Hi all. So, I just bought a house and am now immersed in massive repairs but we'll just talk about fun shall we? This is probably most plot heavy chapter so far. I might even go so far as to say it's the turning point. Anyway, I hope it still pleases, despite the craziness in my life right now.


It was the day of the feast and the bath Morwena had so dreaded could be put off no longer. And, indeed, it was just as she had feared.

"My master said I was to guard you at all times," the ring wraith said, in a voice that invited no question.

Morwena frowned. "Couldn't you search the room first" she asked, "and then stand at the door? No one will be inside but my maid and I."

"I am a wraith. There is no impropriety." Perhaps not, but, in the presence of the wraiths, Morwena always felt the most piercing scrutiny from their unseen eyes and, whether it were carnal or no, it still made her horribly uncomfortable.

"I am already in a bad state about about what I have to do to day," she pleaded. "If I'm to do my best, I can't allow anything to increase my nerves. If you watch me bathe, I may become so distressed that I can't hold my voice steady."

"Why would you do that?" asked the wraith in the same flat voice.

"Because I don't like to be watched. It makes me distressed and frightened. I can't explain it. It simply does." In the end, it was this argument that prevailed since the Nazgul most certainly did not want anything to diminish the quality of Morwena's performance. The guard called in one of his fellows and, together, they practically tore the wash room to shreds.

By the time they had finished, the water in Morwena's bath had gone cold and had to be replaced. But then she was very relieved to finally be able to sink into the warm water after nearly a week without bathing. She knew she had become spoiled with luxury. Before her elevation, a few months ago, she had washed only once or twice a year. But today, if any day, was the day to look her best. Breathing the hot steam made her a bit light headed and helped her forget her worries. As she heard her maid servant kneeling down behind her in preparation to wash her hair, there was a sharp grating sound of metal that set Morwena's teeth on edge, as if the girl were dragging the washing basin across the floor, instead of lifting like she should.

"Mind what you're about, if you would," Morwena called. "I'd rather not damage my host's goods."

"Of course, my Lady." There was a strange edge to the girl's voice, making her sound almost more frantic than Morwena herself. But the washing of her hair continued without flaw, as the girl guided her head gently back into the basin. The heat of the water pressed against her scalp and into her brain, her mind drifted, and she almost dozed.

Suddenly, she felt something cold and hard brush against the now warm skin of her shoulder and, in shock, she flinched away. There was a choked gasp and a flurry of motion behind her, ending in a clatter as something fell to the floor. Whirling around to discover the cause of the noise, Morwena saw her maidservant, her face twisted with hatred and fear, her hand frozen in the very at of reaching for the hooked, black bladed orc knife that lay on the floor between them.

Morwena's scream brought her wraith guard bursting through the door. In a single sweep of his pale dagger, he had slit the girl's throat, the body dropping onto the floor and a pool of blood spreading out from it. As Morwena stood there, she began to tremble, and then to weep. Having already been filled with nerves at the through of her coming task, she found the additional strain too great. But it was more than just fear for her life. It was the the realization of her betrayal by the girl she had kept close but who, it was plain, had schemed for her death all along. The venomous snake, the collapsing stairs, who else could have engineered them? Even the poisoned food had come from a meal the girl had served her. And all that time she had smiled at her and spoken her fair and declared it an honor to serve her.

It took all her will to bind up her dripping hair and drag her fine dress onto her wet body. She wanted nothing more than to go hide away and not put herself through another ordeal. But she knew she had a duty and she would endure this just as she had endured cold and hunger and indignity many times before.

The Lord of the Nazgul looked with displeasure at Morwena's less than polished appearance but he quickly changed his tone when her guard whispered to him what had happened. Clever, clever of Clarice to use the girl's own maid, but not quite clever enough. She would pay for this. Trying to kill Morwena after he had invested so heavily in her was an offense almost on par with striking his dear little pet. Fortunately, Morwena's unstudied beauty was such that her slightly disheveled appearance only made her appear more lovely. In fact, it might even work to his advantage, he mused grimly as he hustled his retinue along to the feast hall. It did make her look appealingly pitiable and helpless.

Due to the assassination attempt and its aftermath, the wraith lord arrived late...in a most unfashionable way. In fact, he and all his followers walked into the hall in the midst of a speech by the war chief of Harad. There was a very uncomfortable silence at his interruption and he cringed all through the long walk up the hall to take his seat at his Lord's right hand. He did have one small triumph to comfort him. Wisely taking care not to look at Sauron himself, he instead fixed his gaze on Clarice where she sat on his left hand. When she saw Morwena still very much alive, her lips went so white that it could be seen even under the thick red paint.

