Sauron's Child
Chapter 6: Strengthening of darkness
In all the history of middle earth never had one with elven
blood looked so forward to heading to Mordor than Valimar. In the most recent aeons of history elves
had only approached the Tower of Sorcery to do battle with the Dark Lord, to
remove him form middle earth. Yet the
only grandchild of Thranduil, king of the Wood Elves, was ever so excited about
her departure from Dol Guldur and her home of Mirkwood. The girl was travelling to one of the
darkest places on middle earth yet felt joyful about it. In truth the young half elf had no
understanding of where she was headed. All Valimar knew was that she was leaving the only place she had ever
known and she would prove her worthiness to meet her father. It felt wonderful
too Vanaria's daughter, for the girl built up a dream picture of Mordor. In her mind her father's land was coloured
with the romance that she ascribed to her mighty father. If Mordor was the Necromancer's then it must
be more wonderful than Dol Guldur and that was a placed filled with
magnificence. As she and her honour
guard, for the girl was to be a person of importance in Mordor and was to be
given the trappings of rank necessary for that, headed eastwards Valimar
continued to invent her father's magnificence's.
The girl had heard that mountains guarded the entrances to
her father's land and so in her daydreams she imagined tall and noble peaks
rising from the land to create and impassable barrier. In which waterfalls
sparkled throwing rainbows up with their spray. Where the birdsong was heard in greater volume than at Dol
Guldur. How wrong was the child. Mordor was not place of beauty. Its very air oppressed the spirit. The mountains were not noble pinnacles
piercing the sky. Rather their craggy
forms looked like tortured bodies thrust up in agony trying to escape from the
earth. They had been created with foul
magic to fortify the land of Mordor. The land suffered a bleakness here that had not existed in Dol Guldur,
dark though that fortress had been. There, at least, the sunlight had blazed and the beeches of Mirkwood
reflected the changing seasons. But in the dull land to the west of the
mountains of Mordor the burnt grass and desolation went unmarred by a single
tree, the sun itself seemed to peer out weakly fearful of the shadows.
Valimar was not taken by her father's land; the wood elf
within her clamoured for the beauty of the forest and here there was none. The child was disappointed and for a moment
her father slipped in her estimation, as a flaw appeared in the fantasyland
picture her imaginative mind had created. Yet as the Brown lands were crossed without incident. As dull as the whole journey had been,
impetuous Valimar began to suffer boredom. This was a new emotion for the half elf. Previously her days had been occupied with action, learning and
no little fear (particularly of her father's mouthpiece), yet on the passage
from Dol Guldur to Mordor there had been little to occupy Vanaria's daughter's
attention. Through the green plain
lands of the Rohirrim there had at least been the prospect of a chase, possibly
even a skirmish, something that the red blooded and bloodthirsty Valimar longed
for. The half elf wished to prove
herself on the field of battle, for although acclaimed in the practice yards
she had seen no action yet. "If I prove
myself a great warrior," thought the motherless girl, "then my father will
acknowledge me openly. If I show myself
to be powerful at magic then, maybe I will become his mouthpiece or even
greater."
The girl believed that only through some dramatic action, as
the fanciful are want to do, would she be acknowledged and then meet her
mysterious and powerful father. Subsequently she now strove for perfection, she
could be a warrior (although her temper required some work), the mouthpiece
believed that Valimar had the potential to be a scholar and now she was to be
tested as a magic user. Vanaria's
daughter resolved to be good at this too; she would become sorceresses worthy
of her father. Unconsciously the half
elf's hand strayed to her studded collar and she clutched it with resolve. The spikes pressing painfully indenting her
elegant hand with pressure marks, but this passed unnoticed until one began to
bleed. As the half elf became conscious
of blood welling in her hand her eyes narrowed, irises flickering golden as the
pupils contracted. The girl raised her hand and regarded it with a cool and
measured gaze. It was a typical fine
boned elven hand, narrow and long-fingered, graced by the golden ring of her
mother but marred by calluses on the fingers, from sword practice, and a slight
cut on the palm from gripping her collar too tightly.
The girl looked at her blood with interest as it began to
run across the palm, the ruby richness following the contours of the lines to
rest in the cup of her palm. As she
regarded her blood Valimar resolved to become worthy of her father's
acknowledgment and then clenched her fist, letting her blood fall to the
ground. "I will be worthy," swore the
girl, binding this oath to the earth with her blood. In truth the girl did not realise the extent of her oath but her
heart was strong and she would strive for the acknowledgement that she so
craved.
