Disclaimer: I do not own The Lord of the Rings. It rightfully
and respectfully belongs to J.R.R. Tolkien.
Set It Off!
As Naurglahad bent down to re-tie the shoelace of her knee-high leather boot, there came a faint tinkle and a clear thud simultaneously. Looking around the room to find what had caused it, a sparkle of gold caught her eye.
The golden ring that she had picked up earlier must have had rolled out of the pocket of her old tunic. It was laying on the floor right now, silent as it ever was. She had forgotten all about it, having just sworn her service to a lidless eye and had company by a hooded figure without a face, not to mention being thrown out of her world and into another. She still had to figure the riddle of that situation.
Just as she was about to pick the ring up, high shrieks and screeching came from outside the door. The whole tower seemed to rumble with an awakening.
Naurglahad took the ring and held it in her fist, ready to jump out of the doorway and fend off intruders with her new weapons, but as soon as the screeching had come, it passed. She paused and thought. She deliberately dropped the ring. The shrieks came again. She picked it up. They stopped. She dropped it again. Screaming. She picked it up again. Silence. Naurglahad kept experimenting with the screaming and the ring. After a few tries, she found it quite amusing.
"On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On! Off!"
Joe burst through the door with a long pointed sword drawn just as she slipped the ring into her right boot. He was aimed to strike something, but refrained when he didn't sense the tantalizing call that had kept summoning him. He sniffed the air vigorously before returning his sword to his scabbard. Disappointment came over him. Naurglahad had just shaken the ring until it was actually under her foot. Oh well. She followed the Wraith out of the door without a word or question, wincing slightly from the band that was crushing into her heel.
Along the way, Joe informed her that she had to see one last superior before she could depart on her mission. He actually informed her of who she was about to see this time. Naurglahad was to meet the Witchking of Angmar to receive a few last notices and her official mark that would seal her allegiance to the Eye.
Past more dead corridors and out a southern balcony Joe lead her, and through a wooden door with iron bindings he locked her in. A creature that uncannily resembled Joe (and all of the other Riders) stood in the room behind the door. The only difference between this Rider and the rest was that he had a great helm* upon his brow, like a crown.
"You'd be the Witchking, right?" Naurglahad remarked pointedly, shifting her weight as she crossed her arms.
"Yes, child," the Witchking , "Now hush and come closer."
Naurglahad's eyes widened in panic. "What? What are you going to do?"
"Oh, nothing," replied the Witchking airily, "Nothing too painful..."
Naurglahad was about to back up into the door until another shock of energy came over her. This time, instead of feeling power, she felt some sort of growth rising in her heart. Things did not turn faint and blurry in blackness, but clear and intense in waves of crimson. It was so clear that she became dizzy. Her blood began pounding in her ears as she clutched her stomach, swerving on her knees like a serpent before its charmer. As she felt the caps of her knees collide with the coldness of the alabaster floor, something burning hot was pressed against her thigh. She opened her mouth to roar in pain, but only a weakened squeak came out though her lips.
There was a flash of contrasted black and white before she came back into reality. The Witchking was handing a slim pole to an goblin-like slave. The tip of one side had a flat surface on it. It had burning coals on it.
Naurglahad yanked up her left short pant in realization that she had been prodded by a cattle burner. A black patch of skin smoked there, etched into the delicate shape of a diamond-like eye. A thin line encircled the eye in a messy pattern, illustrated to give the effect of flames. The blackness of her new mark was so shiny that the drawn inferno really did look like it was burning. It definitely felt like it was burning.
"You are now an official servant of the Eye," the Witchking announced, "With it, you are given His Mind, His Protection, and His Strength." Seeing the confused and pained look on the girl's face, he continued to explain her new abilities, "His Mind gives you contact to Lord Sauron. You may call upon his great wisdom if you are in trouble. His Protection shall prevent his army, our orcs," the goblin creature that held the poker behind the Witchking barred its yellow fangs in a grin. Naurglahad grimaced. "Shall not harm you, though you are free to hurt them. And His Strength will give you the power to defeat the Ringbearer and his companions in whatever strategy you plan to carry out.... You are dismissed."
