The sound of Ian's fist knocking against the wooden door echoed through the stairway and sent chills down Savina's spine. Her stomach was twisted in fear and her back was drenched in sweat from the climb.
The door slammed open suddenly, making Savina jump and the hair on the back of her neck stand up and goosebumps appeared all over her arms.
"Enter," a man's voice called through the chill air.
Savina pressed her back against the stone wall, shivering all over.
Ian tugged her by her arm and strode into the room.
The room was dark, despite the large window she had seen from the outside. The room was bare except for a large desk crowded with books and scrolls, a high-backed wooden chair, and a large wooden cabinet. Gray smoke swirled around in the room, apparently coming from something in a dark corner that Savina couldn't even see into.
Ian led her into the center of the room, his footsteps echoing in the empty room, and pushed her to the ground, where she landed hard on her hands and knees, "a slave, Master," he said, bowing at the waist.
"Why didn't you just hand her over to a slave-driver, Ian?" the voice sounded amused, "ah, wait…I think I know."
"She is strong, Master," Ian continued, his face betraying no emotion, "she will serve you well."
Savina dusted her hands off and stared into the dark corner. An odd stirring in the back of her mind told her she'd heard that voice before, but she couldn't place it.
The voice spoke again, "well, she certainly is a filthy little thing isn't she?"
Ian shot her a look as if it were her fault she was filthy, "yes, Master, I will have her clean herself."
"What is she? Another human wench?" the voice shifted a little to the right.
Ian shrugged, "some sort of elf, Master."
"A MoonElf?" the voice moved a little closer to the light and Savina could just see a pair of feet.
"Perhaps, Master," Ian glanced down at her, "I found her wandering around a few miles away from the Tower."
"Bring her closer, I want to talk to her."
Ian hauled her to her feet by her collar and shoved her toward the dark corner, "speak to your Master."
That sentence made the fear in Savina's stomach catch fire and turn into burning anger. Savina stumbled foreword, then straightened her back and stared defiantly into the shadows, "I have no Master," she announced haughtily.
"You will after you feel the power of darkness," the voice informed her coldly, "I will be your master." The sentence was hardly finished when the voice was replaced by a horrid bout of hacking coughs. There was the sound of a throat clearing, then the voice spoke again, quieter this time, "are you a MoonElf or not?"
"Yes, I am," Savina replied proudly.
"What were you doing all alone in the middle of Mordor?" the voice demanded.
"That is none of your business."
"I disagree." The voice seemed to be amused, then the laughter disappeared, "Ian," Ian straightened up, "call for hot soup, I am hungry."
"Yes, Master," Ian turned and opened the door to leave.
"Ian?"
Ian paused and stared into the dark corner, "Master?"
"Don't come back until I call for you."
Ian's face remained emotionless, but his voice was heavy with disappointment, "yes, Master."
When the door closed, Savina stood alone in the center of the room, feeling very vulnerable, but not frightened.
There was heavy silence for a time, then the voice spoke again, "what did you say your name was?"
"I didn't say what my name was," Savina snapped.
"Quite beside the point," there was a pause, then the voice continued, sounding annoyed, "I could kill you this instant, little elf, you should remember that when you answer my questions. Answer respectfully and you will go unharmed…for now." The voice returned to it's friendly tone, "now what did you say your name was?"
Savina didn't answer, but stared into the shadows, "what's your name?"
"You can call me Master."
Savina was silent, thinking she would die before she'd ever call this dark lord Master.
There was the sound of muffled coughing, then the voice continued, "come closer, I want to look at you."
"You can see me from there," Savina retorted, stepping backward.
The voice became cold again, "I didn't ask if you thought I could see you, I commanded you to step foreword."
Fear returned. Savina stepped foreword, staring into the shadows.
Then something moved into the light. A tall, thin man wearing a black cloak with the hood pulled up, hiding his face. His hands were long-fingered and slender, but that was all Savina could tell about him.
"Come closer," he ordered, making Savina wonder if he had trouble seeing. She remembered what Rayvin and Nor had told her about Sauron's Elven host weakening and him needing a new one and wondered if he was going blind. It made her sick that she stood before what had once been a great MoonElf king and was now a host for the purest evil there had ever been. She stepped foreword hesitantly.
"This damn body…" he mumbled, so quietly Savina wasn't sure she'd heard correctly, then he straightened up and pushed the hood back.
