Disclaimer: I do not The Lord of the Rings. It belongs to
JRR Tolkien.
Set It Off!
Naurglahad whipped around to call for her corpse-like companion, but the thud of a door and the click of a lock told her that he had left the room and barred her in. She cursed and turned to the great Eye that burned like a sun above her. The Eye had no lid and it was flaming red like fresh blood. The outer flames along the rim of the Eye were like clawing hands, simply itching to choke the nearest thing they could lay their gnarled fingers upon.
"I see..." came a croaking voice from the Darkness that encircled it, "I see through your disguise, Mortal Dragon!"
Naurglahad's eyes narrowed suspiciously. This was no illusion of an Eye.
"How have you come hither?" it pronounced again, "Your blood is uncommon in this place."
"I haven't the slightest idea how I got here," Naurglahad managed to grumble, "What do you want?"
"Perhaps your question is not what I desire," said the Eye wisely, "But what do you desire?"
"To get the hell out of here."
"I could grant thee so."
The Eye caught Naurglahad's right eyebrow raise in interest. His plan was working.
"How..." she said, taking a few paces closer to the eye with a hand on her hip, "How can you get me back?"
"I am a great Sorcerer," replied the Eye, "I am wise and powerful, and I see through your mask. You have only half the blood of a mortal; a mortal of Arda. Numenor lives in you. Yet your Numenorian blood is impure with the blood of Glaurung and Ancalagon. How such a combination has occured, I am riddled, but I sense a spirit of the Corsairs within you. You are a friend of mine through blood."
Naurglahad was about to tell the Eye that she was point-blank unconvinced until she felt something surge through her body. It was a sort of energy; a powerful sort of energy. She could sense it spread from her neck, to her spine, from the tips of her fingers, and to her toes. She felt an exhilarating energy pump in her veins. It was power.
"Just as a consolation gift," said the Eye, "I give thee the Secret of Shadow. Thy foes shalt not sense thy intentions nor energy. I can grant thee any wish."
Naurglahad was still breathing deeply from the injection. She gazed at her fingers and limbs as if she had never seen them before. Clenching her fists and angling her elbows, a look of utter amazement passed over her face. She grinned at the feeling of this new energy.
"Then I have a request, " Naurglahad began, but she paused. As a bounty hunter, she made deals like these herself. "But what is that catch?"
"The catch?" the Eye questioned, the redness around its pupil pulsing.
"What must I give you in return?"
"Ah. Simply do the tasks that I give you, and I have only one task."
"And what task would that be?"
"You shall be informed if you join my Allegiance."
Naurglahad took a deep breath. What harm could doing a little errand bring? The Eye would probably ask for a precious gem lying in the corner of a cave infested by creatures that he couldn't tackle alone. She had been trained in the art of stealth back at home, had she not? Making deals and hunting people down was an easy business for her, and it would be even easier with the Secret of Shadow.
"Fine then, " she said finally, "I accept your offer."
And at that moment, she swore her allegiance to Sauron, the Great Lidless Eye. He told her of a precious piece of jewellery that a foolish Halfling bore, and was on his way to the land they were in, Mordor, to cast in into the fires to destroy it. If she could retrieve this jewellery and give it to him, then he would grant her a return home, or a seat of power if she decided to stay in the world she was in, which was called Middle-earth.
"Give her common clothes," Sauron commanded to Joe, who was found guarding the chamber doors once they were opened, "She must become the enemy."
~*~
"Do I get tattered robes like you?" Naurglahad blurted out as soon as the doors were shut.
"Not quite, " replied Joe, "You get a robe and tunic, and a set of artillery of your choice."
"...You sound like a salesperson when you talk like that..."
Of course, their conversation launched off into a debate of accents and dialect. Naurglahad did not miss a second chance to peek over the wall of the rounding outdoor walkway. Torches still burned along the path that lead to the three great iron doors, which were now shut and unavailable to incoming soldiers. The body of the tower seemed to be singing with the working chants of slaves. From her position, she could see miles and miles of black land, probably rich with building materials. To think, if Naurglahad were to succeed in her mission, she could own all of this.
