troops, the Witch-King had reasonable doubts about this new orc tribe, but kept them silent. He would not go against his master's will.

Despite their lack of experience in true warfare, the orcs were certainly well experienced in carnage and in this coming battle that should be more than enough to capture and utterly destroy Osgiliath. In this victory, Gondor would lose a strategical advantage and become weak from attack from both Mordor and, in a few months' time, from the Corsair ships that would come up the Pelargir.

Once the Witch-King was satisfied with what he saw, he whirled his dark horse to face the west and gave the order to march.

Osgiliath

Inconnu was on one knee before her mother's grave, the headstone showing its weathered age. However it had been well-kept and so it looked not as worn-down as many of the others. Then, she began the ritual she began long ago, something to make up for all the centuries between visits: she began to talk to her mother as if she was actually there.

"I've come home again mother. I know, it's been a very long time since my last visit, but at least I'm here now." Inconnu laughed faintly at her own words before continuing. "I've been doing well, spending most of my time wandering the northern regions of the Misty Mountains. Goblins have been increasing in number, hiding deep within the mountains. Nasty little creatures. Trolls too, farther south than they ever had been before." She cleared her throat.

"I've been doing good deeds mother, doing what I can to keep the evil at bay in the north. It has helped keep the need to hunt satisfied. The people are kept happy, their worries simple things. No shadow threatening to overtake them. It's peaceful, something this city dearly needs…"

Inconnu trailed off, losing herself in her thoughts, her eyes looking at the grave yet not at the same time. She was like this for several minutes before she then said is a soft whisper, "'Forgive me for the fate you must bear.' Why mother, would your last words to me be those ones? What fate have I that is so terrible that you could not tell me? Why-" She held back a choke. "Why didn't you tell me that you loved me?"

"Orcs! Orcs at the eastern wall!"

Outskirts of Osgiliath

The Witch-King looked on as the orcs just simply slaughtered the defenders of Osgiliath, the bodies growing by the minute. For the destruction of the men, the Lord of Carrion was satisfied with the orc tribe, and though their lack of control was not unexpected it still left him rather… dissatisfied. But they could be taught that under harsh instruction, and they would learn rather quickly. The Witch-King then signaled to his brethren and together they entered the city itself.

"Nazgûl!" Shouted a ranger, his bow raised, armed, and the arrow released in a smooth, practiced motion. It whistled through the air, its destination for the Witch-King as charged into the fray. However the Witch-King was faster, his longsword drawn and flicking the arrow out of the air in a movement that could barely be seen by mortal eyes. The ranger had vanished when the Witch-king looked for him next, but did not think much of it as there were plenty of men who thought to try and challenge him.

Their honor and dedication to the defense of Osgiliath was to be commended, but in the end it was utterly futile. They had no hope in fending off the Nine, especially after the initial onslaught delivered by the orcs. The Nazgûl then scattered, slaying all who dared to come up with the courage to face them, and soon the brave men dwindled to the few who lived to make the sound of retreat. It was then that the Witch-King felt a sensation he had not felt for many centuries. A pull he had not felt since the conquering of what was now Minas Morgul.

Now he was in Osgiliath, the place where he had determined to be the source of that feeling long ago, and this time he followed where it led.

Graveyard of Osgiliath

At the cry of alarm, Inconnu was instantly to her feet and running to Sverundr. Her senses changed, an old magic activating deep within her. Falling into the behaviors of a hunter, Inconnu felt the thrill of the hunt and a true grin flashed across her features as she swung into the saddle and took the reins. Sverundr, well-versed in his rider's changes and habits, obeyed easily and charged into the conflict not far from them.

Inconnu unslung her bow and notched an arrow at the sign of the first few orcs, and in a single breath and perfected sense of timing, released the arrow. It flew true and struck the first orc dead, and from there had the attention of the rest of them. Her bow once again slung over her shoulder, she drew her sword, its blade gleaming in the sunlight, and engaged the orcs alongside the guards of Osgiliath.