"You're late," said Sauron coldly, as the wraith lord slid into his seat next to him and attempted to make himself look small.

"A deeply regrettable and highly avoidable disaster," he mumbled, knowing the right or, at least, the least wrong answer to give in this type of situation. Temporarily, Sauron waved him away and gestured to the Harardim leader to continued.

Clarice sat straight backed in her chair, every muscle tensed hard as stone. The stupid little half-orc slut had failed her yet again, for the last time doubtless, since she had likely been caught by now. Which could very well mean she had blabbed all Clarice's secrets too. Still, what of that? Even now, when she was out of favor, the Lord of the Nazgul still did not dare raise his hands against her. She glanced over at him with haughty disdain, some of it rather forced, she had to reluctantly admit, and had to refrain from gnashing her teeth in anger at what she saw.

Instead of having her retire to the far end of the hall with the other servants, the Lord of the Nazgul had, of course, chosen the peasant girl to stand at his elbow and wait on him. At first, this angered Clarice but, as she watched, she began to smile. The pathetic bumpkin was so overawed by her surroundings that that she was quite a mess. Her face was most unbecomingly tight with tension and her hands shook so that she almost spilled while pouring. Satisfied that the girl would end up making an ass of herself rather than otherwise, she allowed herself to relax a bit and delicately cut a sliver of meat from her portion, then set it gently between her lips to show that she, at least, know how it was done. And then she leaned to her Lord beside her, twining her hands through His raven hair and touching her lips to the ivory skin below His jaw. She thought He might rebuff her, as He often did in public. But, tonight, He suffered her caresses and Clarice exulted. Such attentions must make her lowborn rival sick with jealousy and make it still more difficult for her to concentrate on her tasks.

The Lord of the Nazgul nodded to himself. Although it had allowed her to walk into Clarice's trap, in the end, it had served him well to keep his council close. Since Morwena had no reason to view Clarice as a rival, her display was falling upon blind eyes. Sometimes he amazed even himself with his cleverness. He had no need for food and most of it tasted as dust to him but the heavy wines could still cut through the deadness a little. He drank deeply and was pleased.

Morwena did notice Clarice, but only as the woman who had tried to kill her, which was upsetting enough. But more distracting by far was the presence of her God, Sauron, no more than a few feet away. The Lord of the Nazgul watched his Lord's mood carefully, waiting for exactly the right moment to introduce his ploy with Morwena. This might be the right moment. Sauron was finishing the last piece of meat on his plate and having an animated conversation with the Harad battle master over the wraith lord's head.

"My Lord, may I crave a boon of you?" he asked when an appropriate lull occurred in the conversation. Trying to cut in would have more than negated any amiable mood his lord might have been feeling.

Sauron looked at him incredulously. Clearly, his earlier crime of lateness would not be so easily dismissed. "A boon? You? You used up all your favors earlier tonight." He coughed significantly.

"As you wish, my lord." The ring wraith searched his mind as swiftly as he could for a way to save the situation. "I know my offense is grievous but I have not offended you alone. All these fine lords you have brought here to honor have also been inconvenienced by my conduct this evening. I could only hope some of them might have been diverted by the entertainment I had prepared."

"Entertainment?" The Harad chief looked intrigued.

Sauron looked bored. Very little entertainment would be novel to him. "Well, if you want to see it, he can go ahead an present what he has." He waved his hand dismissively and called for more wine. The Lord of the Nazgul clapped his bony hands and Morwena came forward, her hair hanging loose and her shivering barely concealed. Only his ages of training prevented the wraith lord from burying his head in his hands. Things were not going well at all but he must brazen it out and hope for the best. "As some of you may know, this is one of my newest serving girls, who has been discovered to have many hidden talents, one of which is an exceptionally beautiful voice, which I will now have her..."

He was interrupted by a cry of protested from a partially drunken Clarice. "You would ask a common servant girl to sing at a high banquet?" she squealed in outrage. "How dare you insult my Lord's guests in this way. If entertainment is required, I will sing."

"Hold your tongue, Clarice," said Sauron sternly. Raising a hand, almost as an afterthought, he struck her across the face. Though the blow did not appear particularly forceful, Clarice whimpered and sank down, cradling her cheek. "I have said she may sing if the general of Harad wishes it," he said, the hint of a snarl behind his tone. "And so, sing she will. Does anyone else wish to try and thwart me?" The Lord of the Nazgul smirked to himself. With his magic and his deep knowledge, Sauron could make the lightest tap an agony. But that was of small consequence for Clarice was about to experience a pain far deeper than that of her wounded flesh. By acting against Morwena, Clarice had made Sauron much more determined to see her perform, where as, before, he had been indifferent at best.