~*~
Even after she had mounted one of Mordor's black horses with Joe and a few fellows, and ridden for hours upon hours out of the Black Land, Naurglahad could still feel the burn sting on her leg. She was amazed that none of the three riders that accompanied her had said anything about how badly she maimed her uniform. But she figured that perhaps the Riders could not see. She imagined that Joe would have cried out in exasperated horror or something. She concluded that it was probably good luck that they couldn't see her.
"Where are we to find the Ringbearer?" she asked Joe later on. It was noon, and the Riders figured that they should stop and rest for a little while. Actually, they were stopping to figure out where the exactly were.
"At the foot of a mountain called Cadharas," replied the Nazgul as he adjusted the reins upon his horse's bridle. It snorted and pawed its stained hooves at the earth. Naurglahad admired these steeds with awe. They were huge and muscular with strong legs and wild manes of silk raven that fluttered fiercely in the wind. It would have gotten in the face of the horse's mounter if it hadn't been for the gray steel armor that lay upon it's brow. Their coats were jet black with a velvet touch, and their eyes gleamed a bloody rouge like the setting sun through a scarlet dusk. Dark bloodstains dripped from their horseshoes which had been brutally nailed into their hooves. Beautiful creatures they were.
"Or Redhorn," Joe continued. He re-mounted his steed simultaneously with the others, "In the Common Tongue if you prefer. Let us be on our way now!" He took the lead of the group and nudged his horse thrice with his pointed metal shoes. Then they were off riding into the midday, across the rocky caverns of the Ash Mountains.
It took almost a week of journeying across foreign towns and wild lands. They had leaped through great forests with towering trees that seemed to scrape the sky itself; mighty rivers that echoed in soft streams alongside the forests; rockfields and wheat colored stalks of grass that covered rolling hills and more mountains; passed an alliance in his constructing tower; and over one last mountain ridge that was unclear with fog.
Finally, there was a dying fire light in the distance behind a Rockwell. Naurglahad had dismounted at this point and crept over a nearby boulder. Now was the time to use the stealth and skill she had to prove herself.
Like a wildcat hunting it's prey she crawled alongside the foot of the boulder on all fours, using her fingers and toes more than her palms and knees. Lightly brushing the hilt of her dagger, she confirmed that she would have defense if she was attacked. Then she crouched and extended her legs to keep her going, firmly touching the rock she crept along. She kept one hand on her dagger as she carefully peered over the edge of the rock.
What she saw made her jaw drop.
Chaos-chan and two of her other female friends, whom she instantly recognized as Megan and Jackie, were sitting by the fireside next to the company she had tried to slaughter earlier. "So," she thought bitterly, taking her hand away from the dagger, "This is the Fellowship of the Ring.... Who was the fool who chose this group of weaklings to defend this land?"
She decided to keep her mouth shut as she ducked into the shadows of the night and poked her right ear forward.
"The Ring has been lost," moaned a Halfling... Frito or something was his name. "If it is anywhere, then it must be in the hands of Sauron! We are all doomed!"
"Don't loose faith, lad," said Aragorn determinedly, "As long as we are still the Fellowship, there is still hope for Middle-earth."
"Lovely speech, Strider," said Sam as he clapped a hand to his chest, "Now if only we could do something to make it happen!"
"Find the Ring first, of course!" gruffed the dwarf, Gimli as he crossed his arms.
"It's probably where you'd least expect it!" said Jackie.
"Isn't that the truth?" pointed Merry.
"But what actions are we to take?" asked Legolas.
There was a moment of worried silence as each member sat around the fire, staring into its fading embers.
And then Naurglahad breathed.
In a flash, half of the Fellowship was on their feet, weapons drawn, pointing into random areas of shadow, expecting an orc to fall on top of them.
"Time to make my appearance."
Slowly and gracefully, she rose to her feet out of her hiding place, the light of the fires casting Sauron's shadow upon the outline of her face. Her cloak fell over her shoulders like her dark auburn hair that became black in the night. A single clear bead of sweat trickled down her left temple. And between her fingers, she bore the glittering band of gold: the One Ring of Power.
*I know I read somewhere about what the Witchking's helm looked like. I couldn't remember if it was "great/black/big/scary" or "great/white/big/scary".
