Sorry this one's a little short. I had to cut it where I did for the sake of plot/dramatic tension. I like to keep my chapter uniform but sometimes it just don't work that way. This is just one scene and one that's pretty self explanatory so, without further ado...

Chapter 4

The Lord of the Nazgul clenched his hands in frustration. Since the initial audience, Morwena had stayed shut up in his rooms as there was no possible reason for her to go out. That would not do at all. He was more desperate than ever to go through with his plan after the horrible spectacle Clarice had made during the audience. But Morwena needed to be seen and admired for his plan to work.

And, in only a few days, a group of chieftains from Harad would be arriving for a great banquet and a council of war. With his luck, Sauron would give her away to one of them and then she would be gone, out of his reach forever, and all his hopes of using her to influence people and unseat Clarice would be ruined. Immediate action was called for.

Rounding suddenly on the Nazgul, who had stood patiently behind him while he paced the floor in agitation, he commanded hoarsely to fetch Morwena. As soon as his servant was gone, he seated himself at his desk and took up his pen, made from a length of curved bone. "My most exulted Lord and Master," he wrote, "I have been thinking upon your words and I am in total agreement that I have taken far too long about fulfilling your orders to crush the elves. Therefore, I most humbly entreat your permission to depart from court as soon as possible, even before the banquet for the ambassadors of Harad if may be, so that I may the sooner put my troops in readiness to do your bidding." He rather doubted Sauron would give him permission to miss the banquet and was actually hoping he would not. The contents of the letter were not important, only the delivery.

Morwena came hastening into the room and made a deep curtsy in front of him. "What is it you wish, my Lord?" she asked.

"Take this letter to my Lord Sauron."

Her eyes went wide. "I, my Lord? But why? Have you no more illustrious servants to send?"

"Do not question me," he thundered. "My other servants have better uses than running about the innards of Barad Dur with messages. You were commanded to make yourself useful, so do as I bid. My Lord's rooms are at the top of the high tower, if you lose your way, a servant can show you. But do not trust the letter to any other. You must report to me that you have seen it in his hand."

"Aye, my Lord." Morwena curtsied again and backed out of the room, clutching the letter to her heart with trembling hands. Delivering a message to the Lord Sauron in His private rooms was much more frightening than having a formal audience with Him. She would have to stand much closer to Him and His unbelievable, heart-stopping, beauty and, since there would be fewer people about, His attention would be focused much more completely on her. Would He continue to favor her, as he had seemed to at the end of their audience? Or would He have changed His mind and be angry at Her again? Or, perhaps, He had forgotten her completely.

As she hurried through the large, echoing corridors of Barad Dur, Morwena tried to determine which outcome she feared most. To face His anger and be subject to whatever torments He saw fit to inflict upon her in reprisal was a truly horrifying thought. But, at the least, then, she would be in His thoughts and He would think her worth going to the effort to torture. If she had been forgotten, she was nothing, too low to merit even pain.

It took her several hours of walking to reach the place and she became lost several times because she was too shy to ask for directions. Even with out advertising the fact, she felt that everyone was staring at her, that their eyes could somehow magically read her destination, especially as she climbed higher and higher. She imagined they were whispering behind her back, spreading rumors about her, wagering on how she would "do" at her confrontation.

Finally, after climbing a winding stair many thousand steps long that coiled within the very turret of Barad Dur, she reached a door of heavy wood, its bosses in the shape of terrible heads: beasts with wild eyes and slavering, fang filled mouths. Some seemed most like wolves, while others were reptilian, dragons or great serpents, and some had flat faces and flapping ears like huge bats. But, most horrifying of all were those that looked almost human but terribly deformed and distorted.

For the moment, she could steel herself to go no further, for she knew this must be the doorway of Sauron's chambers. First would come the condescending mocking of whatever servant was sent to escort her…and then the dreadful presence Itself. Yes, she had spoke boldly before her mother of her desire to look upon Sauron and, indeed, she still craved His presence. Part of her was filled with joy that she had been given this task. But, at the same time, he was so beautiful, so powerful, and so terrible, so much more so then even her wildest imagination had envisioned, that it was almost more than she could stand.

