(AN: My guess towards why this story was flagged for the main character being an MS is that I made her "too nice" in the beginning. Well, in the tradition of the Bard William Shakespeare, I begin this story with our heroine at the top. But in this chapter we see her wrath, and the beginning of her gradual decline into darkness.)


A New Approach

Six days passed since Abrazir had departed, and Adunaphel, the lord of Vamag, had been waiting impatiently for his return. The work on the fortress had gone rather well, and the foundations had already been laid. It would still require a great deal of work before the fort would be completed according to her designs. Nevertheless, all of these designs were of little regard to her mind. She wanted to know what the Haradrim were doing and how they would respond to her attack on the fisher-folk. That they would not strike she did not believe, and was eager to know when it would take place.

By early morning, the scouts told of a rider in the canyon. The news arrived just as Adunaphel had finished her morning ritual of singing and had put away her lute. After she had summoned Zadnazir and her personal guards, she made her way to the entrance of the camp. It was on the very field where Abrazir had slain the prince of the Black Scorpion Clan that she came forth to meet the rider. As soon as the rider appeared, he doffed his tagelmust and let his fair face and dark hair be revealed. Adunaphel ordered her guards to stand down and waved with her hand. The rider approached and there was Abrazir, the clothes he wore stained with red-golden sand. Abrazir was brought into the camp and permitted to rest and take food and drink while Turant was sent to the stables to be fed and to rest. Once he had been fed and nourished, he told Adunaphel of what he had seen. He spoke nothing of the lady in black openly.

"The chief, Ubayy was his name, was sorrowful for the death of his son," Abrazir said. "But was willing to speak with you once your messengers came."

"This chief seems to know of my business before I have given word thereof," Adunaphel noted suspiciously. She had no doubt of Abrazir's loyalty, but his report made no sense. "And you seem to know much about their doings as well. Have you spoken with them or did they speak the Common Tongue?"

"There is a great mystery there, my lord," Abrazir answered, his voice lowering. "But I would not speak openly of this. Such words are not for all ears, as you may know, my lord."

Adunaphel nodded without a word, then took her second-in-command aside to her tent. As she was departing, she told Zadnazir to guard the tent and prevent anyone from coming close to the tent or disturbing them while they were busy. As Zadnazir nodded, Adunaphel closed the tent behind them and turned to Abrazir.

"I could tell that there is much more to your tale than can be told openly," she noted. "Where shall we start, then?"

"I cannot say for certain, my lord," Abrazir replied. "But there might be another Dunadan here in Haradwaith. Or at least one who speaks the Common Tongue, for I heard Chief Ubayy speaking it to his guest. It was his guest who knew of your business and told him of it."

"Did you happen to catch a glimpse of the chief's guest?" asked Adunaphel. "Do you know for certain that it was a Dunadan?"

"As for that, my lord," Abrazir returned. "I can speak for certainty that the guest was a Dunadan. It was a woman; she stood taller than any Haradan present in the camp, and she was dressed all in black. I know nothing more about her, save that she was acting on the orders of another. I did not hear the name of her master."

Adunaphel was quiet for a moment in thought, unsure of what her servant had told her. His words brought his message into light in her mind, but it opened up more and more questions. Which one of her people would engage of subterfuge against her with the common rabble?

"And what did this woman tell the chief to do regarding me?" she asked at last.

"To welcome the messengers you had intended to send," Abrazir stated. "And receive you with friendship."

"Is that so?" Adunaphel asked. "Well, it will certainly be easier to bring subjects willingly under our rule. And we should know more about this woman in black. We will enter into friendship with them. Let them come close to us, that we may see where the loyalties of this woman lie." She did not thank Abrazir, for her mind was busy.

After the tidings were given, Adunaphel ordered her messengers to be sent to the camp of the Black Scorpion Clan. Since Abrazir knew the way, he would go with them and Jubayr as well to serve as an interpreter. It was a sore blow, Adunaphel knew, lending the use of her interpreter while she remained in the camp, overseeing the construction of the fort. There were few here in the camp that knew the Haruze language as well as Jubayr, and the building would have to be done by the Haradan workmen. In the end, she judged that it would be best to gain the trust and allegiance of this Chief Ubayy.


Two days of nervous anticipation passed on the bay of Vamag. No news of the messengers had returned to the fort yet and Adunaphel was growing impatient. After her morning ritual of singing and playing her lute, she went down to the training courtyard to spar with her sword. As her blood was heated with the clash of blade against blade, her mind drifted momentarily from her opponent and, to their mutual dismay, her opponent's sword struck her right hand, cutting through the leather gloves and scratching the knuckle. She sprung back aghast, cradling her hand as if it had been seriously maimed. The soldier she had beaten, then summoned her physician to see to her hand. Corporeal punishment was not unheard of among the ranks of the Dunedain, but it was reserved only for the worst of offenses barring treason or murder. A lord of nobler stock might have forgiven the soldier and commended him for being aware when he had not been, and no punishment laid upon him at all.

