Chapter 7:

Irideth remained silent and frozen as Sauron carried her through many dark halls before ascending an intricately carved onyx staircase.

"These are the upper levels of the fortress, where my chambers are housed. You will be staying in a room adjacent to mine and will get to know this area well," Sauron said as he walked along. Irideth managed a nod and nothing else in response to that.

Sauron finally came to a set of double doors at the end of a long hallway and adjusted his grip on Irideth so he could push them open with one arm. When he did so, irideth had to look around for a few seconds in awe. She had never seen such luxury in her life.

Most of the room was taken up by a large canopied bed draped in red silk, with pillows that looked to be made of the same material except that they were black. A large rug covered the rest of the floor. A chandelier made of patterned steel hung in the center of the room. At the right hand side of the room were a wooden chair and desk, with several piles of papers stacked neatly on top. There was also a hand-carved wardrobe, table and vanity set, finer than anything her father had ever crafted. Just off to the left of the bed were two leather chairs set in front of a large hearth. Behind one of the chairs was another door, again very finely carved.

"This is my room," Sauron said, setting Irideth down on her feet. "Your quarters are just through there," he said, indicating the door on the left.

There was a pause, just long enough that it would have been deemed awkward in pretty much every other situation. Irideth glanced hesitantly up at Sauron, who arched an eyebrow at her.

"Well?" He said. "Go and take a look."

Irideth swallowed thickly, then nodded and walked over to the door, having to stand nearly on tiptoe to reach the handle.

When the door swung open, Irideth could barely do more than blink in astonishment.

The room she was looking into was nearly as luxurious as Sauron's own. It was simpler, most certainly, but barely less luxuriant for it.

There was a single full-sized bed tucked into the back right corner with a pair of white pillows and grey linen sheets and blankets. The bed was finely carved and lacquered. At the foot of the bed was a small desk and chair set, facing the wall. At the right side of this was a small bookcase A copper bathing tub was resting at the far left corner of the room, behind a fireplace and small cooking pit that dominated that side of the room.

Expecting this to be some sort of trick, Irideth spun around, fully expecting to see the Dark Lord smirking maliciously at her. Instead she saw him standing the doorway speaking with a lean young woman wearing a sky blue dress with a simple white apron. The thing that caught Irideth's attention was the fact that, underneath locks of light brown hair, the woman wore a leather collar with a single red gem in a silver setting resting beneath her chin.

As though sensing her attention, Sauron returned his gaze to her.

"This is Halla," he said, indicating the woman beside him. "She will assist you in bathing and preparing for dinner. I have other business to attend to, but I will see you later this evening." With that the Dark Lord turned and swept out of the room, leaving Irideth alone with Halla.

Irideth met Halla's surprised gaze for only a moment before ducking her head and staring at the floor. She heard the woman sigh, then startled when she felt gently hands on her shoulders turning her back into… she guessed it was her room now.

"Come on then, little one. Let's get you cleaned up," Halla said, guiding Irideth over to the bed and lifting the child onto it. Irideth fixed her gaze to the floor and kept it there as Halla grabbed a bucket to begin drawing water for a bath.


Sauron sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose as he leaned back in the chair in his office. He understood Murazor's reasoning in reporting the child to him, but at the same time… why? Sauron was named "Gorthaur the Cruel" for very good reason, but he'd never taken any pleasure in harming children. It was something that had puzzled Melkor exceedingly about his lieutenant, but even then Sauron had been adamant about not harming youngsters.

Murazor knew this, which was probably the only reason he'd gone after the girl immediately upon realizing her… oddities. None of the wraiths were particularly disposed to the mistreatment of children, either, and if Murazor had thought his master would harm the girl he would not have attempted to capture her in the first place.

Even after all these years, the trust his Captain placed in him astounded Sauron.

Of course the child- Irideth, Sauron recalled- knew none of this. It was plain as day that the girl was terrified of him, and her situation was making her utterly miserable. Sauron, of course, couldn't fault her for that in any way, but he didn't want her feeling such utter despair. From what he'd seen in her memories, Irideth was a clever, vibrant and energetic child, traits he'd always appreciated in his slaves in the past; it was a refreshing change from the dullness of the orcs. Sauron had always treasured bright things, after all.