Her hope was still strong when the party guarding the girl
arrived at the Tower of Sorcery. The beauty of the Minas Morgul impressed the
Vanaria's daughter, for there was some. This fortress was far greater than Dol Guldur with many pinnacles
piercing the overcast sky. These
fortress towers still held some of the beauty bestowed upon them by their
original creators and though this elegance was greatly at variance with the
crude extensions and additions, incorporated by the men and orcs stationed at
the tower. Yet somehow the minuets
maintained their architectural splendour. As they rode through the main gate Valimar craned her head backwards to
view the tower better, always conscious that this would be her new home. Here, she promised herself, she would be
happy.
The Dol Guldur party entered the gates or the tower without
question or challenge. The ancient
watcher knew that these were not foes. Then the group that accompanied the master's daughter waited in the
first courtyard to be greeted. Valimar
fidgeted with impatience causing her steed to skitter about the courtyard, much
to the amusement of the low soldiery watching the newcomers. However the wait was not long and the Dol
Guldur guard were honoured by being greeted by the Lord of the Tower
himself. He approached the party with
no ceremony, clad in a black hooded cloak that hid all features and indeed
aspects of his person. From this
covering it was impossible to tell whether he be a stocky and healthy knight or
not. "Indeed", Vanaria's daughter
considered, "one did not know whether he be alive or dead".
The hooded one paused in front of the half elf. "I be alive my master's daughter and you are
his charge to me." The voice was
melodious and range clear and true from the face hidden within the black
hood. A beautiful and seductive voice,
the romantic Valimar half fancied herself in love with the owner, yet then the
hooded one cast it from his face and the terribleness' of his aspect was
seen. No face was there, only shadow
upon which appeared to rest a crown.
Unconsciously Valimar shrank from the creature in front of
her that read her thoughts. The Lord of
the Nazgul smiled, an unpleasant sight, for though he was a creature only of
shadow the smile created added depth in that darkness. The half elf felt as if the very air around
her had gained an indescribable coolness. Vanaria's daughter felt fear.
The fearsome creature approached the girl and her guard
melted away from her, none daring to be close to the lord. With difficulty Valimar held her
ground. "So girl," the lord began, "you
are here. Good. Now my master's daughter your real training
shall begin. I understand from the
Mouthpiece that you have some ability both at arms and in the arts."
Vanaria's daughter smiled and nodded her head in
acquiescence.
"Good," continued the dark one. "First you must show me your skill at arms. We go to the training ring. Follow me." As the entire party made to move
the black cloaked one shook his head, "Only you girl."
Valimar felt a sliver of fear pierce her as she dismounted
from her horse and followed the lord. She knew that she had been purposefully separated from her companions,
even if she cared little for them, and the isolation scared her. Nevertheless Vanaria's daughter was not one
to show fear easily, after all she had spent all of her life at Dol Guldur and
many horrors could be seen there. So
resolving to keep calm and keep her head the girl followed the cloaked nightmare
deeper into the black fortress.
The Lord of Mordor led his master's daughter from the first
courtyard, down steps, dipped and smoothed with age, to the training ring. All guards that they passed stood straight
to attention. Valimar regarded them
keenly; they were as smart as the honour guard in Dol Guldur, well disciplined
and polished. Vanaria's daughter was
impressed for she saw that Minas Morgul had a well-run garrison. Yet even as the soldiery saluted the girl
was puzzled for she had yet to determine what was going on and what her
position would be her. It was obvious
that the guards saluted their lord, so where did that leave her? This the half elf, swiftly pushed from her
mind, for she must concentrate on what the hooded one wanted. Though still she
was puzzled how much the creature knew about her, for her father's mouthpiece
had not though to brief her on the current lord of Mordor. In time the girl would discover more about
her new instructor but for the moment she remained clouded in ignorance.
The training ring at Minas Morgul was one half again the
size of that at Dol Guldur. Similarly
it too was lined with sand, but here the sand was stained in places suggested
that bloodletting occurred frequently. Even the timbers of the fence that surrounded the ring and separated the
contestants with onlookers were blackened with blood. The half elf felt fear. This was not assisted when she viewed the two contestants in the
arena. They were well-muscled fighting
men and fought with skill. Their bout was only declared over when first blood
was shed, and then one was returned to a cage off to the side of the ring. In this cage several other men stood,
obviously slaves from their mean clothing. The girl shivered, she felt ill omen about this place.
The Lord of Mordor, turned to Valimar calling her attention
back to him, "Come girl" he began, "I would see your skill at arms." Then the
black-cloaked one turned from her and motioned at a man by the slave cage to
let one into the ring.