As it turned out, the cut was not serious and was able to be cleaned and healed rather quickly. The physician washed the wound in warm water with athelas. In these days, the herb was known for its virtue as a healing herb, and it was said that it grew wherever the Men of the West made their dwellings. But here in Haradwaith it did not grow, and that which the physician had in his store had been brought with him on the voyage from the Haven in Armenelos. But, fearful that it would fester, Adunaphel had insisted that her physician use athelas to heal the wound, which he did.

That evening, after overseeing the construction of the wharf that would sit on the coast of her fort, Adunaphel retired to her tent. She slept fully dressed in her sable garments and with her chain-mail hauberk hidden beneath. It was her belief that, until her manor house in the fort was completed, she could not safely sleep in this land. She fell asleep and, by and by, dreams came to her. In the first one, she saw herself walking through an old, dead forest. There were bare, leaf-less trees here and there, and many tall ones that still bore leaves, but they were dark, unpleasant to look upon and no light shone through their leaves. But all seemed dim, like the whimper of light under a cloudy sky, and she saw no strong features. Then she thought as though she were flying and could see, afar off, the setting sun. A desire came within her to go thither and see the Blessed Realm of Aman, as had possessed all of her people these many years. But even as she reached out to fly thither, she began to fall and all seemed dark around her.

With a start she arose and heard a loud cry of fear. The moon was bright and full, making its way into the ocean in preparation for the coming of day. But in its light, faint through the veils of her tent, she could just barely make out a shadowy figure within the confines of her personal tent. Spurred into action, she leaped out of bed, seized her sword that rested at its side, unsheathed as it often was when lying beside her bed, and turned towards the shadow. Outside, the light of torches could be seen as her guards arrived at the cry. The silhouette of the uninvited guest could now clearly be seen. Adunaphel, still burning with fear and anger at being attacked in her very own bed in the dead of night, charged madly at her opponent with a yell. There was a clink of metal scales and a cry, then the tent-door was thrown open by her guards, bearing torches and their weapons. Foolishly, the intruder tried to run, but ran straightway into Zadnazir's hand, which seized the intruder by the throat.

"My lord," one of the guards said, turning to Adunaphel. "Are you hurt? We heard a cry."

"I am unscathed," Adunaphel breathed. She looked down and, in the light of the torch, she saw one of her handmaids lying on the ground. Azraindil had been a faithful servant in Adunaphel's retinue, and her death stung the Dunadan lord, filling her with wrath.

"What shall we do with this one, my lord?" Zadnazir asked, keeping the intruder secured.

"Chastise him very roughly," she replied. "He may not speak the Common Tongue, but he will know that this attack against my person will not go unpunished. And take her out of my tent." She gestured to the body of her handmaid. "In the morning, we will bury her."

Zadnazir took the intruder away and Adunaphel turned back to her bed. Her maids had been roused by the attack and were now crowding around her, eager to know if she was well. Some of them were gaping with terror at the body of Azraindil, being carried out of the tent. Fear arose in them for their lives and they whispered in horror if they were in danger.

Adunaphel dismissed her handmaids, unwilling to suffer their worries and concerns. She then took up her sword, placed it into its sheath and tied the belt thereof upon her loins, then strode out of her tent and onto the shore. The endless, gentle sighing of the waves upon the red pebbly shore quenched her wrath. But her fears were not assuaged: she had come close to death. If she had not been roused awake, or if the intruder had chosen another one of the sleeping forms in her tent, she would now be dead. Her thoughts drifted to death and what lay beyond. She was of the blood of Numenor, but even they were not immortal, not like the Eldar.

Her eyes gazed upon the darkened sea stretching out before her like a great ebony tapestry. The sun was not yet ready to lift her fiery head over the Orocarni Mountains in the uttermost East, but the sound of waves let Adunaphel know that she was facing west. A strange desire came over her, born doubtless from the music that she often played. For though in latter days all the great songs of the Dunedain were lost among the Exiles, in the days of their strength, their songs were often of the Sea. Here in the darkness, with fear still holding her tight in its grasp, her only comfort was the sea. She knelt down and unlaced the leather straps of her boots. Once her boots were removed, Adunaphel stepped out into the path of the tides. The water was cold and her toes clenched together in its chill, but she simply smiled and continued on. Once she had waded out up to her ankles, she stopped, looked up and breathed in deeply the salty air off the sea. For a moment, she let herself believe that, regardless of the wide berth of the Great Sea, the very waters that now rushed around her feet, were the same waters that touched the shores of the Blessed Realm.

