I briefly wondered why it had shouted – although the word was not quite right – for silence when I had not uttered a single word. However, I realized a second later that he could magically – a hideous word to me from then on - read my thoughts, and I knew somehow that "he", was, in fact, a "he" and not an "it". I tried my best to stop thinking, but questions were floating around endlessly inside my mind; who is he? What is he? Can he hear me now? Will he still kill me?
And then he spoke, yes, spoke out loud in that horrible Voice of his.
'Not so hasty, child.' I perceived that he smiled, and I shivered. 'First, bow.'
I had never felt less like baring the back of my neck to someone, but I bowed low anyway. I would have done anything at that point just live a little longer.
'Now, tell me who you are.' He leant forwards and propped where his chin should be with his hand. It appeared as if he was quite interested in me, and I could feel the chill of his gaze as he concentrated. I scrambled around mentally, trying to remember who I was.
'I…ah….'the words stumbled on my tongue. I averted my gaze to the grey floor, still aware of his overwhelming presence in the room, vaguely wondering if he knew already. 'I am a-a citizen of Gondor.'
'Gondor.' He spat, and I jumped. The atmosphere of the room suddenly changed, and it felt filled with invisible wrath, so the torches flared and I could catch a glimpse of the figures in the gloom. I trembled in fear, expecting a sudden and bloody execution, but it was not so.
'Are you aware,' he said in a calmer tone, 'of the chief Enemy of Gondor?'
This was a surprise. 'Why, y-yes.' Did he not attacking Osgiliath – fruitlessly, I hoped – three weeks ago, and perhaps was attacking even now? 'He was the Witch-King of Angmar while he resided there, and is known as the Lord of the Nazgûl.' Then, a dreadful notion hit me. The being who sat before me, he was not the Witch-King, was he?
That is ridiculous, I reasoned. He is waging a war, or at least conducting a siege, in the south, and thus cannot be here.
Meanwhile, the being stood up and walked towards me. His great metal boots made a thoroughly fell cranking noise with every step he took, so I was mortified by the sound and could not back away like I desperately wanted to. When he stood –towered, he was very tall- in front of me, he knelt down on an armoured knee, so that our eyes were at the same level. I felt like a mouse, nay, an insect, facing a particularly sadistic cat. Though he was now as close as I never wanted him to be, there still was nothing distinguishable between his shoulders and his crown.
'Nay,' he said softly, as if talking to himself. 'The Witch-King is not the Enemy.' He looked at me with that interested expression again, and I had a feeling he was reading more than my current thoughts. After a pause, he said:
'I am.'
He beckoned me closer with a gauntleted hand, as if an arm's length of space was not close enough for his study. I noted with muted horror that the each finger was tipped with a wickedly sharp point. They would be enough to pierce flesh and bone, wouldn't they? My eyes slid to his other hand, and it was a moment before my mind registered anything.
He was missing a finger on his right hand.
Had I been able to recall the legend of Isildur and Elendil, I may have recognized this for what it was. However, at the moment it only served to give me a particularly brave and particularly stupid idea.
He could be hurt, I thought. He is not invincible.
Then, I did something more courageous than all that I have ever done and most of what I will ever do.
Summoning all of my will that remained to me, I stopped my arms from quaking and pulled out the knife. It came out of the sheath with a limp sort of whoosh, and stopped just short of his outstretched fingers. 'No closer,' I said in what was hopefully a calm and stoic voice. It came out in a weak cross of begging and whimpering tones.
And the dark one laughed. The fell sound rang through the hall, so loudly that my ears could not stand it. It was cruel, and evil, and everything I never thought could be used to describe laughter. He easily plucked the knife out of my shaking hands and, to my great surprise, returned it to its sheath. I was too frightened and shocked to prevent him, or even to pay more attention to this particular act. Finally, he stood up again, and I felt some momentary relief.
'Run,' he said, both out loud and in my mind, so that I desired to cover my ears in discomfort. 'Run, for it is all that you will ever do; though you will not get far.' I forced myself around and saw that the door I came through was open.
I ran for my life, and did not look back.
I was dimly aware of grey columns flying by and a hard, grey floor beneath my fleeting feet. However, when I had passed the black doors, a hand shot out of seemingly nowhere and grabbed me by the wrist. I was suddenly wrenched from my flight and almost fell. The hand that grabbed me, I found, was attached to he who accompanied me here.
He dragged me through a door to the left of the hall, and down a set of long, straight stairs. These were sticky with some unknown substance, and a nasty smell of decay flowed through the damp air. There was a hallway at the end of the stairs, and he led me into a small, bare room. The walls were spattered with something ominously dark. He shut the door behind us.
'Who is he?' I asked, as soon as the man turned around. 'What is this place?'
'He is known as the Necromancer,' he replied, and sounded much more comfortable than when I last saw him, 'although you may eventually learn of his other names.' He said all of this as if he expected me to know it already.
'But he told me he was the Enemy of Gondor!' I could feel a trace of hysteria in my voice, now that many realizations were beginning to surface. And the Final Alliance waged war against the Dark Lord, and won, albeit at great cost. Or something to that effect, as I remembered it. These tales of long ago still refused to be recalled completely, but this shred was enough.
'He has?' he looked quite relieved, almost happy. I could see nothing remotely joyful in the situation. 'Then I suppose you have guessed that he was the very Dark Lord of Mordor, who has now walked out of a legend?' And at that instant I knew this to be true, as incredible as it sounded.
'Then what am I doing here in his stronghold?' I asked with something bordering on panic. Then, I turned on him. 'You! You said that I would come to no harm, that I will be kept away from any evil! Filthy liar!' I drew my knife again, furious. He had, in the few moments, become the man I most loathed.
He appeared calm, and leant against the door. 'And indeed, you will not be harmed. The Lord has more glorious things planned, dear, than you will ever be able to fathom. I did not say that you would be kept from the dark like a spoilt treasure, only that you will not be delivered to the Witch-King.' Seeing my surprised expression, he continued with a smirk. 'You trust too much, dear. Trust too much, and assume too much. Even with the gifts you have, you manage to sink into situations much too deep for you.'
'And you? You led me knowingly into this, with your treachery and lies.' I pointed the knife resolutely at him.
'So?' He raised an eyebrow. 'I serve my Lord faithfully, I gather what he needs, and I will reap my reward in time.'
'What about Gondor?' I shouted, though he stood close. 'What about my mother? Where does your loyalty really lie?'
'I have told you.' He stated flatly, no longer retaining any trace of amusement. 'I serve my Lord.' In a swirl of his cloak he exited the room, and I lunged at him, only to have the door shut in my face.
I realized, too late as always, the strong wooden door had no handle or latch on the inside.
Author's Note: hope you have enjoyed this chapter! Sayre really is oblivious isn't she? Do you think Sayre's mother has an affair with the baker? Drop me a review, dear reader. Tell me my virtues, my faults, and your opinion.
Speaking of reviews, I would like to thank Dreamless Wind for being a faithful reviewer and general good author! Read her AU Rebirth now! It features the all-time heroes and Author Vesper's favourite Dark Lord!
P.S. I know it's Last Alliance. Sayre didn't.