The men looked to her in shock, but felt relief at her aid and with renewed strength struck down the orcs. However, they only managed to hold off another group of orcs before they were forced to retreat. A mounted ranger soon joined them and addressed Inconnu directly with, "Who might you be stranger?"

Inconnu grimaced faintly at the word 'stranger', but replied, "A native of this city, returning though not for long." She glanced back at the carnage and the bodies, both of men and orc. "It seems this will cut my visit even shorter."

"Indeed," The ranger smiled faintly at her light take of the situation, but grew serious just as quickly. "How fast is your horse?"

A fierce glint shone in her silvery-grey eyes. "There has not been a horse yet to outrace him." Sverundr snorted in agreement.

"Could you race to Minas Tirith and warn them of the loss of Osgiliath? We will not be able to hold off the Morgul host for much longer-"

"Nazgûl!" Came the cry and overcame the ranger's words, whose eyes had widened at the news.

"Now we stand no chance at holding the city for as long as I thought we would be able to, tell me, can you ride for Minas Tirith?!"

Inconnu sharply nodded, and the ranger quickly said, "Then ride, and tell the guards that Faramir son of Denethor has sent you!" before riding off to where the call was made. Inconnu then turned Sverundr away from the sounds of the main host and set a full pace to the nearest exit of Osgiliath. A tempted as the inner hunter of Inconnu was, she did not give in and rode past the smaller fights, determined to keep her word to warn Minas Tirith. It was then that she and Sverundr nearly crashed into another rider, one who was a dark blur initially. When she swerved and Sverundr was left dancing around the other horse, she looked at the rider. Inconnu had expected to see another ranger or perhaps a guard of the city.

Instead, she was face-to-face with a rider dressed in robes of black, and whose head was shrouded in the darkness of a deep hood.

Time seemed to slow down for the two riders, their mounts moving around in a circle as they got a good look at the other. For a single moment, Inconnu saw something other than the hooded rider, but a pale man who looked to be emaciated with a tall crown of iron upon his brow. It was a ghostly image, a being not fully of the physical plane, but there all the same. Hidden in plain sight. Then the gaunt look faded and she saw a man of black hair and lordly features, this time seeming as to be more tangible, but still just a wavering image over the physical form of the black rider. Inconnu was left stunned at the things she was seeing, wondering what this experience was and what it could possibly mean. The surprise and wonder was then quickly gone when her mind finally processed the rider opposite her.

Nazgûl!

The spell upon them both broke and Inconnu ran Sverundr to where the western edge of Osgiliath lied, not so eager to engage the wraith in combat. With a quick glance behind her she saw that the Nazgûl had followed her, driving his dark horse faster in order to catch her. Inconnu smirked. She doubted that even one of the Nine would even be able to keep pace with Sverundr, much less outrun him.

The riders commenced a chase through the destruction of the city, dodging obstructions of collapsed pillars and those of free-falling stone and other debris. The Nazgûl continued his pursuit, at times even gaining some distance, but Inconnu would make maneuvers that even the dark rider would not dare try. When the edge of the city was in sight, Inconnu had Sverundr make one last sharp turn, hoping to fully throw the Nazgûl off her tail, and let Sverundr run at his full speed with free reign.

Inconnu felt the climaxing tension, could sense the wraith still chasing after her but she dared not to look back. She took a deep breath in and exhaled slowly to better pace her heart when Sverundr finally crossed into the Pelennor Fields, the flat grassland that lay between Osgiliath and Minas Tirith. It was now that she looked back, in time to see the Nazgûl whirl away from the edge of the city, turning away from his pursuit of her. Inconnu then smiled grimly, happy that she had escaped the Nazgûl, but grim in the news she must now deliver to the Steward of Gondor, Denethor the Second.

Still don't own LOTR or the Witch-King, but I do own Inconnu!

P.S. How many of you initially thought that the ranger was Aragorn/Strider for a split second? XD