If you are getting broken in the process of someone, quit. Some battles are best lost than won at your own cost.
The slap stings. Her cheek is burning red, Miwlir's crown has fallen to the ground.
"I told you to kill them all! I know the other Nazgul are simpletons, but from you daughter, I expected more." Miwlir'sfather is fuming, too angry to notice the unshed tears in his daughter's eyes.
And to think, he had gifted her her Fell-beast not so long ago. It had made her decide to stay by her father's side for a bit longer. But this thing in front of her, is not her father. It is an evil monster.
Her father had summoned her from her rooms from Minas Morgul, their walk outside silent but comfortable.
"It has come to my attention you have been sad about your mare drowning, daughter." The Witch-King says, his gaze searching his daughter's sullen face. "Though I am not one that is happy with your attachment to such a unimportant animal, I do think a mount and companion has it's uses."
It is the screeching that makes her look up. A Fell-beast is flying down, long wings making the air stir underneath it as it lands. "This pet is stronger and will be able to protect you much more. This is my gift to you, so forget about the mare and get your thoughts straight. The decisive battle is soon upon us."
Miwlir murmurs a thank you, and she knows her father might seem harsh, but he has never been sentimental. She knows what this means though. It is his way of making sure she is not too sad.
Her father leaves her as Miwlir approaches the Fell-beast, a small smile appearing on her lips.
And so comes her second most important companion in her life, Mihidh.
"Back down, Maradh." One of the Nazgul growls, as Maradh's hands begin to sizzle, smoke starting to rise.
"Yes, I am your daughter!" Miwlir finally screams back at her father, pushing him back. She finally snaps. "Not one of your servants or soldiers. Your flesh and blood!' Miwlir snarls back.
The view is much better from up here, Miwlir has to say. Her father had sent her and three others of the Nazgul to finish the men still battling the orcs.
"Retreat, retreat!" She can hear them calling from underneath her, Mihidh screeching as they follow the slew of galloping horses and running soldiers that are retreating to Minas Tirith.
Mihidh dives, snapping his teeth as he grabs a soldier and throws him away. She can hear the other Fell-beasts snarling and screeching, and she thinks she might just do a good job this time.
Until a light, so bright it blinds her, appears from in front of them. Miwlir grabs the reins and pulls them back, using her gloved hands to shelter her eyes.
Mihidh screeches, flying up and into the sky. Miwlir lets out a snarl, but follows the other Nazgul back to Mordor.
This time, Mithrandir has saved what was left of the army. And Miwlir knows, her father will not be happy.
"You are no longer my daughter if you are not even able to do as commanded." The Witch-King of Angmar snarls back, and Miwlir finally has had enough. Something breaks inside her, for good this time.
"Than do not expect me to do your dirty work.' Miwlir snaps back, but her voice is trembling. She grabs her crown and storms out of the room, Maradh on her heels.
She feels hollow that night, when she leaves. Once, the love she felt for her father was enough.
But now, that is long gone. She does not recognize him any longer, the Witch-King of Angmar is no longer the man she once called her father.
Maradh and Miwlir travel in silence, and the first rays of the morning appear by the time they reach Minas Tirith. Mihidh grabs Maradh's warg, careful not to hurt him.
The Fell-beast let's the animal go when they land on the highest level of the city, Maradh trying to ignore the soldiers that have surrounded them.
"Well, well, well..." Miwlir dismounts Mihidh, standing next to the Fell-beast that has curled around her. "What are you doing here, servant of Sauron?!' Gandalf calls out, but he stops in his tracks when he sees who it is.
"You..." Miwlir gives the wizard an unreadable look. "We have much to talk about, Mithrandir." The hafling next to Gand alf huffs, rolling his eyes.
"Really?" Maradh's gaze zeroes in on the hafling, eyes burning, making the hobbit step back. "If you want to win this war and win against my father, you would do well to listen."
"Your father?" The hobbit asks, eyebrows raising in curiosity. "The Witch-King of Angmar." Maradh supplies, stepping closer to the wizard and halfling until she and Miwlir are in front of them.
Gandalf hums, but there is no hostility in his eyes. "There is indeed a lot to talk about, Miwlir."