For Better or For Worse

Erishnak was laughing with happiness as he went down the alley where Záhovar had rode with him earlier. It seemed now like that happened an age ago. He almost couldn't believe that his greatest dream had actually come to pass, Gothmog would take care of him, Záhovar would protect him and no one would ever dare to hurt him again!

When he came to the entrance of the stables he noticed a big ugly rat sitting in a corner, eyeing him warily. He made a wicked little grin, deciding to try out his newly found strength. Baring his small fangs, he leapt towards the rat and tried to growl menacingly as he had seen his father do. It sounded a bit awkward, but the rat squeaked and disappeared into a hole in the stable wall. Erishnak giggled at the rat, feeling almighty, having no thought about the fact that it might be dangerous for him here.

"Well well, what do we got here," a voice behind him said. The smile on Erishnak's face died. "The little runaway I think!" A strong hand pinched his ear and twisted it, making him yowl with pain. Erishnak was spun around to face his furious mentor.

"Let me gooo!" he yelled.

"Oh no, little imp. Not this time. Where the hell have ye been?! I've been lookin' all over the place for ya! An' ye know ye'r not allowed to be in the stables!"

"Trying to make me believe you care for me?"

"Shut up!" He was quieted by a slap. "Answer me!"

Instead of answering Erishnak did his best to get loose so he could run. The mentor pushed him up against the stable wall.

"Answer me!" he growled into Erishnak's ear. Erishnak tried to call for help, but that was only rewarded with another slap.

"Answer me! Where have you been?"

"W-with my father."

"Don't try to fool me. He wants nothing to do with you. Answer me!"

"But it is the truth!!" Erishnak yelled. "It IS true! He do want with me to do, an' I've told him 'bout all that you've done to me, and he will kill you for it!!!"

The mentor hesitated for a moment, then he hit Erishnak again.

"And I," he whispered into Erishnak's ear, "will kill you for slandering."

Erishnak tried to scream, but the mentor placed his hand over his mouth and nose, making it impossible for him to breathe.

"You better not scream," he hissed furiously, "or I'll make ye suffer, oh yes..."

Erishnak began to feel dizzy. 'Must... Breathe...' he thought, and his struggles became weaker. Then help came, from the most unusual way.

***

Gothmog groaned, leaning his head into his good hand. The 'peacemaking' had not gone very well, they had even been forced to execute some of the worst troublemakers before the whole thing died down. Now he was angry and had a terrible headache.

"Damn idiots... Failure in command, my ass! Bloody uproar, at least..." Then he remembered that he had to leave a report on the whole thing too. "Shit." That thought gave him an even worse headache. Not because of the report itself, he had done that a lot of times, but he had to figure out a way to save his own neck and make it sound like he had nothing to do with it. In fact he didn't have anything to do with it, but you could never be too sure when it came to the Nazgûl.

He suddenly got a wish to kill every living thing in Dushgoi, and growling to whomever happened to look upon him eased the pain a bit. Záhovar! She could help him, she was good at... ehrm... 'Delegating' responsibility when things went wrong.

***

Nagîthas hated orcs. She had been one of the Mearas, the finest, fastest and strongest horses in Middle-Earth. When she was a small foal she had run freely upon the open plains of Rhûn with her mother and the rest of the herd. Then the orcs had killed her mother and captured her, forced a horrible bridle around her head and beaten her with sticks and fists. Then he had been brought to Mordor, where she had first become tainted and given to Záhovar. She didn't remember the sound of water or the taste of fresh grass, but she never forgot the fists and the sticks.

When she heard noises in the door she let out an irritated snort. Who dared disturb her? That smell... Orcs! Rage welled up inside her and she let out a growling neigh. She stroke her ears back against her neck and bit the iron bars that were fastened in the wall to serve as a window. Then she noticed a choked, whimpering sound. She recognised that voice.. It must be the young orcfoal that her mistress had found outside the city. Nagîthas hated orcs, but she was strongly attached to her rider, and would rather die than upset her. And perhaps, helping this little one could help her in some way in the future.

Nagîthas stepped up against the opposite wall and then, with all the might of her rage and anguish, she crashed into the wooden planks and iron bars of the stable wall, leaping through it.

The mentor let go of Erishnak when the furious horse came flying through the wall. Nagîthas pranced, screaming in fury and kicked him so that he fell, hitting his head on the floor. She finished it with a hard kick in the ribbons. The mentor slid away to the opposite wall, then all was silent. Nagîthas made sure he wouldn't move again, then she went over to Erishnak.

Erishnak had crept into a pile of hay and curled into a ball there when his tormentor had let go of him. All confidence he had felt earlier was gone. He was the smallest weakling in the whole world, and that rat he scared earlier probably sat in some corner now, laughing at him. But he heard nothing. Outside the hay pile everything was quiet. Too quiet.

