Chapter 13:
8 months later:
Irideth had known pregnant women who were more emotionally stable than Sauron was at the moment.
She couldn't pinpoint exactly when he'd gotten this bad. It had started with a particularly bad nightmare; he hadn't slept for three days afterward, opting to spend most of his time on top of the fortress in the Eye.
His mood was positively foul as a result. Irideth didn't know what all ran through his head (or mind, really, considering he was bodiless?) when he was up there, but from what she could feel from the link it consisted mainly of staring and brooding. Mostly brooding, along with thinking black thoughts about essentially every other being in Arda.
Sauron, among his myriad other talents, was apparently very inventive when coming up with curses of both the four-letter and 'doom on your people' variety.
Irideth wasn't certain if he knew she could pick up on his thoughts and emotions even when he was bodiless, but it didn't really matter if he didn't block the bond.
So Irideth had practiced closing the bond extensively when this had first started; she probably would have been completely incapacitated otherwise. It had gone better than she could have hoped; she could now block the link on a whim.
The Nazgûl were having their own issues with the situation. They were restless, agitated and (though Irideth would never say it with them in earshot) nervous. Murazor was doing an admirable job keeping them busy, though; he'd taken over running several aspects of the fortress, with Sauron being indisposed most of the time.
Irideth knew this because he'd enlisted her aid. She spent a good portion of her days in the wraiths' shared office now, filing and organizing reports. The Nine had also begun teaching her the basics of the accounting and finance process (along with the necessary arithmetic). Irideth deemed it likely they would eventually have her double-checking expense reports and budgets.
Most surprising to her had been when Minister Kamaal had begun providing additional tutelage in basic economics when he'd realized what was going on. He'd also started taking her to the stables a few times a week when he saw how nuts the work was driving her; he and the stablemaster, Sabir, were apparently good friends.
Sabir was another one of the few people in Barad-Dûr who treated Irideth like a human being despite the fact of his higher social standing. He'd been thrilled to have a Rohirric slave around, especially one who'd been training with a Horsemaster, however briefly. He and Irideth would spend hours discussing foal training techniques quite easily, and more recently they'd started arguing the merits of various methods of starting a horse under saddle.
Irideth would never admit it, but she'd been flattered when Hoarmurath told her Sabir had adopted the Rohirric method she'd taught him for desensitizing horses to loud noises and movement close to their bodies.
Irideth had been more than happy to oblige when the Nazgûl asked her to exercise and "give their regards to" their horses. It seemed that, despite tales told in Rohan, the Nine took very good care of their steeds. They actually held some measure of affection for them. Though, considering what she'd seen when she'd first been captured, Irideth supposed she shouldn't have been quite so surprised. The horses had been very well behaved, but Irideth had initially assumed that was because they'd had all the fight beaten out of them. But then she'd seen how the wraiths cared for them when they rode; they never overworked them, would take the time to cool them down when the weather was hot or they'd been running for a long stretch, and fed and watered them as regularly as they could manage.
The girl had been soundly shocked the first time Murazor and Adunaphel had brought her to the stable to introduce her to Sabir; their horses had whinnied an excited greeting, and when their respective riders came over to them had immediately begun demanding attention like all the other horses Irideth knew with beloved riders. It was… cute.
And then it felt like someone had punched her in the chest when an image of the buckskin stallion came to the forefront of her mind.
She'd wanted to avoid the stables at first because of this and similar reminders of home, but she was of Rohan, no matter where she'd been born. She had horses in her blood, and it didn't take long for her to be able to simply enjoy the familiar smell of a barn, the feeling of sweat and dust on her face and hands, muscles sore from riding and horse hair all over her clothes.
It helped that Sabir immediately liked anybody who treated horses the way the Rohirrim did. He held a great respect for her people, he'd told Irideth as soon as he thought she'd be able to understand his language (he didn't speak Westron), and it showed in the way he treated her.
"I do not like the idea of slaves," he'd told her one day when she'd stayed late to help him pack a salve into a lame gelding's hoof. "I do not like what the idea of ownership makes people do. They feel they own something, they think they can do anything they desire to it, that it must do as they wish. That is fine for a cart or a mill, but not for thinking creatures, especially not for humans. You can think and feel as I do; I would not like someone demanding I do things for them because they think they own me, so I will not treat you as such."
Irideth had been a bit embarrassed when she'd noticed the tears on her cheeks, but the stablemaster just smiled and patted her shoulder. "You are a brave child. You have trouble with anyone, you tell me, yes?"
That had cemented Irideth's liking of the man. She was happy he had started sending for her in recent weeks, whether it be to help train a specific horse or just help with turnout and feeding. The wraiths would grumble about the loss of an extra hand, but it hadn't taken long for Irideth to realize they were joking (and Nazgûl with a sense of humor was still a concept that took some getting used to).