Set It Off!
As Naurglahad bent down to re-tie the shoelace of her knee-high leather boot, there came a faint tinkle and a clear thud simultaneously. Looking around the room to find what had caused it, a sparkle of gold caught her eye.
The golden ring that she had picked up earlier must have had rolled out of the pocket of her old tunic. It was laying on the floor right now, silent as it ever was. She had forgotten all about it, having just sworn her service to a lidless eye and had company by a hooded figure without a face, not to mention being thrown out of her world and into another. She still had to figure the riddle of that situation.
Just as she was about to pick the ring up, high shrieks and screeching came from outside the door. The whole tower seemed to rumble with an awakening.
Naurglahad took the ring and held it in her fist, ready to jump out of the doorway and fend off intruders with her new weapons, but as soon as the screeching had come, it passed. She paused and thought. She deliberately dropped the ring. The shrieks came again. She picked it up. They stopped. She dropped it again. Screaming. She picked it up again. Silence. Naurglahad kept experimenting with the screaming and the ring. After a few tries, she found it quite amusing.
"On. Off. On. Off. On. Off. On! Off!"
Joe burst through the door with a long pointed sword drawn just as she slipped the ring into her right boot. He was aimed to strike something, but refrained when he didn't sense the tantalizing call that had kept summoning him. He sniffed the air vigorously before returning his sword to his scabbard. Disappointment came over him. Naurglahad had just shaken the ring until it was actually under her foot. Oh well. She followed the Wraith out of the door without a word or question, wincing slightly from the band that was crushing into her heel.
Along the way, Joe informed her that she had to see one last superior before she could depart on her mission. He actually informed her of who she was about to see this time. Naurglahad was to meet the Witchking of Angmar to receive a few last notices and her official mark that would seal her allegiance to the Eye.
Past more dead corridors and out a southern balcony Joe lead her, and through a wooden door with iron bindings he locked her in. A creature that uncannily resembled Joe (and all of the other Riders) stood in the room behind the door. The only difference between this Rider and the rest was that he had a great helm* upon his brow, like a crown.
"You'd be the Witchking, right?" Naurglahad remarked pointedly, shifting her weight as she crossed her arms.
"Yes, child," the Witchking , "Now hush and come closer."
Naurglahad's eyes widened in panic. "What? What are you going to do?"
"Oh, nothing," replied the Witchking airily, "Nothing too painful..."
Naurglahad was about to back up into the door until another shock of energy came over her. This time, instead of feeling power, she felt some sort of growth rising in her heart. Things did not turn faint and blurry in blackness, but clear and intense in waves of crimson. It was so clear that she became dizzy. Her blood began pounding in her ears as she clutched her stomach, swerving on her knees like a serpent before its charmer. As she felt the caps of her knees collide with the coldness of the alabaster floor, something burning hot was pressed against her thigh. She opened her mouth to roar in pain, but only a weakened squeak came out though her lips.
There was a flash of contrasted black and white before she came back into reality. The Witchking was handing a slim pole to an goblin-like slave. The tip of one side had a flat surface on it. It had burning coals on it.
Naurglahad yanked up her left short pant in realization that she had been prodded by a cattle burner. A black patch of skin smoked there, etched into the delicate shape of a diamond-like eye. A thin line encircled the eye in a messy pattern, illustrated to give the effect of flames. The blackness of her new mark was so shiny that the drawn inferno really did look like it was burning. It definitely felt like it was burning.
"You are now an official servant of the Eye," the Witchking announced, "With it, you are given His Mind, His Protection, and His Strength." Seeing the confused and pained look on the girl's face, he continued to explain her new abilities, "His Mind gives you contact to Lord Sauron. You may call upon his great wisdom if you are in trouble. His Protection shall prevent his army, our orcs," the goblin creature that held the poker behind the Witchking barred its yellow fangs in a grin. Naurglahad grimaced. "Shall not harm you, though you are free to hurt them. And His Strength will give you the power to defeat the Ringbearer and his companions in whatever strategy you plan to carry out.... You are dismissed."
