Chapter 9:
"Will she be all right?"
"I'd imagine so; she'll simply be feeling a little battered when she wakes up. She fought me tooth and nail even while unconscious."
Irideth did indeed feel like she'd just gone up against Rochanar and Amonthel during one of their rough-housing matches and lost quite badly. With immense effort she opened her eyes.
And found herself lying in Sauron's lap as he sat on his throne, all nine Nazgul gathered in a ring about them.
Uncertain about being the object of such interest, Irideth reflexively curled closer to Sauron, tucking her face into his chest. He laughed softly, bringing his arms up to wrap around her in a loose embrace.
"There's no need to be shy, my little one. None here wish you ill."
Irideth was surprised enough when the wraiths began to chorus their agreement to uncurl herself slightly and peer cautiously outward.
She was greeted with the sight of nine identical black-hooded heads peering down at her.
"I can't tell any of you apart," was the first thing to make it out of her mouth. "Except you, Murazor; you're tallest."
There was a pause before the wraiths all began laughing, much to Irideth's surprise.
"I told you she was a plucky little thing," Akorahil said.
"I like this one," an unfamiliar wraith said. This was followed by a mental introduction from Sauron to Hoarmurath, Ren and Indur.
Irideth barely suppressed a shudder at the reminder of her connection to the Dark Lord, and she flinched slightly when Sauron's hand came up to lightly trace the collar at her throat.
"It suits you rather well," Sauron said quietly, tucking a strand of hair behind Irideth's ear. Irideth, feeling a sting behind her eyes, swallowed with some difficulty and said nothing.
"It's beautiful; the rubies contrast your hair and eyes wonderfully," Adunaphel said. Irideth realized with some surprise that the female wraith was trying to make her feel better about her situation and offered Adunaphel a small smile.
"Now, I believe it is high time we discussed your duties, Irideth," Sauron said, loud enough for everyone to hear.
Everything suddenly went deathly silent and still.
Two months later:
As it turned out, the most difficult of Irideth's duties was getting Sauron out of bed on cold mornings, which in Barad-Dur was basically every day.
"Master Sauron, come on," Irideth said, yanking the covers off of said Maia. "You have a meeting with the Minister of Agriculture in less than an hour!"
Sauron rolled onto his back with a groan, not even opening his eyes as he pulled the blankets back up over his torso. "He'll wait as long as he has to; I'm Lord of this fortress, and he knows that. And haven't I told you to dispense with the 'Master' while we're in private?"
"Apologies, it's a force of habit. I'm going down to the kitchens to assist Halla soon, I won't be able to help you dress," Irideth said.
Sauron's only response was an incoherent grunt as he rolled over to face away from her.
"Come on; I've stoked the fire for you," Irideth coaxed. Indeed there was now a nice, large fire burning merrily in the hearth. "You can go and sit by it while I run and get your breakfast."
No response. Irideth sighed.
"Do you want me to ask him to move the meeting to this afternoon?"
"If you would."
Irideth sighed again, albeit inwardly this time. Everyone in the fortress knew the identity of Sauron's new slave at this point, but she was still only nine years old; not many of the officials Sauron often had to meet with took her that seriously. She'd never met the Minister of Agriculture, but hopefully he was one of the ones who realized her words generally had Sauron's authority behind them.
Irideth entered Sauron's office to find a man with black hair and olive-colored skin, dressed in green formal robes, seated at the chair in front of the desk. He stood and turned at the sound of the door opening and made it halfway through a bow before he realized who stood before him, a look of surprise spreading across his face.
Irideth quickly dipped into a curtsy, gathering the folds of her red dress in her hands and lowering her eyes. "Good morning, sir. I regret to inform you that Lord Sauron will not be able to meet with you this morning, and he wonders if it would be conducive to your schedule to meet with him after the noon meal."
Irideth straightened and glanced up at the man from behind the shelter of her bangs. To her shock, the man was smiling at her.
"My, such wonderful manners from a child so young! Your parents schooled you well, little one!" the man said in fairly accented Westron, though he spoke it better than the other ministers Irideth had had contact with. It was also surprising that he didn't assume like the others that Sauron was the one who'd taught her how to address people.