His face was thin, so impossibly thin that Savina was surprised he was alive. Black eyes burned startlingly bright in the wasted face, and thin hair that had probably once been as silver as Savina's framed his face and trailed down his shoulders.
Savina shrank back, staring at him in horror. Something about this man…she'd seen him before.
Just then there was a knock at the door.
Savina spun around and stared at the door, startled.
The man, seeming amused by her reaction, gave a low cackle of a laugh and said, "enter," in his raspy voice that sent chills down her back.
The door creaked open and two thin children entered, each carrying a bowl of steaming soup. They stopped and stood staring at the ground, their faced expressionless.
The Dark Lord gazed down at them for a moment with a look of mixed amusement and disgust, then he strode foreword and stood before them, his arms crossed, "so, little hobbits," he studied them for a moment, "Merry, are you ready to tell me the location of the ring?"
Savina started. Hobbits? A ring? She'd heard this before, these were the hobbits Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli had set out to rescue. She wondered if they knew anything about the fate of their friends.
One of the hobbits, one with curly brownish blonde hair, glanced up, his small face adamant with quiet defiance, "no."
The Dark Lord smiled thinly, "it is little matter to me, they are taking it to Mount Doom, after all, and they will be captured the moment they set foot within Mordor." He gazed down at them for a moment longer, his eyes narrowed, then pointed to the desk, "put the bowls down and go back to the kitchen."
They hurried foreword, set the bowls carefully on the desk, then turned to go.
The hobbit that hadn't spoken paused as he turned from the desk and looked up at her through his tangle of blonde hair, his eyes grew wide and he glanced hurriedly at the other hobbit, which gave her the same look. Glancing fearfully at the Dark Lord, they fled from the room and shut the door. Savina could hear their voices and the thump of their feet on the stairs.
The Dark Lord turned to her, arms still crossed tightly over his chest, he squinted at her as if he couldn't quite see her, then snapped irritably, "come here!"
Realization dawned on her. She made a croaking sound in her throat and fell back against the wall in horror.
Her father glared down at her, "I said come here…now!"
Savina's tired legs gave out and she slid to the floor, weeping silently. Her tears made streaks in the filth that covered her face.
Caburnat strode foreword and seized her by her chin, jerking her face up to face him. He made an odd sound and stumbled backward for a moment, murmuring, "the daughter," under his breath. Then, all at once, he seized her by the arm and hauled her, with surprising strength, to her feet. "So you aren't dead, my sources were wrong." A strange smile came over his face, "you have come just in time," his face twitched spasmodically and he held his arms out, "my daughter."
Tear poured down Savina's face, this was her father. The man she loved more than anything in the world. The reason she had begged Aragorn to let her join him on his quest stood right before, arms outstretched. With a ragged sob, Savina leaned her head against her father's shoulder and wept as he held her, just like he had when she was a child.
He held her as she cried, she didn't know how long. Then he lifted her chin and smiled at her, his face stretching as if he hadn't really smiled in a long time. "We have much work to do, daughter, but first," he glanced out the window, "first you will get cleaned up. We've been expecting you for a while." Caburnat walked to the door and opened it, "servant!" he yelled.
Moments later, a MoonElf girl about Savina's age with long black hair came running up the stairs and bowed lowly before the Dark Lord, "Master?"
"My daughter has arrived," he explained, gesturing to Savina. The girl's eyes grew large and her face showed absolute dread. Caburnat continued, "is her room still prepared for her?"
"Yes, Master," the girl said in a mournful voice.
"Good," Savina's father gestured to the girl, "this is…" he glanced at the maid, "what's you name?"
"Olivia," the girl replied quietly.
"Olivia," Caburnat put his thin hand on Savina's shoulder, "she'll be your personal maid until…" he looked uncomfortable, "she'll be your personal maid." He turned to Olivia, "take her to her room."
"Yes, Master," Olivia bowed, then turned to Savina, "if you'll follow me, Mistress."
Savina glanced at her father, uneasiness seeping into her stomach, this wasn't right…was it really her father? She remember what Rayvin had said about Sauron taking over the body of the MoonElf and how the body was weakening and he needed another MoonElf, preferably the one that the current host had loved the most. Her stomach sank. Suddenly everything made sense, but what could she do?