Her fantasies blurred away from her mind as she entered a wide hall of weapons. Hilts of black, auburn, scarlet, and steel supported blades from the size of a dagger, to the length of the javelin she had a few days ago... wherever that was. Wherever anything was. The swords ranged from sleek and straight, to rusty and jagged. Or perhaps she could select something from the archery department, seeing the great arrows that lay in a bronze quiver. And then again, an iron mace would definitely whack off someone's head.
Weapons to Naurglahad was like diamonds to modern women. She jumped and screamed "I want that one! And that one! Oh! And that one over there!". Naturally, Joe advised that she only take three weapons on her mission. A sword and two daggers could be a good combination. Yet, Naurglahad never let anyone come between herself and her choice of weapons. So, after fifteen minutes of pacing back and forth around the hall, she walked out carrying a dagger, a short sword, and a double-bladed spear with a black and scarlet handle. She was swift and skilful with this weapon and it was her personal favorite.
"Here are the garments you inquired about," announced Joe when he had received a parcel dropped from a flock of crows that had swooped into the tower. In it was a black tunic with long, full sleeves and ankle-length. Also came a woolen dark gray cloak with an ivory clasp, a belt, and a set of gloves that left the tip of her fingers bare and came up to near her elbows.
"Change in this room," Joe continued in his instructions. He opened a door which lead to a very dull and gray room with no windows. It was completely bare and empty, save the empty rusty shackles that hung from the ceiling and a dusty full-length mirror that leaned against a wall. After he had closed the door, she slipped her uniform on. It fit comfortably and snugly, unlike the belt to carry her weapons. But she wasn't going to let that stop her from carrying her beloved spear.
Taking the dagger from its tin sheathe, she cut a slit on the right side of her skirt, and brought it up to her thigh. Modest-wise, she was lucky to be wearing a pair of dark spandex-like shorts underneath the tunic. She buckled the belt to the widest notch and wore it as a diagonal strap across her chest. On this, she hooked her spear, short sword, and dagger.
As she looked into the mirror, she shook her head. Something was wrong. Or... something was unbalanced.
Rip!
Off came her left sleeve with a strong sharp tug. Now not only was her left leg bare, but so was her left arm. Much better.
With the extra cloth from her sleeve, she unhooked her dagger from the belt, and strapped it around her leg with the fabric.
"Ah," she sighed as she threw her cloak over her shoulder, "Not bad."
Support the Black Lands!
Set It Off!
Naurglahad whipped around to call for her corpse-like companion, but the thud of a door and the click of a lock told her that he had left the room and barred her in. She cursed and turned to the great Eye that burned like a sun above her. The Eye had no lid and it was flaming red like fresh blood. The outer flames along the rim of the Eye were like clawing hands, simply itching to choke the nearest thing they could lay their gnarled fingers upon.
"I see..." came a croaking voice from the Darkness that encircled it, "I see through your disguise, Mortal Dragon!"
Naurglahad's eyes narrowed suspiciously. This was no illusion of an Eye.
"How have you come hither?" it pronounced again, "Your blood is uncommon in this place."
"I haven't the slightest idea how I got here," Naurglahad managed to grumble, "What do you want?"
"Perhaps your question is not what I desire," said the Eye wisely, "But what do you desire?"
"To get the hell out of here."
"I could grant thee so."
The Eye caught Naurglahad's right eyebrow raise in interest. His plan was working.
"How..." she said, taking a few paces closer to the eye with a hand on her hip, "How can you get me back?"
"I am a great Sorcerer," replied the Eye, "I am wise and powerful, and I see through your mask. You have only half the blood of a mortal; a mortal of Arda. Numenor lives in you. Yet your Numenorian blood is impure with the blood of Glaurung and Ancalagon. How such a combination has occured, I am riddled, but I sense a spirit of the Corsairs within you. You are a friend of mine through blood."
Naurglahad was about to tell the Eye that she was point-blank unconvinced until she felt something surge through her body. It was a sort of energy; a powerful sort of energy. She could sense it spread from her neck, to her spine, from the tips of her fingers, and to her toes. She felt an exhilarating energy pump in her veins. It was power.
"Just as a consolation gift," said the Eye, "I give thee the Secret of Shadow. Thy foes shalt not sense thy intentions nor energy. I can grant thee any wish."
Naurglahad was still breathing deeply from the injection. She gazed at her fingers and limbs as if she had never seen them before. Clenching her fists and angling her elbows, a look of utter amazement passed over her face. She grinned at the feeling of this new energy.