"Thank you, Minister…?"
"Kamaal, little one. And your name would be…?"
"Irideth, sir."
"Irideth. Well, little one, I won't keep you; I suppose you need to be getting back to your Master. Would you tell Lord Sauron that I shall meet with him one hour after the noon meal?"
"Of course, sir," Irideth said with another curtsy.
Kamaal, Irideth thought as she made her way back toward Sauron's quarters carrying a breakfast tray, was a first. All of the other ministers Irideth had met would turn their noses up at her, barely even deigning to address her. She was, after all, a slave, no matter whose she was. Kamaal, from the little interaction she'd had with him, seemed to treat her like he would any other person.
Well, then there were the Nazgul and Sauron himself. Irideth's duties were basically those of a domestic servant; making Sauron's bed, getting his meals, helping him dress and making certain his room was clean (which he tended to keep neat, anyway).
These chores usually took up a good portion of the morning, but after that Irideth was allowed to assist either the wraiths in the stables or Halla in the kitchens at her discretion. In the evenings before dinner, she would return to Sauron and he would instruct her in Black Speech for an hour or so. After dinner, he would inspect her magical ability and give her some instruction in controlling her power over fire. After these lessons, Irideth would help Sauron prepare for bed, then go to bed herself. The cycle started over again each morning.
The wraiths, meanwhile, had taken over from Master Geirwulf as far as training her in horseback riding and horse training. Murazor would usually summon her to the stables at least once a day so she could ride and work with some of the horses.
It seemed to Irideth that the Nazgul had also appointed themselves her unofficial babysitters, strange though that sounded. One of them was always nearby when Sauron wasn't around, most noticeably when she had to speak with or be around ministers who were prone to physical violence with their own slaves. She didn't know if they did this on Sauron's orders or their own initiative, but she wasn't about to argue either way.
Irideth's musings halted as she pushed the door to Sauron's rooms open with her hip, careful to keep the tray balanced in her hands.
Sauron was out of bed and partly dressed in black pants and a black tunic when she entered, sitting in a chair by the hearth and staring into the flames.
"I spoke with Minister Kamaal; he agreed to move your meeting to one hour after the noon meal," Irideth said, moving to set the tray on Sauron's bedside table.
No response.
Uh-oh.
Irideth moved slowly over to Sauron's side, carefully studying his face. His expression was completely blank, but his eyes… his eyes were glazed with what looked to be a deep, age-old pain.
This had happened twice before during Irideth's time in Mordor, when Sauron seemed to become trapped within himself, unable to move his mind from whatever memory had captured his attention. It was similar to when he would turn his attention to the Eye, but this time his eyes hadn't bled completely red.
Normally Irideth would fetch Murazor or one of the other wraiths, but they had all left early this morning to return to Minas Morgul to inspect the troops stationed there. They wouldn't be back for at least two weeks.
Which left things up to Irideth; no one aside from her and the Nazgul knew about Sauron's occasional catatonic states, and she highly doubted the Dark Lord would be pleased should anyone else find out.
Hesitantly, Irideth placed her hand over Sauron's. "My Lord?" she questioned quietly.
Nothing.
"Sauron?"
Nothing.
"Master?" It really annoyed him when she called him that in private.
Still nothing; not even a twitch.
Irideth pursed her lips, withdrawing her hand. Then, taking a firming breath, she walked to the front of Sauron's chair and hauled herself up into his lap, pressing herself to his chest.
Sauron came out of his stillness with a start, though he was careful not to dislodge her. "What… Irideth? What are you…?"
"I'm lonely. Hold me," Irideth said, tucking her face into his shoulder.
Sauron stayed stiff with surprise for several moments. Eventually, though, his arms rose from the chair's armrests and wrapped around her in a loose embrace. When Irideth shifted slightly they tightened, and a low chuckle make it past Sauron's lips.
"My beautiful little one," he murmured into her hair. Irideth's only response was to bury her face in the crook of his neck.