Her clenched hand trembled as she extended it, then rapped on the door, very quickly, before she could change her mind. For a moment, there was silence. Morwena wondered in a panic if no one was in. Should she simply wait, and for how long? Or should she go away and return later? And where would she ever find the courage to do either? Then she heard measured steps on the other side of the door. The latch lifted and the door swung open.

With a cry of distress, Morwena flung herself onto her face on the floor. "Forgive me, my Lord," she whispered.

Sauron looked down at the huddled form cowering before him. He thought there was something about her that seemed vaguely familiar but he could not place it. "Get up," he said in his stern, quiet, voice.

Morwena staggered to her feet, though she still kept her eyes cast down. They were so close, certainly within arms reach of each other. She could actually see the slight rise and fall of His chest as He breathed. He did not tower over her, as she might have imagined. His chin was about level with the top of her forehead. But, all the same, she felt tiny and insignificant before Him. "Forgive me," she breathed again. "I never would have imagined that…" she faltered.

"That I would not have servants to answer the door?" he finished for her, with a rich sound, almost like a laugh. "Why should I bother? They would simply have to report to me anyway. And there would be very little for them to do, since none dare to come here without very good reason." Sauron remembered her now, the girl who had arrived with the Lord of the Nazgul, the one who had been so polite and well behaved yet so brave. He saw now too what, between the distance and the focus of his mind on other matters, he had missed in the throne room: that she was lovely in a simple, clean way. Her long dark hair hung down soft and shining, untouched by oils or powders and her skin was delicately pale, except where it pinked naturally upon her freshly scrubbed cheeks. "And what was your reason for coming here?" he finished, almost gently.

"Oh, I…I have a message for you." She fumbled, extending the letter in a shaking hand.

But Sauron did not take the letter. "Come inside," He ordered. "I do not feel like discussing my personal business in the hallway." Morwena slipped inside, having to pass even closer to Him as she did so. He swung the door shut behind her and she heard the latch click. "Here," He gestured for her to take a seat at a table in the middle of the room. She did so most awkwardly, feeling it was terribly improper to sit in His presence. "Allow me to offer you some refreshment," He uncovered a dish of lightly browned pastries, "while I read the letter and compose a response." Taking a seat opposite her, He filled two goblets with deep, mulberry red wine and slid one across the table to her. The food smelled wonderful and Morwena did not want to be disrespectful by refusing but, all the same, it was hard to force herself to eat in His presence, her stomach had twisted itself so tight from tension.

Sauron watched the girl out of the corner of his eye as he slit open the letter and unfolded it. She was gnawing hungrily on one of the pastries, even her manners natural and innocent, and still trying to appear properly submissive but he could see her glance flick in his direction time and again and he could see the wonder and yearning in those sweet gray eyes. "You wish to ask me a question," he said.

"Oh, no, my Lord. I would never presume…"

"Do not lie. I can see that you wish it. So ask, I command it."

"I could not help wondering, Lord, why you are so easy, so informal with me."

He chuckled. "I see no reason to make the effort not to be. I do not feel threatened by anyone who comes here. You I could kill with a thought, if I wished, without even moving from where I sit. I ask, should I fear you?"

"No, my Lord." She went very white

"Just so. Since I need not fear you, I need not trouble to put fear on you, if I do not wish to."

She nodded humbly. After a moment, she said, "Thank you for the food." Sauron nodded absently for he was now reading the letter. The fool, the fool. How dare he make such an insolent request? As if Sauron himself could not decide the most effective use of his own troops. He would hear of this latter. But no need to trouble the girl with all that. Casually, he took the letter and ripped it to bits.

Morwena stared in horror. Somehow He had become angered and now she would pay and, perhaps, so would the Nazgul Lord who had shown such concern for her.

"You have not earned my wrath," said Sauron, as if He could read her thoughts. "But, now, go tell your master that my answer is no," he finished coldly. Morwena nodded, bowing many times as she backed out of the room.