Of course, Irideth wasn't stupid; no one had said it aloud, but she knew the almost sole purpose of these extra demands on her time were to keep her away from Sauron as much as possible. The wraiths had started the whole thing because they could sense the Dark Lord's worsening temper before the rest of the fortress. When Irideth had noticed Sabir studying her closely when he thought she wasn't paying attention, and later seen Kamaal doing the same, it had confirmed her suspicions.
They were afraid that, with Sauron's black mood, he was going to hurt her.
Irideth certainly didn't discount the possibility; she doubted he'd gotten the name "Gorthaur" for nothing. She'd always been wary of him and maintained a level of watchfulness about her words and behavior. She cranked that watchfulness up several notches the testier Sauron got. When his mood was particularly bad she wouldn't even return to her room in the evenings; she'd just sleep with the kitchen slaves.
But Sauron had still made no move to harm her. He didn't speak to her as often as he'd used to, and when he did his tone was usually sharp and his words clipped, but he didn't raise a hand to her. He hadn't even said anything cruel; he had pointed out a few perceived superficial errors in her chores that Irideth acknowledged with an insincere "Apologies, my lord," before bringing his focus back to whatever he'd been working on.
A few weeks ago Irideth had been far too tired to deal with his pettiness and the 'apology' had been very noticeably not meant. Sweet Yavanna, Irideth had realized a second after the words had left her mouth she'd used the same tone she used with Adina or Cevin when they were complaining about some imagined slight or other, and she'd explained to them over a dozen times already it had not actually been her trying to be mean just because she was the oldest.
To her surprise, though, Sauron had actually calmed down a bit. Heck, he'd almost smiled. Although that had probably had more to do with the great, I just sassed the Dark Lord and I am going to frickin' die now expression on Irideth's face.
He hadn't acknowledged it the next morning, either, and he'd been a bit less grating for most of the day.
He was back to sour mode by the evening, but it had made Irideth think. Sauron was a Maia, he didn't technically need to eat or sleep, but he did appear to enjoy doing so now and then. Social interaction also wasn't a must; Sauron actively avoided it when it came to most people, but the Nazgûl and some of his ministers (Kamaal most noticeably) were often able to lighten his moods at least to a degree. He made some effort to remain at ease when Irideth herself was around.
Thus, Irideth had begun a subtle counter attack.
She'd started by leaving plates of food on his desk or bedside table. It wasn't anything that would constitute a full meal to a human; she doubted Sauron would pay much mind to it otherwise, he rarely took the time to eat a full meal these days.
Irideth had noticed over the past several months that whenever she brought Sauron a tray of food, the things that vanished most often were berries or a small pastry or two, some variety of fruit juice or a sweet tea or wine.
Ergo, the Dark Lord apparently had a bit of a sweet tooth. So she would leave something to cater to this each time.
Sauron ignored it for the most part at first, but after a few days Irideth noticed that at least some of the sweeter entrees would be missing from one or two of the plates (which she found strangely hilarious). A few days later, the plates would be almost completely empty.
It took a couple of weeks for there to be a notable improvement, but Irideth deemed it safe enough to move on to the next phase.
She started staying in Sauron's room in the evenings (to the great alarm of her caretakers). She didn't speak unless addressed, just folded clothes and blankets, organized files, or practiced her Black Speech vocabulary.
Sauron essentially ignored her, sitting at his desk and reading over old tomes and maps or scratching down notes on something or other. Irideth occasionally felt the weight of his gaze; if it lingered long enough, she would look up at him with a politely inquiring expression until he returned to his work.
Irideth was immensely gratified when she noticed the relaxation of his shoulders on the third night of this. The atmosphere became a little less heavy, and she didn't have to focus as much on keeping her body language easy and relaxed.
Irideth had been doing this for about a week, but she was still surprised when she entered Sauron's room after an agonizing day of reading and filing accounting reports to find the Dark Lord seated in a chair by the fire reading a book.
Irideth blinked; as far as she'd been able to tell before she'd blocked the link again, Sauron had been in a pretty bad mood for most of the morning. He looked relaxed enough now, but Irideth didn't know how much patience he'd shored up and didn't dare poke at the link for fear it wasn't all that much.
She didn't think he'd paid her entrance any mind, but when she shut the door behind her and turned in the direction of her room, he lifted his head and moved his eyes to her. She froze.
"Come here, Irideth," he said quietly. Feeling no small measure of trepidation but not daring to disobey a direct order, Irideth walked over to him. Sauron had set his book down before she reached him, and when she came to stand in front of his chair he reached down and lifted her into his lap, facing him.