But how the get the girl over her fear, while at the same time keeping her from running away?

Caring for her was the foregone conclusion. There was a problem, of course; Sauron knew essentially nothing about caring for human children. Wolves and dogs weren't a problem, but human young and the amount of effort that went into their rearing had always baffled Sauron.

He'd have to talk with Murazor; he seemed to know a little bit about dealing with children, given that the girl had looked at least marginally more comfortable in his arms than Sauron's.

Sauron's gaze moved to the Palantir resting on its pedestal beside his desk. Curumo – Saruman, as he insisted on being called now- was late on reporting his progress in converting his fellow Istari again. Perhaps, Sauron mused, now was the time for a little bit of intimidation.

When he'd walked over to the stone and placed his hands on it, however, Sauron found his mind once again drawn back to the girl and that strange emptiness he'd felt when trying to see her fea. A being completely lacking a fea was unheard of, and from what Sauron had witnessed in Melkor's experiments with elves and orcs, a fea couldn't be destroyed, either. Twisted quite horribly, yes, but not destroyed. So what was the explanation for the girl's apparent lack of a soul?

Noise from the Palantir drew Sauron's gaze to the orb; the stone, having sensed his thoughts, was projecting an image of Irideth sitting in the slaves' mess with Halla. Irideth was sitting at the edge of the table, fiddling with a spoon in an as yet untouched bowl of gruel. She would allow a blank smile to slip onto her face whenever the others around her would laugh about something or other, but when their attention was not on her the smile would fall from her face and she would return to staring at the table or fiddling with her food.

Sauron frowned. According to Murazor's report, Sauron's sleeping enchantment had lasted for nearly three days; she should be hungry enough to eat a horse at this point. Although considering the emotional distress Sauron had sensed when delving into her mind, he supposed that she would probably find eating a little difficult.

That being said, she needed to eat something or she would collapse from hunger. Removing his hand from the stone, Sauron walked over to the door and opened it.

"Send orders to the kitchen to have a bowl of broth and some bread sent to my chambers," he ordered the servant standing by the door. The man looked puzzled, but nodded his head and trotted off to do as he'd been told.

Sauron, meanwhile, turned his attention to his desk. Walking over to it, he opened a drawer on the top right side and pulled out a long, fine-linked silver chain.

He highly doubted the leash was entirely necessary at this point, given how frightened the girl was of him, but at the same time he wouldn't put it past her to try and sneak away at some point; best to get her used to this now, until he was confident she wouldn't try to run away.

Looping the chain around his right hand, Sauron left his office and began the long downward trek to the slaves' mess. The halls of Barad-Dur were dark and mostly abandoned at this hour; the only ones still awake were the palace slaves, the servants and a few overseers plus the tower guard. This suited Sauron just fine. Anyone who saw him presently would know what the chain in his hand meant and the story would be all over the fortress by noon tomorrow. And of course everyone would be curious about their Lord's choice of slave.

Such attention was the last thing Irideth needed.

Finally, after descending many staircases and crossing through many halls, he had reached the slave's mess. Light shone out into the hall, and laughter occasionally echoed off the walls. Sauron drew the hood of his cloak over his head to hide his rather distinctive red hair from the light of the flames, then stepped into the entryway.

Thankfully Irideth was sitting closest to the door, still focused on the table. Halla was trying in vain to coax the child to eat something while their fellows at the table talked and laughed together, having decided to give the girl a bit of space to adjust.

Using a spell so that only his intended target would be able to hear him Sauron called softly, "Irideth."

The girl stiffened for the briefest instant before turning to face him with widened eyes.


Irideth barely kept from shouting in alarm when she heard Sauron's voice behind her. Turning about, she was faced with the sight of the Dark Lord standing in the doorway. Then the torchlight glinted off the chain in his hand and Irideth swallowed thickly.

Sauron gestured for her to go to him and, hesitantly, she obeyed. When she stood roughly two feet in front of him, Irideth stopped and tilted her head back, offering easier access to the 'training collar' Halla had affixed around her neck earlier.

Sauron smiled gently, looking pleased. "Good girl," he murmured, reaching forward and attaching the end of the chain to a small iron ring at Irideth's throat.

