As Sauron did not answer her question, Aurora thought best not to bug him
again, but led him quickly to the place she had seen the thing. Amazing it
had seemed to her, and instinctively she knew what it was. The Lord will
like it, she thought. At length, they came to a group of high ridges,
created by the tempestuous weather of the region, sticking out from the
vale as brown hand coming out of the parched earth. Aurora led him into a
depression by the side of one of the ridges, and showed him a shaded nook
in it. To his surprise, Sauron saw a golden egg.
"Amazing, isn't it?" she whispered behind him, as he leaned forward to see, not believing his eyes (ha, ha).
"Can it be?" he said, half to himself, in an old elfish dialect he liked. At this words, spoken softly and melodiously, Aurora stared up at him in wander. My, my, she thought. Here is one unusual one, eh? Speaking some elven tongue and all, he must be of the noblesse of the tower.
"How was that?" she asked. The words in the elven tongue had caught her imagination, and images of moonlit nights beneath tall trees in a land of a hundred waters span through her mind. Moonlight and starlight and music in the evening, soft as the silk on the sails of a ship.
Sauron span, and stared at her. "You dare?" he said, now menacing and dark, displeased with the remark. He did not like anyone to know that at times he spoke an old form of elvish, one of the first tongues he ever learned, and closest to his heart (which he did not want anyone to know he had). And the servant had been insolent, unprudent in her words, and disrespectful of his rank.
"You speak your mind, and much to eagerly." he commented, his baritone voice now almost a hiss. "Perchance I should teach you the value of silence" The breath was that of a snake, and venom spilled in the words, cold dread hanging over them, and an icy menace in his eyes. Aurora, surprised, not to say the least, stared right up at them.
Now at first, she had the look of a rabbit hypnotized by a snake on her, eyes wide and filled with fear, mouth dry and hands twitching as she did not dare move. The Lord, whom she judged a tall man, a Lord or king of the east, or a noble of the Tower, turned before her eyes into a wraith or worse, a darkness brooding around him as the hands of death, clammy and cold.
She was terrified, standing thus alone in the dark waste with this being, as it towered before her and got ready to strike. What poison or deathly chill it would send her, she did not know. Than suddenly her eyes filled with tears. It was all too much. She had been well treated by Gashaakur and his company, but had been pushed around a lot when alone, and had really not had it easy. Now this person, whom she thought so fine and so polite, and who spoke so beautifully just a while ago was spitting venom at her.
Gashaakur was great, but he knew and cared nothing of trees and ships and the sea. She wanted to be in a song, as the ones of old, and to think she was going to die here, alone, cold, and without doing anything yet seemed unfair, so she started crying at all speed. In a while, her own crying absorbed her so, that she forgot almost entirely of what had menaced her enough into the fit, and just stood there weeping and shaking, incapable to stop.
Sauron stared at her in surprise. Mostly, his victims did not stir, too frightened to even think. Or they attempted one last brave, daring act of noble resistance, if they were great elves. But none ever cried.
He let her finish. In a while, she calmed down enough to give him a sad yet defiant and angry look that said "You are so mean", and to cross her arms in protest. "You shall yet taste my scorn, easterling" Sauron said, still in the same cold voice. She was now upset.
"I am not talking to you" she blunted his way, and turned around, and left in a protesting march. This was too much for Sauron, and he shouted "Still!" As he did that, being the Dark Lord, the sky turned black, and lightning struck the ridge near by, thunder tore the still air as an explosion, and the air stirred in malice and hate. A black whirlwind began to stir rapidly around Aurora, the dusty ground lifting up in clouds of gray and brown, menacing to choke her. Her eyes, already teary, welled up from the dust, her throat closed and she began to cough madly, her nose filled up.
The wind began to grow, until there was a tornado circling her, swirling at great speed, lifting her up. Aurora screamed in fear as the wind rose her two meters up, her hair flew wildly around in it, she could not breathe or move, and the noise of the hurling black wind was like the bitter cry of a Nazgul, a shriek as of glass being cut by a sharp rock. It pierced her ears and her mind, and she passed out in one final sob.
When Aurora woke up, her eyes were yet teary. The dust had not gotten out of them, or out of her nose and mouth, hair and dress. She recalled the horror of the black hurricane about her, and the voice of the Lord commanding Still!. She struggled up, terrified and angry, and looked around her.
To her surprise, she had not slept for long, as she imagined. The golden sphere she had discovered was gone, but when she turned around looking the way they had come, she saw the Lord walking off, carrying it in his arms. It had all happened a few minutes ago, and he had not killed her. Moved by a sudden sense of anger and power, she impulsively ran after him.
