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The Black Easterling by Dawn-Of-Indescribable-Colors
Books » Lord of the Rings Rated: M, English, Romance & Fantasy, [Nazgul, Elf] Witch-King of Angmar, Words: 5k+, Favs: 77, Follows: 114, Published: Oct 13, 2013 Updated: Nov 23, 2014
54Chapter 4: Cherry Locks
Another ridiculously long wait, and for that, I apologize. However, I have received some wonderful support for this fic as of late, and it has inspired me to finish this chapter. I hope you enjoy it :) Listen to:
Space Enough To Grow - Of Mice & Men
Enjoy :)
Chapter Three
Cherry Locks
She was safe inside her cell.
Together, the words safe and cell made little sense, and yet she was beginning to see it that way. She'd woken sticky and stained with the dried blood of the Angmar vines, smelling faintly of its bitterness, and her body bore a sluggish weight.
Starvation must've finally caught up with her.
Struggling to her knees, she managed to crawl back to her customary corner, farthest from the bars, and thus, from sight. Idly, she wondered how the Witch King had reacted to her awkward display of weakness.
Would he finally deem her useless? Finally have the mercy, or at least have grown bored enough, to be rid of her at last? To let her find eternal sleep? The grace within had begun to fade, and if she could no longer uphold that promise, then she was through.
No Elf should ever be so ruined.
Armor rattled from the far end of the hall, and she felt her eyes squeeze shut. More pain would come, of course, before she could ever be free.
It was a Goblin that came to fetch her this time - something rare and unexpected - and she forced herself to rise before the filthy water could be used again. Thankfully, the creature did not touch her as they walked, merely patrolled lazily behind, making strange, grunting noises now and then.
She was expecting the Throne Room. Expecting some form of reckoning for her inadequate behavior.
But the Goblin steered her another direction, towards the halls of many regal, unused rooms. They climbed many a stair, passed many familiar doors, until she found herself hopelessly lost.
Where was she being taken?
At last, they stopped. Stopped before a tall, dark door, identical to the others beside it. She glanced backward at the Goblin, unsure. He only leered at her.
And then the door opened from within, with no one behind it.
She stepped inside, leaving the Goblin in her wake, and was no sooner closed in. The room was dark, the green glint from the window creating patterns on the marble floor. She knew someone was there with her. Something. But whatever it was must've hidden in plain sight.
She refused to feel afraid. Refused to even appear nervous. So she approached the mantle, beneath which a small, dying fire burned. Holding her hands out, she let the warmth seep into her skin as she waited for her host to reveal itself.
It was not hiding, after all. Only watching her. And when she turned her head a fraction to look back over her shoulder, she caught the creature's movement beside the window.
She should've realized. She should've known instantly that is was a Wraith with whom she shared her presence. But the sensation of dread had not presented itself, as it so evidently did with the Witch King.
And if was only when the Wraith stepped into the light that she recognized him.
It was that one.
The one that disturbed her the most.
She found herself swallowing a knot in her throat, shifting with discomfort before the hearth.
He said nothing, remaining still and silent where he towered in the corner - but she did not intend to ask why she was here. In fact, she did not intend to speak at all.
At last, he moved, taking a deft step toward her as if to reinforce his size. Instinctively, she stepped back.
What would he do to her? Had he been insulted by her display in the Throne Room? Did he mean to exact punishment?
She forced herself to stand taller.
Whatever he intended, it couldn't possibly be worse than what she'd already endured.
His voice was startling.
"What are you called?"
She stiffened, squaring her shoulders and clenching her fists. If he intended to interrogate her, she would be certain to be of as little use as possible. "I am nameless."
A strange sound emanated from beneath his hood - like a growl. "Even I am not nameless."
She bristled, "What do you want?"
There was another long silence, and a quiet storm made itself known just outside the window, wind brushing against the glass. Thunder rumbled somewhere far off.
"You are a Wood-Elf," he rasped, voice chilling. It was not a question.
"And how would you know this?" Despite her petulance, she regretted to acknowledge the slight inflection of respect in her tone. She was furious, but she wasn't stupid, and recognized that this creature could easily snap her neck with a good tug.
A dark rumble emitted from beneath the seemingly empty hood, and with a swiftness that made her gasp - if only slightly, he extended one of those metal clad hands and curled his fingers around a tangled lock of her hair. "This," he hissed, dragging it out towards himself before releasing it. "The color of blood."
He was right.
The cherry red locks of the Wood-Elves was something rare among their race, only she had not believed a Wraith would pay attention to such things.
They were men once, she reminded herself.
"What do you want from me?" she asked again, turning her head to the side. It looked as though she wished to see out the window, while really she wished to avoid the intensity of his empty, invisible gaze.
"You are an Elf," was his only response.
"Yes," she snapped.
The dip of his hood was the only indication that his gaze had moved, now likely focusing on her tattered and stained, once-beautiful gown. She almost wished to shy away.
Havens, what was his aim?
"If you have no intentions for me, my Lord, I shall dismiss myself," she said at last.
"I have none," he growled. "Only a curiosity."
"And what curiosity is that?"
"A curiosity as to why my King hides you away."
And with that, his dark robes swayed, billowing up like a black curtain as he turned and disappeared into the shadows of the room once more.
She struggled to ignore her own confusion as she quickly fled. Confusion meant caring, and she did not intend to care at all. In fact, she did not intend to think on these Wraiths.
She could not afford to.
But then that left only one other thing to think about.
And that was death.
THE BLACK EASTERLING TRAILER IS NOW AVAILABLE ON YOUTUBE. LINK IS ON MY PROFILE :)
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