When he turned Irideth quickly fell into step behind him, but Sauron kept the chain slack; he didn't jerk her along as she'd expected.

Sauron led her through so many halls and up so many stairs Irideth despaired of ever learning her way around the fortress. As they moved through the upper levels Irideth began to feel lightheaded, stumbling every now and then. By the time they'd reached Sauron's rooms she was having trouble keeping her feet.

Sauron, apparently having picked up on her worsening physical condition, turned around and scooped her up in his arms after opening the door.

To Irideth's surprise, a small dining table had been set up at the foot of the bed. Two chairs were positioned at one end, and on the table rested a bowl of broth and a plate with a few slices of bread.

Sauron carried her over to one of the chairs (one with a cushion on it so she could actually see over the top of the table) and set her down, removing the chain as he did so. Then he sat next to her at the head of the table, fixing her with a stern look.

"Consider this an order, if you will," Sauron said. "You are going to eat as much of this as you are able, and then you are going to bed; we have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."

Irideth was so stunned she couldn't speak or move for several moments. She didn't know what she had expected, but Sauron ordering her to eat dinner and go to bed was not it.

Breaking from her stupor and realizing said Dark Lord was still watching her expectantly, Irideth felt heat rise in her cheeks.

"Umm… I'm not… hungry. My Lord," she hastened to add, casting her eyes downward.

"Yes, you are. You are simply too distressed to realize it."

Irideth, startled by the suddenness of the reply, jerked her head up to meet Sauron's gaze.

"You have been under a sleeping enchantment for the better part of three days; most in your position would feel ravenous upon waking. Your emotional distress, however, is making you feel too sick to realize that you need to eat," Sauron said.

Irideth ducked her head again; he was probably right, but her stomach was roiling so much she wasn't sure she'd be able to swallow anything without throwing up. Still, she forced herself to sit up again, taking the bowl of broth in her hands and lifting it to her lips taking a few hesitant sips.

The broth was actually very good; savory beef spiced with something Irideth couldn't identify, but she could only manage four swallows before she could feel her stomach begin to protest. She set the bowl down as quickly as she could without spilling anything, and was met with the sight of Sauron nodding in approval. Slightly encouraged, Irideth grabbed one of the smaller pieces of bread, nibbling at it at first, then finishing it in a few bites. She managed to eat two more slices of bread and finish half the bowl of broth before her stomach felt sated, on the edge of being sick.

"Very good, Irideth," Sauron praised quietly when she pushed the bowl of broth away and glanced hesitantly over at him. When she blinked questioningly, he elaborated, "When I give you an order, I expect you complete it to the best of your ability."

Irideth, very suddenly reminded of her new status, swallowed thickly and nodded. She tensed, letting out a small yelp when Sauron's hands fastened around her waist and she was lifted up and into his lap.

"Peace now," Sauron said when he felt her trembling, bringing a hand up to card through her hair again. "I will not harm you."

Irideth seriously doubted it, but she screwed her eyes shut and allowed Sauron to do as he liked. True to his word, though, Sauron did nothing to harm her; he didn't even try to read her mind again. Eventually Irideth found herself being stroked into a quiet doze; she didn't even register that she'd relaxed into Sauron's embrace until she heard his quiet chuckle. She felt that she should sit up, distance herself from him, but she just couldn't find the strength to do so.

"That's it. Go to sleep, my little one," Sauron murmured, continuing with his carding, even beginning to hum softly to her.

In a few minutes, Irideth did just that.


Darkened skies. A black dragon, red eyes full of rage, maw opened wide to swallow her whole. A man with skin pale as the snow, eyes also glowing a malevolent red, with teeth as sharp as a wolf's. A cat-like woman, smiling at her and holding out a hand as if to say, "Come run with me."

And then it all fades to black.

There is a flash of poison green light, and there he is.

The man in the golden mask.

His back is to her this time; he is speaking with a pair of those tentacled creatures and then he turns toward her and roars, and his being becomes enveloped in a red-blue glow. He roars again, and Irideth screams as pain, agonizing, soul crushing pain rips right through her body, her very being. The man's mask, where his eyes should be, seems to glow brighter. But, for the first time, he speaks.

"I will devour your soul, Dragonborn."


In her bed in Barad-Dur, Irideth jerked awake with a scream.