He was carrying a lot of weight, so she reached him lightly, and began to walk behind him. He said nothing, absorbed in his own thoughts, so she asked "Why did you do that?" Sauron suddenly stopped and turned around. There was that nuisance of an easterling again. She looked shabby now, dusty and hot from the run, her hair in disarray, her eyes bloodshot from the tears and the dust, her face dirty where the dust and the tears caked up, and the look on her face hurt, and frightened and sad. She looked rather like an abandoned dog. Sauron was not entirely angry at her, he had no reason. She was so inoffensive. An orc would be a greater menace. And she was not uncourteous, just bold and curious over the measure of an easterling.
"Do you dare disturb me?" he asked, softly and menacingly. "Why am I disturbing?" she said "I was wanting to show you the egg, and you screamed at me, and did that horrible, horrible sorcery. Why?" "I will not argue with a witless orc brat. Be off, and be thankful, for I could have slain you, or worse." he turned and walked. She ran behind him again "All right, I'll leave, if so you desire. But know this: I am not afraid of you. You can not scare me. Go, with your precious egg and your loftily tone, Lord, go. See if I care." Aurora turned around, and walked off in the opposite direction, mumbling to herself. She had liked him first, was then afraid of him, hated him next, and now she decided she did not care about him two bits, and had better things to do. Sauron turned around, thinking this all nonsense, and looked after her. She was walking quickly, brushing the dust off herself, small, fast paces on the parched ground bearing her off to the distant Northeast. "Easterling" he said. "Come back now."
She stopped for a moment, listening to him, and then stormed ahead on, not caring. "Return now" he said, the tone almost friendly. There was the voice she had liked at first. She kept walking now.
"Come on. I'll feed you..." Sauron knew what his servants liked. he stopped. She was dreadfully hungry. "What with?" she risked
Sauron laughed. This was unusual. She was hungry like a little orc, and yet wary as a wizard. And bold as a lord of men. "What do you like?" he asked. "Chiken." She was unsure of this. Never trust a tall guy dressed in black that does whirlwinds about you, carries enormous golden eggs without help and mumbles elfish.
She suddenly stopped and realized. Sauron! Who else! she had of course heard all the horror stories the orcs told of him. His power, his looks, the Eye in the Tower, the Flame of the East. He who bathes in the fires of Orodruin. He who eats Gondor lords at his board. He who flies dragons and defies Balrogs. The Dark Lord. "Yes, chicken." she said, and walked toward him. He smiled and they went on, toward Morannon.
"Amazing, isn't it?" she whispered behind him, as he leaned forward to see, not believing his eyes (ha, ha).
"Can it be?" he said, half to himself, in an old elfish dialect he liked. At this words, spoken softly and melodiously, Aurora stared up at him in wander. My, my, she thought. Here is one unusual one, eh? Speaking some elven tongue and all, he must be of the noblesse of the tower.
"How was that?" she asked. The words in the elven tongue had caught her imagination, and images of moonlit nights beneath tall trees in a land of a hundred waters span through her mind. Moonlight and starlight and music in the evening, soft as the silk on the sails of a ship.
Sauron span, and stared at her. "You dare?" he said, now menacing and dark, displeased with the remark. He did not like anyone to know that at times he spoke an old form of elvish, one of the first tongues he ever learned, and closest to his heart (which he did not want anyone to know he had). And the servant had been insolent, unprudent in her words, and disrespectful of his rank.
"You speak your mind, and much to eagerly." he commented, his baritone voice now almost a hiss. "Perchance I should teach you the value of silence" The breath was that of a snake, and venom spilled in the words, cold dread hanging over them, and an icy menace in his eyes. Aurora, surprised, not to say the least, stared right up at them.
Now at first, she had the look of a rabbit hypnotized by a snake on her, eyes wide and filled with fear, mouth dry and hands twitching as she did not dare move. The Lord, whom she judged a tall man, a Lord or king of the east, or a noble of the Tower, turned before her eyes into a wraith or worse, a darkness brooding around him as the hands of death, clammy and cold.
She was terrified, standing thus alone in the dark waste with this being, as it towered before her and got ready to strike. What poison or deathly chill it would send her, she did not know. Than suddenly her eyes filled with tears. It was all too much. She had been well treated by Gashaakur and his company, but had been pushed around a lot when alone, and had really not had it easy. Now this person, whom she thought so fine and so polite, and who spoke so beautifully just a while ago was spitting venom at her.