~*~
Even after she had mounted one of Mordor's black horses with Joe and a few fellows, and ridden for hours upon hours out of the Black Land, Naurglahad could still feel the burn sting on her leg. She was amazed that none of the three riders that accompanied her had said anything about how badly she maimed her uniform. But she figured that perhaps the Riders could not see. She imagined that Joe would have cried out in exasperated horror or something. She concluded that it was probably good luck that they couldn't see her.
"Where are we to find the Ringbearer?" she asked Joe later on. It was noon, and the Riders figured that they should stop and rest for a little while. Actually, they were stopping to figure out where the exactly were.
"At the foot of a mountain called Cadharas," replied the Nazgul as he adjusted the reins upon his horse's bridle. It snorted and pawed its stained hooves at the earth. Naurglahad admired these steeds with awe. They were huge and muscular with strong legs and wild manes of silk raven that fluttered fiercely in the wind. It would have gotten in the face of the horse's mounter if it hadn't been for the gray steel armor that lay upon it's brow. Their coats were jet black with a velvet touch, and their eyes gleamed a bloody rouge like the setting sun through a scarlet dusk. Dark bloodstains dripped from their horseshoes which had been brutally nailed into their hooves. Beautiful creatures they were.
"Or Redhorn," Joe continued. He re-mounted his steed simultaneously with the others, "In the Common Tongue if you prefer. Let us be on our way now!" He took the lead of the group and nudged his horse thrice with his pointed metal shoes. Then they were off riding into the midday, across the rocky caverns of the Ash Mountains.
It took almost a week of journeying across foreign towns and wild lands. They had leaped through great forests with towering trees that seemed to scrape the sky itself; mighty rivers that echoed in soft streams alongside the forests; rockfields and wheat colored stalks of grass that covered rolling hills and more mountains; passed an alliance in his constructing tower; and over one last mountain ridge that was unclear with fog.
Finally, there was a dying fire light in the distance behind a Rockwell. Naurglahad had dismounted at this point and crept over a nearby boulder. Now was the time to use the stealth and skill she had to prove herself.
Like a wildcat hunting it's prey she crawled alongside the foot of the boulder on all fours, using her fingers and toes more than her palms and knees. Lightly brushing the hilt of her dagger, she confirmed that she would have defense if she was attacked. Then she crouched and extended her legs to keep her going, firmly touching the rock she crept along. She kept one hand on her dagger as she carefully peered over the edge of the rock.
What she saw made her jaw drop.
Chaos-chan and two of her other female friends, whom she instantly recognized as Megan and Jackie, were sitting by the fireside next to the company she had tried to slaughter earlier. "So," she thought bitterly, taking her hand away from the dagger, "This is the Fellowship of the Ring.... Who was the fool who chose this group of weaklings to defend this land?"
She decided to keep her mouth shut as she ducked into the shadows of the night and poked her right ear forward.
"The Ring has been lost," moaned a Halfling... Frito or something was his name. "If it is anywhere, then it must be in the hands of Sauron! We are all doomed!"
"Don't loose faith, lad," said Aragorn determinedly, "As long as we are still the Fellowship, there is still hope for Middle-earth."
"Lovely speech, Strider," said Sam as he clapped a hand to his chest, "Now if only we could do something to make it happen!"
"Find the Ring first, of course!" gruffed the dwarf, Gimli as he crossed his arms.
"It's probably where you'd least expect it!" said Jackie.
"Isn't that the truth?" pointed Merry.
"But what actions are we to take?" asked Legolas.
There was a moment of worried silence as each member sat around the fire, staring into its fading embers.
And then Naurglahad breathed.
In a flash, half of the Fellowship was on their feet, weapons drawn, pointing into random areas of shadow, expecting an orc to fall on top of them.
"Time to make my appearance."
Slowly and gracefully, she rose to her feet out of her hiding place, the light of the fires casting Sauron's shadow upon the outline of her face. Her cloak fell over her shoulders like her dark auburn hair that became black in the night. A single clear bead of sweat trickled down her left temple. And between her fingers, she bore the glittering band of gold: the One Ring of Power.
*I know I read somewhere about what the Witchking's helm looked like. I couldn't remember if it was "great/black/big/scary" or "great/white/big/scary".