Valimar made preparations for this training bout. The girl removed her heavy travel cloak, to
cries and wolf whistles from those assembling to watch the bout. The onlookers cried lewdly as it became
apparent that a girl would fight and informed the slave to "give her a good
one" and other much cruder statements. Yet the catcalls ceased and all fell silent as the lord held up a hand
as Valimar stepped into the ring. Clad
in a tunic and riding boots with her sword sheathed across her back in cavalry
fashion the half elf paced to the centre of the arena. The girl watched the slave intently her
strange yellow eyes glowing.
"Demon," muttered the slave, he had never seen such eyes
before. Valimar narrowed her eyes and unsheathed her sword in response.
As the black-cloaked monster lowered his hand the slave
attacked. Valimar sidestepped and swiftly slashed at the slave's neck. She motioned drawing her blade across his
throat just one inch from it and cried, "Your dead," her voice jovial for this
obvious victory should signal the end of the spar. Yet the slave retreated several paces and then rushed towards the
girl. Valimar was confused, surely the
bout was over, it was obvious that she could defeat this opponent, yet no halt
had been called. This time the half elf
kicked the knife from his hand even as he thrust it towards her and then
squarely kicked him in the neck. The
knife was sent spinning as Valimar motioned stabbing the slave in the stomach. "You're dead," called the half elf again,
looking towards the lord of Mordor, waiting for him to halt the bout. But the black-cloaked one just nodded,
causing the slave in front of Valimar to close his eyes with despair. Confusion
was written on the girls face as she looked at her new instructor with
puzzlement. "What did he mean by
nodding? Was the bout over?" The girl
sincerely hoped so, there was no challenge in this opponent.
"Kill him," pronounced the lord of the Nazgul.
On hearing this Valimar started back from the slave, she had
thought this was just a training bout and had never taken a life before. The
girl was unwilling. As the half-elf
hesitated the slave, lying prostrate on the sand at her feet kicked her legs
causing the girl to fall. Once his
opponent had fallen the slave scrabbled across the sand to reach his
knife. As the man collected his blade
from it's resting place the half elf stood up and faced him, positioning
herself in a fighter's crouch. The
slave came at Valimar with raised blade. The girl nimbly deflected it and kicked the slave to the ground. He fell heavily and lay still upon ringside
sand. Valimar turned from the ragged-clad man prostrate on the floor, to
address the Lord of the Nazgul.
"My Lord," she began, "I see no point…"
Unbeknownst to the girl the slave had regained possession of
his knife and lunged towards the girl. The steel of the knife glinted in a rare sunbeam as he leapt. Yet even as the man lunged towards Vanaria's
daughter's unprotected back flame flared from the master of the towers palm, it
engulfed the slave and he fell writhing onto the sand of the fighting ring's
floor. Valimar's eyes widened with
surprise and more than a glint of fear was visible as she turned and regarded
the body behind her.
"I will not save you again girl," called the Lord of the Nazgul.
Valimar gazed at the body of the man behind her, the scent
of roasting flesh pervading her nostrils. Vanaria's daughter wrinkled her nose with distaste. "Listen to me girl!" barked the black
cloaked one, "from now on you will kill in these bouts or be killed. Mercy is of no use to the master." The Lord of the Nazgul turned from the half
elf and addressed one of the slavers to the side of the fighting ring. "Put another
into the ring with her."
Valimar's eyes widened, she had paid heed to that which the
black cloaked one told her. He now
expected her to kill. "Master," she
cried, "Am I not to be a sorceress, not some common warrior? Why need I kill some poor slave to satisfy
your blood wish?"
The Lord of the Nazgul regarded the girl from deep within
his hood. "You do it girl because I
command it," he stated his voice low, cold and dripping venom. "I say you shall kill and so you shall! For
you to ever command girl, you must first be feared, learn this lesson well."
The black cloaked one gestured to a slaver, "Another," he called. The slaver obeyed and thrust an unfortunate
into the ring.
This slave was well muscled and a veteran of many bouts
between the slaves. He had never seen
the demon-girl and but having watched her fight in the previous bout was not
unaware of the risk before him. The
yellow-eyed one had a speed, the like of which he'd never seen before, yet
there was still a chance. The slave knew the girl would be unwilling to kill
him and should he kill her he'd be slain but would live a little longer. The slave vowed to fight
whole-heartedly. He bent and thrust a
hand into the sand of the ring, grabbing a handful. The man then dusted both palms ready for a better grip on his
short sword, a narrow and notched blade. He moved his head from side to side and rotated his shoulders, preparing
for the fight.