Rising slowly from her knees, but still looking at the floor, Morwena opened her mouth and sang. It was not a love song, as he had hoped it would be, but, as he listened, the wraith lord began to suspect she had chosen something far better. In fact, Morwena had chosen to sing a prayer hymn, the very one she had sang when she spilled her blood on the sacrificial stone in her village years ago. Singing a prayer directly to the God was so utterly blatant and unimaginative that it could only be done by an ignorant peasant and only with complete sincerity. The ring wraith dared to glance sidelong at his master and saw Sauron's lip curl. He was amused, perhaps even charmed by this pious]display.

She really was a lovely girl, Sauron thought to himself, the way the fire light caught in her hair, the way she held the level of her eyes just so, neither looking him in the face nor away. There was pride in her, he could see it in her carriage, the light of her eyes and yet, she was wholly respectful. Not a pride to be broken then, but to be nurtured and tended, perhaps gently pruned, until all her pride was to obey him, a much more interesting task then the much more frequent one of dominating the stupid and ambitious through empty fear. And, judging by the sentiment in her song, it was a task already well on its way to completion.

And she was clever too. She would learn quickly whatever he chose to teach her, be it history, ancient languages, games of skill, or bed tricks. Or, best of all, ways of using the first three as bed tricks. Suddenly realizing the way his thoughts were leaning, Sauron drew back to consider more carefully. But why not? He certainly would not be having Clarice in his bed tonight, not after her outburst. No, he would ignore her and let her spend the night sweating with fear of what he might do to her.

As Morwena finished her song, he clapped his hands sharply. "Fetch a stool," he commanded. "I would have this sweet singer sit at the high table and taste food from my own plate." The wraith lord saw Morwena's face go white as she realized her ordeal was not yet over and prayed she would not faint. A low stool was brought and set in the front of the dais so Morwena could sit with her back to the crowed hall bellow and a small plate was set before her. Still slightly unstable,she had to put her hands on the edge of the table to steady herself but, nonetheless, managed to take her seat with relative grace and without upsetting anything on the table. Inside his head, the Lord of the Nazgul sighed with relief.

"What is it?" asked Sauron, seeing a troubled look on Morwena's face. "This is a great honor for you."

"It is," she replied and, at the deferential but clear tone in her voice, he felt his body tense. His mind was quite made up now about what he was going to do with her. "I am very afraid You will think me ungrateful," she went on. "But I did not come and sing before You to win honor for myself, no matter how wonderful." He motioned for her to continue as he removed slices from his cut of meat and placed them on her platter. Morwena drew back. "I came to plead for another and I would never presume more than one boon."

The Nazgul lord tried to signal for her to cease. His need for mercy, while genuine, had been just a ploy. The point had been to get her noticed and now she risked souring the notice she had already received. "Just eat the meat you little fool," he screamed inside his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Clarice smirk faintly, despite the puffy red mark on her cheek.

More about your dead father, I presume," said Sauron, reaching across the table to nudge the plate closer to her again.

"No, I still care deeply about my family, but, as I said, I can only ask one favor and..."

"Stop." He held up his hand. "This intrigues me, so I will consider your request. But not one word are you allowed until you finished all that I put on your plate. Think of it as a challenge," he finished indulgently. She looked healthy but still far too thin. She would be ever so much fairer if the bones in her cheeks and hands didn't stand out quite so much. If he learned that the wraith lord had been underfeeding her... Or, perhaps, it was just her self-denying nature. Either way, it would be a pleasure forcing her to finally put some good food in her body. Morwena looked doubtful at the proposition. "Oh, don't worry," he soothed. "I promise I won't send for any orc refuse, discarded entrails, waste, or anything like that." The sound of chuckling rippled around the hall as his local retainers remembered occasions in the past when he had done such things, then turned to the Haradrim and other guests to fill them in on the amusing details.

"I obey, my Lord," said Morwena and began gingerly chewing the meat. The ring wraith cringed and Clarice grinned for all at the high table could see she had the manners of a peasant. Sauron appeared unconcerned. Before she had even finished the meat, he gathered a great pile of fruit, nuts, and cheese and put it on her plate, as well as refilling his wine glass and pushing it across the table to her. Then, he sent away to the kitchen for an advance portion of the special roasted Mumak, cooked particularly for the men of Harad, and of the sweets that were meant to follow the meal.

