This chapter is double length; also, I'm making the stupid executive decision to post this when I'm dead tired and should be sleeping. Minimal editing, I die like the fool I am.
Chapter 23:
Irianna tucked her cloak a bit further about herself as she trudged down the road past the Windward Ruins.
Her talk with Falion in Morthal had borne at least some fruit; he'd confirmed the existence of Vaermina's Torpor, but unfortunately he hadn't the slightest idea how to brew it. According to him it was a secret closely guarded by the acolytes of Vaermina. The conjurer had heard rumors of a written record of the potion, but going by what he'd heard it had been lost in a raid on the temple it had been kept in. Unfortunately Falion wasn't sure where that had been either, though he was certain it was somewhere in Skyrim.
Which only left dozens of possible locations; Skyrim had no shortage of crumbling ruins. The khajiit had no doubt many more had yet to be discovered.
When she reached the fork at the end of the road she stopped; there was no way she would be able to make it back to Winterhold before dark. The question now was what route she wanted to take back. The easiest way was to follow the road to Nightgate Inn, then continue on and approach Winterhold from the south. She could also go to Nightgate and take the pass, which was a bit riskier but would save her a few miles. Or, if she wanted to take the fastest route, she could stay in Dawnstar, then go up to Frostflow Lighthouse and try her luck across the windswept glacial plain to Saarthal, then make her way up to the College from there.
A glance up at the sky, and the decision was made quickly. There was another snowstorm blowing in, and it looked bad. The wind was picking up quite a lot already, and Irianna didn't fancy walking through a blizzard in the dark.
The khajiit made it to the fork in the road and turned left toward Dawnstar, keeping her right hand near the hilt of her sword as she went; there was a pack of wolves in the area, she knew, and she wouldn't put it past them to attack a lone traveler.
The first flakes of snow were beginning to fall when Irianna pushed open the door of the Windpeak Inn and was greeted by the smell of woodsmoke, cooked meat and spices and, of course, plenty of ale. She looked around briefly, pulling her scarf down and hood back. There were a few curious looks from some of the patrons; khajiit normally weren't allowed into the town itself, but the guards knew her as a traveling mage from the College and thus (mostly) left her alone.
Ignoring them, Irianna made her way over to the bar. Thoring was the innkeeper's name, she'd heard, and the woman standing in the corner plucking at a lute was his daughter Karita, Irianna supposed.
Thoring, a tired-looking man with brown hair and a beard to match, smiled at her. "Welcome, traveler! Are you looking for food, drink, or a dry place to spend the night?"
"All three, if possible," Irianna said, leaning on the bar and glancing to her right; there was a dark elf in priest's robes standing there, surveying the patrons in the main room.
"All right; it'll be 10 gold for the room. You can have the one on the left there," Thoring said, gesturing with his hand. "Don't worry; the nightmares don't seem to affect visitors."
"What nightmares?" Irianna asked, looking up from counting out the required coin. Thoring sighed, leaning against the counter himself.
"Folk in this town haven't gotten a good night's sleep in weeks," he said, lowering his voice. "Everyone's been suffering from nightmares, and no medicine, no magic, no amount of ale seems able to cure it."
"Really? Any idea what the cause could be?" Irianna asked as she handed the coins to the innkeeper.
"No; most of the townsfolk think it's a curse of some kind, but no one's got any idea what might be causing it. Thankfully, Mara sent a priest to us," Thoring said, gesturing to the Dunmer Irianna had noticed earlier.
"Privately," Thoring went on, lowering his voice, "I'm not sure what all he'll be able to do. Does make folk feel a sight better, though."
Irianna hummed in acknowledgment before closing her coin pouch and turning toward the room Thoring had indicated.
"Let me know if there's anything else you need!" Thoring called after her as she brushed the curtain of furs aside.
The room was large, the main feature being a bed big enough for two covered in straw and pelts. Irianna set her pack under the bed, but not before pulling out her journal and a map. Once everything had been stowed, the young mage walked to the table set by the wall and opened up the map.
She hadn't been studying it for long before she heard a knock. Glancing upward, Irianna was surprised to see the dark elf priest peering around the doorframe.
"Pardon me, sera," he said. "But I wonder if you could help me, and the people of this town?"
Oh, great.
Irideth was all but falling asleep in the saddle when she, Sabir and the wraiths rode through the gate of Barad-dûr. Dusk was falling; they'd been travelling since mid-morning, with only a brief stop for a light lunch. She unsaddled Nasra and helped Sabir remove Zahir and Muruj's harnesses in a half-dozing state. She was so tired she almost leaped out of her skin when Sabir clapped her on the back.
"I think it is high time you got a bath and went to bed, child," the stablemaster said, clearly amused. "You will fall asleep where you stand if you stay out here much longer."