"Then I have a request, " Naurglahad began, but she paused. As a bounty hunter, she made deals like these herself. "But what is that catch?"
"The catch?" the Eye questioned, the redness around its pupil pulsing.
"What must I give you in return?"
"Ah. Simply do the tasks that I give you, and I have only one task."
"And what task would that be?"
"You shall be informed if you join my Allegiance."
Naurglahad took a deep breath. What harm could doing a little errand bring? The Eye would probably ask for a precious gem lying in the corner of a cave infested by creatures that he couldn't tackle alone. She had been trained in the art of stealth back at home, had she not? Making deals and hunting people down was an easy business for her, and it would be even easier with the Secret of Shadow.
"Fine then, " she said finally, "I accept your offer."
And at that moment, she swore her allegiance to Sauron, the Great Lidless Eye. He told her of a precious piece of jewellery that a foolish Halfling bore, and was on his way to the land they were in, Mordor, to cast in into the fires to destroy it. If she could retrieve this jewellery and give it to him, then he would grant her a return home, or a seat of power if she decided to stay in the world she was in, which was called Middle-earth.
"Give her common clothes," Sauron commanded to Joe, who was found guarding the chamber doors once they were opened, "She must become the enemy."
~*~
"Do I get tattered robes like you?" Naurglahad blurted out as soon as the doors were shut.
"Not quite, " replied Joe, "You get a robe and tunic, and a set of artillery of your choice."
"...You sound like a salesperson when you talk like that..."
Of course, their conversation launched off into a debate of accents and dialect. Naurglahad did not miss a second chance to peek over the wall of the rounding outdoor walkway. Torches still burned along the path that lead to the three great iron doors, which were now shut and unavailable to incoming soldiers. The body of the tower seemed to be singing with the working chants of slaves. From her position, she could see miles and miles of black land, probably rich with building materials. To think, if Naurglahad were to succeed in her mission, she could own all of this.
Her fantasies blurred away from her mind as she entered a wide hall of weapons. Hilts of black, auburn, scarlet, and steel supported blades from the size of a dagger, to the length of the javelin she had a few days ago... wherever that was. Wherever anything was. The swords ranged from sleek and straight, to rusty and jagged. Or perhaps she could select something from the archery department, seeing the great arrows that lay in a bronze quiver. And then again, an iron mace would definitely whack off someone's head.
Weapons to Naurglahad was like diamonds to modern women. She jumped and screamed "I want that one! And that one! Oh! And that one over there!". Naturally, Joe advised that she only take three weapons on her mission. A sword and two daggers could be a good combination. Yet, Naurglahad never let anyone come between herself and her choice of weapons. So, after fifteen minutes of pacing back and forth around the hall, she walked out carrying a dagger, a short sword, and a double-bladed spear with a black and scarlet handle. She was swift and skilful with this weapon and it was her personal favorite.
"Here are the garments you inquired about," announced Joe when he had received a parcel dropped from a flock of crows that had swooped into the tower. In it was a black tunic with long, full sleeves and ankle-length. Also came a woolen dark gray cloak with an ivory clasp, a belt, and a set of gloves that left the tip of her fingers bare and came up to near her elbows.
"Change in this room," Joe continued in his instructions. He opened a door which lead to a very dull and gray room with no windows. It was completely bare and empty, save the empty rusty shackles that hung from the ceiling and a dusty full-length mirror that leaned against a wall. After he had closed the door, she slipped her uniform on. It fit comfortably and snugly, unlike the belt to carry her weapons. But she wasn't going to let that stop her from carrying her beloved spear.
Taking the dagger from its tin sheathe, she cut a slit on the right side of her skirt, and brought it up to her thigh. Modest-wise, she was lucky to be wearing a pair of dark spandex-like shorts underneath the tunic. She buckled the belt to the widest notch and wore it as a diagonal strap across her chest. On this, she hooked her spear, short sword, and dagger.
As she looked into the mirror, she shook her head. Something was wrong. Or... something was unbalanced.
Rip!
Off came her left sleeve with a strong sharp tug. Now not only was her left leg bare, but so was her left arm. Much better.
With the extra cloth from her sleeve, she unhooked her dagger from the belt, and strapped it around her leg with the fabric.
"Ah," she sighed as she threw her cloak over her shoulder, "Not bad."
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