Irideth went rigid for a few seconds; it had been so long since he'd held her that the sudden rush of heat, though pleasant, was startling.
Not to mention her concern about his temperament wasn't exactly easing.
Sauron was gentle, though. Irideth took a quiet breath and made herself relax when his hands ghosted along her arms, stopping briefly to trace the collar at her neck before cupping her face. Irideth felt herself tensing again when Sauron tilted her head back, making her eyes meet his. She felt him prodding at the link and unblocked it without further prompting.
The Dark Lord smiled at her, and she felt his approval as a brief, light warmth through the bond. Irideth couldn't quite hold back a grimace of pain as he entered her mind. He hummed softly, thumb massaging her cheek by way of apology as he sifted through some of her more recent memories and, to Irideth's surprise, gauged her physical and emotional state.
He withdrew after a minute or so, pulling Irideth closer as he leaned against the back of his chair. She didn't protest, turning so her back rested against Sauron's chest as he began stroking her hair. She felt more than heard his quiet laugh when she relaxed against him.
"So, my little one, what have you been up to these past few months?"
Irideth blinked, surprised by both the question and the fact Sauron had asked it at all; why the heck would he care?
"Didn't you just… see that, my lord?" she asked.
"I did not examine anything in great detail," Sauron answered, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. "And I did not feel your own thoughts on matters. I would like to hear your own rendition of your experiences."
Irideth was suddenly very glad he'd severed the connection, because she was completely baffled. She was his slave, why was he even taking the time to ask her this?
Deciding now was not the time to ponder such things, Irideth launched into the epic tale of Khamul vs The Rest of the Ringwraiths in the Avoidance of Paperwork.
Irideth, as it turned out, was an animated storyteller.
Sauron knew she was nervous; he'd felt that the second she'd opened the link (and when had she gotten so adept at blocking it?). But she was doing an admirable job of concealing it. Her bearing betrayed little, and her voice essentially nothing. Brushing his awareness over her mind lightly enough that she wouldn't sense it, the Dark Lord realized she was pretending (or trying to) that she was reciting an old legend or song to her younger siblings.
He couldn't decide if he found this annoying or amusing, but as he turned more of his attention to her words he admitted to himself he was surprised. Sauron doubted she was aware of it, but she was far more observant than would he would have expected of a child her age; she'd noticed and deciphered a good deal of the Nazgûl's individual mannerisms without faces to read. It was rather impressive.
And entertaining when she began relaying how eight of them had, on some unspoken agreement and led by Khamul, begun tag-teaming each other so Murazor would at least be less likely to notice when one of them skipped out on office duty. Irideth had apparently helped cover for them more than once.
Murazor had noticed, of course, and figured out what they were doing quite quickly. Apparently when Irideth could see he was particularly irritated she would put in a bit of extra time herself, which would mollify him at least to some extent.
It often didn't stop him from telling off the culprits. Irideth described a few of these instances in detail, and Sauron found it hilarious picturing his wraiths behaving much like chastised children (a state he knew Murazor was more than capable of reducing them to when suitably annoyed).
"I was actually thinking Khamul and Uvatha were going to sink into the floor; I had no idea they could make themselves look that small," Irideth said, gesturing for emphasis. "Everyone showed up and put in some overtime for the next three days. Then we actually got ahead of schedule and it started all over again. I think Murazor's seriously considering chaining everybody to their desks until we at least get the budgets for next quarter done."
Sauron laughed. Irideth blinked and stiffened in surprise for a moment. It wasn't a cruel laugh, as one would expect from a Dark Lord (although to be honest, she'd never heard him do so), and it wasn't the quiet or soft laugh she usually heard from him. This was a full, throwing-his-head-back laugh, and it was… pleasing, actually, to hear.
Annnd we are stopping that line of thought right now.
"I can certainly see him doing so," Sauron said once he'd gotten his breath back, eyes and voice still full of mirth. "It is likely the only way he will get them to complete anything."
"He doesn't have anything small enough to hold me, does he?" Irideth asked, adopting a horrified expression. "I'd like to see the sun one last time before I die."
Sauron laughed again, and Irideth's mouth curled into a grin before she could stop it.
"I'm certain he will not be able to find anything," the Dark Lord said, smiling as he ran a hand through her hair almost absently. "And if he does keep you overlong, let me know. I'm certain I will be able to find some excuse to claim your time that he will deem suitable."
Sorry, sorry, sorry it's taken me so long to update! School sucks SO MUCH right now (doesn't help that it's midterm season)! Let me know what you think via PM or review (seriously, helps me get off my ass).