And for the moment, Adunaphel was at peace once again.

But that peace would not last for very long. It was Adunaphel's unfortunate task to have Azraindil's body buried and send word back to her family on the next ship bound from the Havens at Umbar to Armenelos. She could not bear to ponder overmuch about death. There were many houses of the dead on Numenor for the long departed, and one wing of the houses dedicated to the Royal House of Elros had, enshrined in morgond, the likenesses of Adunahil and Alcariel. She knew that, one day, there would be a place for her on that cold, lifeless stone table where her father and mother lay. It filled her with dread.


When morning came, Adunaphel had her men drag the assassin before her. He was weary and his back bore many bruises from the beating he had received. But there was no sympathy in the gray eyes of Adunaphel, only a quiet loathing. Around her were her personal guard, the captains of the companies under her command and some of her household servants. In her hand she bore her sword as she stood before her captive, waiting for an excuse to use it.

"Haradan," she said to the assassin, speaking in the Westron tongue. "I know not if you understand my words, nor do I care if you do. You will know me by my deeds. You see all these tall, mighty men gathered around me? If you try to escape, they will kill you. Therefore, if you value your life in any way at all, you will do as I command or I will beat you into submission.

"Now then, you will dig with your bare hands the grave of this poor woman whose life you have brought to an untimely end. Then you will show me who hired you to kill me and where they may be found: I care not if you cannot speak our tongue, you can direct me with signs and gestures in answer to my questions. You will be permitted to live in order to see what happens to those who stand against me by witnessing the vengeance I will bring down upon your employers. If you refuse, I will cut off your head and place it upon my banner when I go forth into your lands. Every village I find I will sack and destroy until I find, by one way or another, who it was who hired you to kill me. Then I will destroy them. Know that your silence will not buy the lives of anyone, especially not your own. Choose swiftly, for my patience will not wait."

The assassin spat at Adunaphel's feet, and shouted at her in the Haruze tongue. Anger boiled over Adunaphel's point of restraint and, her sword in her hand, she struck the assassin with the flat of the blade. He reeled back, then turned back to her, hatred burning in his dark eyes. Again he barked insults in Haruze at Adunaphel, but this time she kicked him in the face with her boot. She gave orders for her guards to hold the assassin down, which they did. She placed the blade upon the assassin's neck, gathering her strength for the blow that would rend head from shoulders. Whether heated with rage or in cold blood, Adunaphel had the strength of a man in battle: if she were fortunate, severing this Haradan assassin's head might even take only one blow.

At that moment, there was a cry heard from the eastern side of the camp, near the canyon pass. There in the distance, she could see five figures on horses galloping towards the camp. Her wrath was restrained for the moment and she put away her sword into its sheath.

"Zadnazir," she ordered. "Make him dig, even if he must be compelled to do so with his tongue. But do not bury my servant until I have returned."

With that she strode towards the oncoming horsemen. They were now close enough that she could view them properly. Four were Dunadan and the last was the short, bald form of Jubayr. She did not smile, but she was pleased to see them returned without harm. As they approached, she saw at their head was none other than her faithful Abrazir, fresh from yet another successful task. This made Adunaphel smile.

The riders dismounted and Abrazir told his tale to Adunaphel. Apparently Chief Ubayy was willing to meet with her, as he had reported earlier, and had indeed appointed a time and place for their meeting. Within seven days time, they were to meet at An-Tarim in peace to discuss an alliance. Jubayr spoke little of what had happened during the meeting, and Abrazir was ill at ease.

"I suspect treachery, my lord," he said in secrecy later. "A journey of seven days will place us in the midst of the lands of this Chief Ubayy's lands. We may be assaulted at any moment. I'll warrant that his purpose in our meeting this deep into his lands is to sound out our strengths."

"Your words speak truth, my friend," Adunaphel nodded. "Yet already one has come to tempt our strength." She told him of the assassination attempt.

"Do you suppose that Ubayy was behind this assassination attempt?" asked Abrazir.

"You perceive my thought, my friend," Adunaphel coyly grinned. "Like no other man since my father. It may be, but that, I believe, is for another time. For now, we must make our plans for this meeting."

After the brief meeting, she returned to find that digging had been going slowly. Enraged and frustrated at the delay, she drew her sword and took off the assassin's head. The ceremony for Azraindil was held after the assassin's body had been disposed. As a Hall of the Dead had not been erected in Vamag yet, Adunaphel ordered that Azraindil was to be buried here and a mound raised over her remains. Once the shallow pit was dug out, Adunaphel had her guards lower Azraindil's body into the pit. Then she herself, in the tradition of the Dunedain, placed the first stone over the body of her servant. Her other servants then placed the other stones until a cairn of stones covered the body of Azraindil. Then several soldiers with spades heaved sand and pebbles from the beach over the stones until all was covered by a small mound of red earth and sand. This done, all those gathered around the mound gazed westward in silence.