Gashaakur was great, but he knew and cared nothing of trees and ships and the sea. She wanted to be in a song, as the ones of old, and to think she was going to die here, alone, cold, and without doing anything yet seemed unfair, so she started crying at all speed. In a while, her own crying absorbed her so, that she forgot almost entirely of what had menaced her enough into the fit, and just stood there weeping and shaking, incapable to stop.
Sauron stared at her in surprise. Mostly, his victims did not stir, too frightened to even think. Or they attempted one last brave, daring act of noble resistance, if they were great elves. But none ever cried.
He let her finish. In a while, she calmed down enough to give him a sad yet defiant and angry look that said "You are so mean", and to cross her arms in protest. "You shall yet taste my scorn, easterling" Sauron said, still in the same cold voice. She was now upset.
"I am not talking to you" she blunted his way, and turned around, and left in a protesting march. This was too much for Sauron, and he shouted "Still!" As he did that, being the Dark Lord, the sky turned black, and lightning struck the ridge near by, thunder tore the still air as an explosion, and the air stirred in malice and hate. A black whirlwind began to stir rapidly around Aurora, the dusty ground lifting up in clouds of gray and brown, menacing to choke her. Her eyes, already teary, welled up from the dust, her throat closed and she began to cough madly, her nose filled up.
The wind began to grow, until there was a tornado circling her, swirling at great speed, lifting her up. Aurora screamed in fear as the wind rose her two meters up, her hair flew wildly around in it, she could not breathe or move, and the noise of the hurling black wind was like the bitter cry of a Nazgul, a shriek as of glass being cut by a sharp rock. It pierced her ears and her mind, and she passed out in one final sob.
When Aurora woke up, her eyes were yet teary. The dust had not gotten out of them, or out of her nose and mouth, hair and dress. She recalled the horror of the black hurricane about her, and the voice of the Lord commanding Still!. She struggled up, terrified and angry, and looked around her.
To her surprise, she had not slept for long, as she imagined. The golden sphere she had discovered was gone, but when she turned around looking the way they had come, she saw the Lord walking off, carrying it in his arms. It had all happened a few minutes ago, and he had not killed her. Moved by a sudden sense of anger and power, she impulsively ran after him.
He was carrying a lot of weight, so she reached him lightly, and began to walk behind him. He said nothing, absorbed in his own thoughts, so she asked "Why did you do that?" Sauron suddenly stopped and turned around. There was that nuisance of an easterling again. She looked shabby now, dusty and hot from the run, her hair in disarray, her eyes bloodshot from the tears and the dust, her face dirty where the dust and the tears caked up, and the look on her face hurt, and frightened and sad. She looked rather like an abandoned dog. Sauron was not entirely angry at her, he had no reason. She was so inoffensive. An orc would be a greater menace. And she was not uncourteous, just bold and curious over the measure of an easterling.
"Do you dare disturb me?" he asked, softly and menacingly. "Why am I disturbing?" she said "I was wanting to show you the egg, and you screamed at me, and did that horrible, horrible sorcery. Why?" "I will not argue with a witless orc brat. Be off, and be thankful, for I could have slain you, or worse." he turned and walked. She ran behind him again "All right, I'll leave, if so you desire. But know this: I am not afraid of you. You can not scare me. Go, with your precious egg and your loftily tone, Lord, go. See if I care." Aurora turned around, and walked off in the opposite direction, mumbling to herself. She had liked him first, was then afraid of him, hated him next, and now she decided she did not care about him two bits, and had better things to do. Sauron turned around, thinking this all nonsense, and looked after her. She was walking quickly, brushing the dust off herself, small, fast paces on the parched ground bearing her off to the distant Northeast. "Easterling" he said. "Come back now."
She stopped for a moment, listening to him, and then stormed ahead on, not caring. "Return now" he said, the tone almost friendly. There was the voice she had liked at first. She kept walking now.
"Come on. I'll feed you..." Sauron knew what his servants liked. he stopped. She was dreadfully hungry. "What with?" she risked
Sauron laughed. This was unusual. She was hungry like a little orc, and yet wary as a wizard. And bold as a lord of men. "What do you like?" he asked. "Chiken." She was unsure of this. Never trust a tall guy dressed in black that does whirlwinds about you, carries enormous golden eggs without help and mumbles elfish.
She suddenly stopped and realized. Sauron! Who else! she had of course heard all the horror stories the orcs told of him. His power, his looks, the Eye in the Tower, the Flame of the East. He who bathes in the fires of Orodruin. He who eats Gondor lords at his board. He who flies dragons and defies Balrogs. The Dark Lord. "Yes, chicken." she said, and walked toward him. He smiled and they went on, toward Morannon.