Nagîthas stood still, towering over the hay pile and waiting for the small one to come out. When a long time passed and no sign of life came, she snorted and began removing the hay to see if there was anything below.

***

"I will help you," Záhovar said. She and Gothmog stood on the top of a stair leading down from the main gate of the Tower, discussing the events of the day. "But remember that you owe me two times now, for this event and for saving the life of your way too curious son."

"Yeah, I know." Gothmog scratched his head. "Talkin' about son, have ye seen him? Should've been here by now."

"Perhaps he stopped to look at the clouds? Isn't that what he used to do?"

"Yeah..." Gothmog sighed. Then he noticed the scorn in Záhovar's voice. He turned towards her. "Tryin' to tell me he acts way too much like your old people?" Immediately he had to dodge Záhovar's sharp claws hissing past his cheek.

"I have no people!" she hissed furiously.

"Yeah yeah! I know," Gothmog said quietly.

"You should be more careful, Gothmog," Záhovar said ominously. "I certainly do not have to help you as much as I have done, and I could easily retake your debt to me in blood instead."

Gothmog took a step back. "N-n-now there, my Lad- I mean Lord. C-can't we make an agreement of some kind?" The ghost of a smile passed over Záhovar's pale face. "I said that I could, never that I actually would."

Gothmog looked relieved. Záhovar lifted her head smelling the soft breeze, last descendant of the wind that blew along the shores in the far West, which passed through the cursed valley before disappearing into the Black Land over the mountains.

"It will soon be morning. Come, let's go find that son of yours before he looses his mind completely among the clouds," she said and began walking down the stair.

***

Erishnak didn't want to get up. He wanted to stay hidden in that hay pile for the rest of his life. But when the huge black horse bit his tunic by the neck, lifted him into the air and began shaking the life into him, he didn't have much of a choice. Nagîthas snorted, blowing hot air inside Erishnak's tunic until he squealed, barely able to oppress the laughter. Nagîthas stopped blowing and put him down in the hay again.

Erishnak sat still, now and then taking a quick glance upwards before lowering his gaze again. It felt almost like the horse expected something from him, but he did not know what. Suddenly the huge horse buffed her head into his chest, and he fell over. Nagîthas snorted wildly and tossed her head towards her back. Erishnak scratched his head. What did it want?

Nagîthas snorted in frustration over the orcfoal's slow mind. She oppressed her anger and bit Erishnak's tunic by the neck, lifting him into the air again and then throwing him up onto her back. She had to toss him three times before the shaken orcling understood that he should grab her mane and climb up. Afterwards Erishnak lay on the huge horse's back, gasping for air.

Suddenly a loud moan was heard. Erishnak's mentor tried to sit up, but fell down again with a shriek when he realised that several ribbons were broken after Nagîthas kick. Nagîthas rumbled and turned to finish her work, but Erishnak softly pulled her mane to stop her.

"No, don't kill him!" he said. Nagîthas turned her head to look at the orcfoal. Was he mad, not wanting to kill the one who had caused him pain?

"I mean, don't kill him yet. My-my father swore to kill him for me. I don't want to disappoint him."

That figures. Nagîthas drew herself up, snorting in a condescending fashion. Then he turned abruptly and began to walk out of the stables. Erishnak who was not prepared for the horse turing so quickly, almost fell off but managed to pull himself up again.

Outside the stables the huge black mare pranced for awhile. Then she tossed her head and began trotting up the stone avenue. Erishnak began to wonder if it really had been a good idea, climbing onto the back of an unknown creature like this. Then he was forced to leave all such thoughts behind, as Nagîthas let out a piercing whinny and fell into a mad gallop.

Some corners away two snagas were pulling a cart filled with barrels of dried meat. They weren't at all prepared for a black horse skidding up onto the road at full speed some hundred feet away. Erishnak only got a glimpse of the snagas terrified looks as they threw themselves under the cart, just before Nagîthas leaped over it. He even managed to snatch a piece of dried meat as the horse went over it. He looked back, laughing out loud as the smaller orcs peeked out from beneath the cart. After he had gotten over the first fear at Nagîthas rush, he began to realise why humans kept horses. This was kind of a nice way of traveling. He straightened up a bit. Nagîthas noticed the change as took it as a sign to slow down to a more controlled gallop.

Suddenly Záhovar stepped out from behind a corner,right in front of Nagîthas.

"Stop!!" she called. Nagîthas stopped short, tossing Erishnak off her back and into the arms of Gothmog, who stepped out right after Záhovar. Gothmog was, however, not prepared for this and fell. Erishnak slowly got to his feet, laughing. But he stopped when noticing Gothmog's bitter look. He lowered his gaze, feeling ashamed. then he looked at Záhovar. As usual, no expression could be seen in her face, but she crossed her arms, drumming her fingers onto the armor. The gloves made a sinister sound. Being glared at from two directions made Erishnak feel like he had a huge load at his shoulders, and it suddenly appeared to him what he had done; stealing a High Officer's horse was no light crime.