Morwena lifted one piece after another to her mouth, chewed and swallowed, mechanically. The food was delicious beyond anything she had ever tasted. The Lord of the Nazgul had not starved her but, being a wraith himself as were his highest subordinates, he was not exactly concerned for the quality of his table. Ripe berries burst in her mouth and she felt the juice run down her throat, heavy and sweet. As she bit into it, the crust on the Mumak meat cracked so sharply that she could almost hear it. The strange, exotic, spices inside made her throat tingle and burn. Thought the tastes were good, she had never eaten food this strong or this rich and that, combined with the tight knot of nerves in her gut, made her deeply afraid she might be sick.

Sauron watched her carefully as she ate each piece, carefully analyzing her expression, her breathing. He wanted it to be a challenge for her, but one that she would, ultimately, pass, thus increasing both her pride and her trust in him. So, when she swallowed the last of her candied nuts and looked up at him with triumph and expectation, he considered carefully. There was discomfort in her face, but no genuine pain. It was all in her mind that the food would disagree with her. Reaching across the table, he took the goblet and tilted one of the flagons towards it. Morwena's eyes fell and a deep thrill went through him at having her emotions in such complete thrall to him. In reality, he only filled the cup up partway, knowing Morwena's fear made it look much fuller than it truly was to her.

As he predicted, Morwena did not notice. To her wine was still relatively unfamiliar and any amount could be frightening. She took a deep breath and drained the glass in a slow, steady, draft. It was only a swallow or two but she felt like she had done a great thing. And it humbled her as well. Instead of assuming she was finished this time, she remained, with eyes on her plate, patiently awaiting His next command.

"You have met my conditions." Again, that rich, beautiful, voice poured over her like oil. "And, in so doing, you have avoided shaming the hospitality of my table. Now, speak your request."

"I fear, in consideration of what happened at our last meeting, You may hold ill will towards my honored guardian, the Lord of the Nazgul, an enmity that has only been increased by our late arrival tonight."

"Yes."

"I ask for You to pardon him." Several guests near enough to hear gasped at the boldness of the request coming from a mere serving girl and the entire hall rippled as the tidings were passed down the tables to those further away.

"I cannot agree to such a request without due consideration but I promise he and I shall discuss the matter this very night."

"You are dismissed, Morwena," the Lord of the Nazgul said firmly. "You have done very well and I know you must be tired. So, go and rest." Best to get her out of the way while his lord was still pleased with her, leaving him with a favorable impression. To his relief, neither his Lord, nor Morwena herself offered any objection to his command. She rose, still with good poise, and bowed, then backed respectfully out of the hall. Everything had gone excellently. The way the Lord Sauron had toyed with the girl, it was one of his most common forms of seduction. Clearly, he had an interest in her which was more than could have been wagered on. At the very least, he had bought some time for the attraction to grow. Feeling more secure than he had in some time, the wraith lord poured himself a goblet of the very heaviest wine and prepared to enjoy himself for the rest of the evening.

As the final course of the banquet was beginning, Sauron leaned to his side and whispered, "After the feast, have her sent to my room." Triumph blazed through the Lord of the Nazgul. Though victory had seemed a possible eventuality, it was far from assured, and he had not expected it this soon. Quickly, he reigned himself in, not wanting his Lord to see, not yet. Once Clarice had been removed, Sauron would thank him for it, he usually did, but now things were still at a very delicate stage.

"My Lord, this is a great honor," he stammered. "Do you mean...?"

"Come now." Sauron gave him a slap on the back. "No need to be coy, as if you were the girl herself. You and I have known each other for long enough that you should be able to guess my meaning. I want her." He grinned fiercely, showing his teeth. "She works for you so, tell me, will there be any trouble?"

"I think not, My Lord. Certainly, she will not resist you physically. She has worshiped you all her life and would obey your command, even if it were to take her own life. But..."

"I knew there would be a but to this. You were making it sound so overwhelmingly pleasant."

"Lord, hear me out." The ring wraith spoke quickly and held up his hand. It would never do to put him off now. "The very fact that she worships you so completely does create some small difficulties." His master raised an eyebrow quizzically. "She considers herself unworthy of you and can scarcely bring herself even to look at you, as you saw tonight. For that reason, it is likely she may be very unresponsive or even try to pull away from you, not because she doesn't want to but because she feels she shouldn't."

"I see. But that can be dealt with. Is she a virgin?"

"I have no idea, My Lord. Certainly, she has done nothing since entering my employ but, as you say, her past is obscure."

"It matters not. I shall have her either way. See to it."

"With pleasure, My Lord." Infinitely more pleasure than his master realized.


If you're the typical fan fiction reader (you know what I mean), you'll want to tune in next time.