Part 1
Bone numbing cold pierced the haze of unconsciousness. Her second waking was no less violent and painful as the first. The cold that seeped persistently from the flagstones had robbed her warmth, and she was dangerously cold. Her body shook with the effort to warm itself. Her head ached and pounded with the slightest movement. Confusion and fear sickened her as she tried to understand. Was being female so terrible that her maker had to punish her? Or had she done something wrong? Slowly her body warmed and she noticed the metal restraints fastened around her feet. The chains led to the wall and were securely bolted into the stone.
After realizing her chained state, a wave of regret filled her. Somehow she had failed her master. If she was being punished, then she would bear it with humility. Hours passed and the intense cold and darkness become ever more dense and suffocating. Her resolve was slowly worn away in the darkness. It brought back memories of how she had fought to rise as the waters that once had sustained her turned deathly. Her claws bit into her palms as she forced herself not to start howling. The primitive instinct so strongly developed within her, demanded she run, to fight, to be free of the terrifying darkness. Primitive fears fought like demons within her mind. Reason barely held.
Sleep and wakefulness blended together in a haze of never ending fear. It was the flicker of light from the master's staff and the torch her carried, that brought her instantly to full awareness. Robes luminous in the purity of the white light, her master entered the room. As quickly as her cramped limbs would allow her, she prostrated herself before him. Her face pressed to the floor, she waited for any sign that he would forgive her. There was nothing but the faint sound of his breathing. The cold of the floor began to numb her extremities and still yet nothing. The itch over her skin told her that he was staring at her. For what sign, she did not know.
"Get up," the cold voice ordered.
Scrabbling to comply, she risked glancing up at her master. His face revealed nothing. Quickly her gaze fell to the floor. A low chanting from her creator made her skin prickle. All to clearly she could remember the spike of panic that had ripped through her as she had been flung into the wall. Such powers were beyond her ken.
The first wave of pain came unexpectedly. Her body jerked and rippled with the wave. She barely had time to react before another followed. It felt as if she was being turned inside out one inch at a time. The cold face of the master looked down at her unfeelingly. As she writhed and choked in pain, he did nothing. Hurt and misery mixed with the pain. She had done nothing. Why did the master do this to her? If he punished her for something, what slight she had committed was beyond her comprehension. Fresh waves brought answers no nearer. What seemed like hours passed and then finally the pain ended.
"You are the flaw in what is otherwise a perfect work for the Lord Sauron. I will learn all I must so that your stain shall not spread," Saruman spoke and left.
Her first taste of humiliation was as ashes in her mouth. The master had reviled her. She deserved to be locked away. Even as she thought it, she felt a defiant flair of refusal. Was she truly flawed? Less that the perfection her master demanded? If she was less than perfect, did it matter? Her eyes dropped to look at her hands. The darkness made it near impossible to see, even with the torch, but her eyes were keen. When her eyes could not see, her memory filled in. Wicked black claws tipped her fingers. Already they had proved their worth. The fingers themselves were long and nimble but also strong. Her arms were sleek with muscle. In the dark she could feel their contours. Her legs too were long and able. Naked as she was, her body was bare to the eye. She knew nothing of being female, but she could find, nor remember, nothing particularly repulsive to her gaze. The sticky fluid that had been in the birthing chamber had clung to her skin and had dried. Surely that wasn't what the master had meant.
The master had been angry because she was female. Was being female so wrong? Again defiance flared. Anger was quick in its wake. She had done nothing. She could not help the way she was made. If her form displeased the master, then he was to blame. He had made her. Horror bubbled up at her disloyal thoughts. Such thoughts were beyond wrong. Everything she knew told her how wrong it was. The master was beyond reproach by creatures such as her. The master was perfect. It was then that she realized that she knew nothing more than what the man before her had placed in her mind. What was there, told her that it was good and that was all she needed to know. As much as her mind told her this, she could not let go of her disquiet over the fact. If she knew nothing other than what the master wished, how could she know anything for sure?
* * *
Saruman stalked away from the dungeon. The failure to find any clue to why the last Uruk-Hai was female galled him. The sniveling creature was trying his patience. Perhaps it would be wise to simply forget about it and let it starve to death. His better judgement quickly won over his temper. If he was to make more Uruk-Hai for his master, then he had to know how to avoid such complications. His continued life depended upon it. Looking out of a close by window, he could see the orcs continued work. The haze of fires and dust tainted the horizon. The sunset turned the sky into blood.
* * *
Time brought yet another discomfort to her situation. Hunger cared not if she slept or if she was awake. Dreams of food she had never tasted plagued her mind as she slept. Thoughts of sustenance filled her mind while she shivered. Thirst had tormented her until she licked moisture that had condensed on the cold stone walls. Twice more the master had come. Twice more pain had sent her contorting on the ground. Those times were longer than the first. During those time he had lost his temper and sent her crashing into the walls. She no longer groveled when he came. Instead she cowered in the corner. Self-hatred filled her, but she feared the pain more than she could hate her cowardice. No longer did she censor her thoughts. She did not care what she was supposed to believe. The master was wrong.
How many days she had spend in darkness, she did not know. Instinct told her it had been too long. Her well-muscled body had begun to waste. Cold and lack of food was beginning to make her ill. The chains locked about her ankle had rubbed her skin raw. This made her fear infection. As her condition worsened, the instinct of self-preservation grew stronger. If she was to survive, she had to do something. That something almost frightened her as much as the pain. Unlike the pain, however, it was a fear she had to conquer or die in the darkness.
With all of her considerable strength, she tried to pry away the metal shackle from her foot. Again and again she had struggled but the band remained stubbornly closed. Even if she was flawed, less that perfect, wrong or whatever the master thought, she wanted to live. She wanted to know more than what the master had placed in her mind. Angrily, she yanked at the chain, where it was attached to the wall. The links clanked and clashed but remained firm. Rage colored her vision red and she kicked and struggled. Metal screamed and fought back. The metal links bit her skin and the skin of her ankle bled. Exhausted, she dropped to the floor.
Panting with exertion, she vainly studied the chain for damage. There was nothing. Wetness dripped down her cheek to land on her hand. She realized she was crying. The tear glistened on her hand and it captivated her attention. Uruk-Hai weren't supposed to cry. Wiping the tear away, she bent to inspect her bleeding ankle. As she did so, her breath caught. The shackle had remained firmly closed but the chain that connected it had begun to part where the final link was closed about the shackle. Frantic with hope, she tried to pry the link open. The strong metal refused to budge. It taunted her with how little it would have to open to mean freedom. Grabbing the chain, she tried pulling but it was fruitless.
Unable to do succeed so close to being free, sent her heart aching. All she was told her to respond with force. Kick, pull and claw her way out but she'd tried that and instinct had given her nothing. The link was twisted. Her hands were strong but not strong enough to twist it further without leverage. Anger flared again but she forced it down. She had to puzzle it out and rage would only distract her. Frowning, she looked back at the chain. Could that provide what she needed. Snarling with the bitter humor of the imprisoning chain being her tool to freedom, she began twisting the chain. Her hands ached and burnt as the cold metal fought her. Twisted tightly, the chain resisted her efforts to turn it further. She knew her reserves were draining fast. Muscles aching she gave a final wrench. With a high pitched 'pling', the link snapped open and the chain fell limp to the floor.
For long moments, she simply stared at the chain. She was free. The idea was astounding. It meant she was leaving. The master would no longer be the master. She'd see the sun and eat food. There would be no more cold or darkness. Dumbstruck, she realized she would need a name.