The morning waxed on as the day's labor continued on the lord's fortress at Vamag. After the grim burial, the lord of Vamag and the captain of her personal guard oversaw the morning's construction. Work on the outer perimeter wall was nearly completed and soon the higher walls of the fortress would be formed. When completed, it would stand as a broad semi-circle, with its rounded face gazing eastward. As the Dunedain had no equal upon the sea, the wharf would be open upon the west. The east walls would be thirty feet high and ten feet thick, with the thickest and highest walls around the manor-house, which would sit upon the northwestern corner of the city, where the sea met the land. These walls would be twenty feet thick and sixty feet in height. These were higher because the manor-keep would be the tallest building in Vamag, with rooms for all of her personal servants and her guards.

"It must also stand," she added, upon seeing the finished foundations of the surrounding double-wall. "As a sign to all who approach, from east or west, of the strength of our arms." She spoke 'our', but in her mind and heart, it was 'my' that she spoke.

While the work progressed, she spent her time pouring over the best maps of Haradwaith. These had been made in the first coming of the Lords of Westernesse to Middle Earth, long years ago. Jubayr was with her, and told her what places were on the map: he could not read, but he knew the coast-line well enough to guess where they were and what she meant.

"This too will have to be mended," she thought to herself.

Her chief concern, however, was this meeting with Chief Ubayy. If the maps were accurate, the place where the meeting would take place was to the northeast, in the mountains only a few leagues south of the Harnen River. A journey of many days, across vast deserts and dangerous mountains: places where other assassins might lurk, such as had slain Azraindil.

"This won't do at all," she tutted, looking crossly at the map. She reclined in her seat, resting her chin upon her knuckles, and thought.

"My lord," Jubayr spoke up. "Do you have something in mind?"

"I do, actually," she replied. "But I have no intention of opening my thought to you."

"I know these lands, my lord," said Jubayr diplomatically. "If my lord were to tell her servant what she had in mind, perhaps I could advise her well?"

She laughed aloud. "And what advice would a Haradan have for a Knight of Numenor?"

"My lord is one of the sea-people," Jubayr said. "What is impossible for us is nothing to you."

A smile crept over Adunaphel's face. "I must think of some way of rewarding you for this." She rose from her seat and called for Abrazir. Within moments he stood before her, taking a knee, and ready for her orders. She smiled again.

"Send word to Umbar," she replied. "Have three of my ships dispatched to Abarloni as soon as may be."

"At once, my lord," he said, though somewhat hesitantly. It had taken them six days to come hither on foot, and yet she was demanding that ships be made, even though they couldn't possibly arrive at coastal Dunedain colony of Abarloni by the seventh day. But he knew better than to argue: he rose to his feet and left to carry out his task. She then summoned Zadnazir and had him assemble a company of her finest personal guards, and ten of her own handmaidens for a journey. She went back to the tent and started going through her things, looking for anything she might bring with her on this journey.

But Jubayr hadn't been idle. Making calculations on his fingers and having a second look at the map, he opened his mind to his master.

"My lord," he said. "You know that we took six days to come to this place from Umbar. Shall we indeed come to An-Tarim within seven days?"

"I did not ask for your opinion, Jubayr," she replied. "Nor do I expect you to understand my mind. My wish is for you to obey my commands and follow me to An-Tarim."

He stammered. "As you say, my lord."

A sinister grin crept upon her face. Not the appreciation of the devotion of a faithful servant; but the relishing of dominion. The death of her servant still hung upon her mind, and she was feeling less inclined to gentleness and courtesy. She had behaved sternly tempered with restraint, and now blood had been spilled: Numenorean blood. Now was the time to assert herself; she had seen the immediate results of such behavior and it made her smile. The Haradrim were more malleable to the way of force than the Dunedain, it seemed.

Now she gambled that a swift arrival at An-Tarim and a show of force could cow this Chief Ubayy into submission.


(AN: I have to give credit where credit is due: the maps which I have used in this story come from the Middle Earth Role-Playing game, as well as its related-offshoot Lindefirion. Unfortunately that presents us with a problem: no fan-made maps of Harad/Umbar show where "Vamag" was. The closest thing we have is Ardumir, southwest of Umbar: but I put it on the peninsula northwest of Umbar, just a little north of Numeros. That will be addressed, once we encounter her uncle.)