At the other side of the ring Valimar regarded the slave's
preparations, as she tucked her loose hair behind her ears. "I have no wish to kill him," she shouted to
the Lord of Nazgul. The dark cloaked
one regarded her impassively. "Agh!"
Vanaria's daughter spat, "this is not what I wish to do."
The slave watched the girl and frowned, "What makes you
think you can kill me, demon-girl?" He
was angry at her assumption.
Valimar growled, her lip curling up and then attacked. She thrust an upper cut towards at his torso
and the slave jumped back to avoid it. He then slashed his short sword at her ankles. With uncanny speed the girl jumped avoiding his blade. As she jumped she thrust downwards. Ruby drops stained the sand of the training
ring. The crowd were hushed as the
slave's body fell, the thump as it landed audible. Valimar looked at the Lord of the Nazgul, her golden eyes
flashing cold-fire.
Beneath his hood the dark-one smiled, "That was not too hard
girl, was it?"
Valimar turned her face from him angrily, growling with
distaste she thrust a hand through her hair in frustration. The half-elf had had no wish to kill the
slave and felt no pleasure in doing so. His blood was on her hands. Vanaria's daughter felt unclean and now regarded the black cloaked one
with hatred.
"Killing is not difficult," smilingly stated the dark-one
still hidden in his cloak, "Is it girl?"
Valimar snarled with distaste answering, "No my lord. There
is no challenge in killing."
The Lord of the Nazgul smiled, "I think you lie Valimar." He
regarded the half-elf before him acutely. "You have no wish to kill and you disliked doing so, these are
weaknesses that the Master can do without." Again he addressed a slaver, "Another slave to the ring."
Upon hearing this Valimar threw her sword to the floor. "I do not wish to fight!" stormed the girl,
fury blazing from her eyes.
The Lord of Mordor addressed the slaver again, as he whirled
the black cloak around himself in impatience, "Another slave!" he called. Another slave was thrust into the ring with
Valimar. This slave was armed with a
short sword too and he realised that his plight was desperate for he was caught
in a battle of wills between the black one and this demon-eyed girl. The slave resolved to attack straight away
even though the girl's sword lay on the arena sand.
As the slave attacked the half elf spun from him, her elven
speed easily allowing her to outdistance him. "Have you no honour," she cried disgusted with the man facing her. At Dol Guldur there had always been a level
of decency between the sparring cadets and allowing both opponents to start
with weaponry had been one such measure.
The slave pressed forward, confident in attack against an
unarmed girl. "What does one such as
you know of honour Devil?" he asked of Vanaria's daughter as he raised his
sword once more against the weaponless girl.
Valimar growled low and threateningly, her amber eyes
narrowed briefly as she summoned her blade, using the words the mouthpiece had
taught her. Across the ring the sword
flew towards the amber-eyed magic user.
The Lord of Mordor smiled in amusement. "It's true,"
considered the black cloaked one, "the master's daughter does have potential,
but she needs instruction." The Lord of
the Nazgul watched with a level of assessment as the girl caught the sword hilt
with ease. He saw the moment the slave
backed from her in fear and Valimar pressed forward and was pleased. The girl was passionate and ill disciplined
enough to become a useful tool. With
enough work she could even command lesser armies and assist in the rule of the
master's domain. "Yes," thought the leader of the nine, "this one will be of
value," and then returned his attention to the fight beneath him.
Valimar was furious and fought viciously, easily
out-classing the malnourished slave she faced. Time and time again she had the opportunity to strike him down but she
did not seize the opportunity, the girl had no wish to kill. Eventually the slave saw an opening and
slashed at the half elf's arm. Valimar
was not able to fully deflect the blow and the slave's blade nicked her skin. The girl's golden eyes narrowed at the pain
and then Vanaria's daughter felt a red mist fall over her vision. She attacked the slave and within two
strokes he lay dead at her feet.
The daughter of gentle Vanaria pulled her blade from her
opponent's body with a savagery that would shock her elven kin. She wiped it callously on the rags of the
dead slave, sheathed it and then stood and faced the black-cloaked one
impassively, no emotion visible on her face.
"You'll do girl," hissed the Lord of Mordor and then turned
and walked into the main tower of Minas Morgul.
Valimar watched the black-cloaked one go. She stood motionless in the centre of the ring, feet firm on the stained sand, bronze hair flowing across her shoulder as the wind fingered the loose tendrils of hair, the only indication that she was not carved of stone. There the daughter of Vanaria stood, newly introduced to Mordor and with her clothes splattered by the blood of her second kill, the half-elf's induction into the Dark Lord's service had begun.