Záhovar was just about to lay hands on Erishnak to give him hios rightful punishment when Nagîthas bit Erishnak's neck and pulled him out of her gaze. The horse puffed Erishnak's shoulder, then tossed her head.

"Erishnak," Gothmog growled. "What have you done now?"

"I-I... It.. It wasn't.."

"I do not think we need punish him," Záhovar said. "According to Nagîthas, this was not his fault." Gothmog gave her a look.

"That horse can talk?"

"No. But she can show."

"That's right," Erishnak said. "It wasn't my fault. My Mast- err, I mean mentor, tried to kill me. She saved my life. He pointed at Nagîthas. "And she almost killed him, too. But I asked her to save him for you. Guess he's still down there. He wasn't really able to walk when I last saw him." Erishnak giggled at the memory, but quickly quieted down when he saw Gothmog's expression. Gothmog looked from his son to the horse and back again. Then he nodded.

"Where?"

"The stables."

"Then let's go there. I've had more than enough of that bastard."

***

When they reached the stables, the mentor was being helped out by some snagas. Gothmog stopped in their way.

"You," he pointed at the snagas, "get out of here now. And drop that garbage." They let go of the other orc, who landed with a yowl of pain.

"Yeah, just go on. Squeal," Gothmog hissed. "You won't be able to do that when I'm finished with you." He grabbed the other orc's neck, pushing him up against the wall. the other squirmed, trying to get away.

"Ye can't kill me! I was chosen by the elders! I, err..." He got sight of Záhovar. "My Lord! Please, tell 'im he can't kill me! Master.. please!"

"My Lord," Gothmog said in a formal tone. "This infidel attempted to slay my spawn, my own flesh and blood. May I kill him, and claim my revenge?"

"I agree to thy wish, Warlord. Kill him." She pulled a finely crafted dagger from her belt and handed it to Gothmog. He took it from her with a grateful bow. Then he quickly spun around, stabbing it into the mentor's heart. The other orc's yell of pain turned into a gurgle as Gothmog slowly twisted it.

Erishnak was puzzled, and filled with conflicting emotions as his mentor's head dropped and body went limp. So this was it. Over. So fast... After all this time. He had never really been in such a close contact with death before. Of course he had seen people die, in this society people died every day. But he had never seen some one he had known die. And he had been a bit frightened when he saw the look on his father's face, and heard the blood chilling cry of victory. As they left the stables to get his stuff, he walked some paces behind, thinking about the whole thing.

He noticed Záhovar slowing her walk to come up side by side with him.

"You should not feel guilt for what you have seen," she said quietly. Erishnak looked up at her.

"I've never seen someone die so close up before," he said.

"The first time, perhaps, but not the last. Some day, if you are to live that long, you will be the one bringing death to others."

"I don't think so. I'm too small..." Záhovar smirked.

"Even the smallest person can change the course of the future. Be proud of who you are, instead of yearning for what you cannot be. It will not help anyway."

***

After Gothmog and Erishnak had got his things, and some other from his dead mentor, Záhovar invited them both to her room to tell them what had passed on the meeting with the Nazgûl, and what orders they had got.

"Everything is set in Lug-Bûrz now. It is time to arm the troups and prepare for the first strike."

"Where will it fall?"

"Minas Tirith. That cursed city is the only barrier to the West, you will only have to tear that down, and the West will fall."

"What about the horse men? And the Elves?"

"Dol Guldur will take care of the Elves. The horse people is nothing to worry about, they are so weak after the battle at the Deep. They will not come."

"Oh..."

"What is this about, really?" Erishnak asked. Záhovar gave him a look.

"The war, of course. The last war."

"Oh."

"You will both know more in time. And Gothmog, you will get clear orders once we are inside the Tath-Doraz*."

"We will go to Lug-Burz?" Erishnak straightened up. Záhovar looked at him with an expression that, if one looked really close, almost could be taken for a smile.

"Yes, you and Gothmog will come with me when I travel back. Gothmog can of course go alone, but I think it can be quite instructive for you to see the heart of this land."

"When will we go?" Gothmog asked. He too was anxious about this journey.

"The day after tomorrow. Some things must be prepared first."

"And now," Gothmog said, seeing Erishnak yawn, "I think it's time to go to bed. We've got a long day ahead." With that they left Záhovar's study.

***

As Erishnak laid on the thin leather mattress that was his bed and listening to his father's loud snores, he thought on what Záhovar had said earlier.

"Be proud of who you are, instead of yearning for what you cannot be," he whispered to the darkness. He smiled. It sounded good. 'I wish I could write, like the officers can,' he thought. 'Then I would write that down, and then forged an amulet or something and written it down onto it.' Soon he fell asleep, and dreamed of forging things, amulets, rings, magical jewels with great power.

___________

*Tath-Doraz - Tooth-Gate. Black Speech name for the Morannon, the Black Gates of Mordor.