Days,
They are a measure of time, as we all know, spanning one rising and falling of the sun. It was not so to Him. For His days were measured in the ways of the hunt. As He'd always done, preparation was one day, planning another, and then the chase. Preparation often took more than one sunset and rise, but until it was done, the day was not yet ended. It was the same with all other things to Him. Time as we see it was irrelevant; all that mattered was his prey.
Identity was also seen as irrelevant to Him. As far as we, or anyone else, are concerned He had none. It is said that no one would know his face, or even that he existed, until the final moments of their life. He kept things secret, the way they should be in His business. If you have no name, no face, nor does anyone have any knowledge of you, how could you be suspect to murder? His reasoning was frank and forthright, to some it would seem cold and bitter, but this was His reality. Never had He known love, compassion, or pity; He acted with none.
"So, Mormegil, my friend, what do you make of this?" He took out a map. On it was what seemed to be an overlay of a palace. Several spots were marked in red and had paths of markings leading up to them. "I know, not very much to go on, but it will do until more is shown to me. My ways are not my own, you know. Something must drive me …" here He trailed off, lost in His own thought, as He often was. Night was beginning to fall and at midnight, as was His custom, day one would begin.
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I know, I know. I said this would involve LOTR in this chapter. I lied. But if you can find it in your ever-merciful hearts to forgive me, I will continue with this. I have the ending written already (none of the middle … just the very end). I would love to get suggestions, comments, or questions you would like answered in future chapters! BTW, Mormegil means 'black sword' and is what Turin Turambar was called at one time.