"I think she already has," Morgomir said when Irideth didn't respond aside from blinking slowly. Next to him, Adunaphel chuckled as she bolted the door of her horse's stall.
"Come on then, Irideth," the female wraith said, stepping forward and scooping the child up. Irideth was too tired to react with much more than a surprised squeak, gripping Adunaphel's robes reflexively.
"I sent word ahead to have Halla draw a bath," Akorahil called from down the line of stalls, scaring the few stablehands who were still hanging about. Adunaphel shifted her grip on Irideth momentarily - Irideth assumed to wave in acknowledgement – before continuing across the courtyard toward the fortress gate.
Irideth let her head rest on Adunaphel's shoulder, inhaling the scent of horses and windblown dust that clung to her robes.
"How is she doing?"
Murazor's question was quiet; Irideth hadn't even noticed him coming up beside Adunaphel.
"Exhausted; it was quite a long day," Adunaphel said.
"Sore," Irideth added. "M'legs are probably gonna fall off," she added, right before yawning hugely.
The wraiths both laughed as Murazor pushed open the door. "A warm bath should take care of that."
Irideth hummed noncommittally, letting her head fall back to Adunaphel's shoulder.
She returned to full awareness when she felt herself being lowered to the ground, her feet propping her up somewhat unsteadily.
She was in what looked to be a small bath chamber. Steam filled the room, emanating from the large marble tub set in the center. Irideth had never seen a tub so large; two grown men could have probably sat in it, legs stretched out, with no problem. The air was filled with the scent of roses and something else Irideth couldn't place. The source was undoubtedly the leaves Halla was sprinkling across the surface of the water.
"Tea tree leaves," the woman said with a smile when she noticed Irideth's quizzical look.
Irideth cocked her head curiously. Then she yelped when she felt Adunaphel undoing the belt of her traveling robe.
When the wraith had removed it she lifted Irideth up again and passed her to Halla. "I will be outside if you need anything."
"Thank you, my lady," Halla said, setting Irideth to stand on a chair.
Once Adunaphel had left, Halla helped Irideth out of the rest of her clothes before lifting her into the tub.
Irideth relaxed the second she was immersed; the water was perfect. Pleasantly warm, not too hot, and the rose oil and tea tree leaves smelled wonderful. The warm water also helped loosen muscles stiffened by the long hours she'd spent in the saddle over the last week.
The girl had almost fallen asleep when she felt a stream of warm water being poured over her head. She sat up with a start, sputtering in surprise. She tensed further when she felt hands in her hair.
"Sorry about that; I suppose I should have warned you," Halla said with a small laugh, beginning to rub a lavender scented shampoo into Irideth's hair. Irideth immediately went softer than warm butter, drawing another laugh from Halla when the child melted into her hands. The gentle massage of her scalp was wonderful.
It didn't take long for Irideth to enter her near-doze state again; she barely shifted at all when the older woman gently lowered her head into the water, rubbing the suds out of her hair before propping her back up and pouring more water over her head with a large tin cup. Irideth brushed water out of her eyes, blinking in surprise when Halla pushed her to stand.
Irideth gave a small yelp when the older woman began rubbing her down with a washcloth she'd dipped in the water and rubbed with the soap bar. "I can wash myself you know!"
"Stop squirming," Halla said in response. "You've got a week's worth of dirt ground into you, it's going to take quite some scrubbing to get you cleaned up."
Irideth did not stop squirming until Halla threatened to call Adunaphel in to help. Irideth submitted to the woman's ministrations after that, albeit grudgingly. And in no small part that was due to the fact she was simply becoming too tired to argue.
She was tired enough to yawn when Halla helped her out of the tub and gently rubbed her down with a towel. The woman then rubbed a scented oil-frankincense, Irideth noted absently- all over her skin before pulling Irideth's nightgown over her head and wrapping her hair in a towel so it would dry faster.
Irideth didn't protest, eyes half closed when Halla and picked her up. Her eyes closed fully, entirely against her will, just before she heard Halla open the door.
The chill in the hall told Irideth there was at least one Nazgûl there. A low chuckle proved it to be Adunaphel, who unwound the towel from Irideth's head and, to Irideth's surprise, used some kind of warming spell to speed-dry her hair.
"Go to sleep, Irideth," Adunaphel said gently when she took Irideth from Halla's arms, Irideth managing to force her eyes open and stare at her now-dry locks in astonishment. Halla laughed softly at the sight, before bowing to Adunaphel.
"Thank you, Halla," the wraith said. "She didn't give you any trouble?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle," Halla said with a small smile. Irideth snorted before making herself comfortable in Adunaphel's arms. She was out cold a moment later.
Irianna didn't know how in Oblivion she'd let Erandur talk her into this. Speaking of Oblivion…
A thrice-damned Daedric artifact! Fucking wonderful!
The khajiit threw a Fireball at another pair of priests who were running toward them, screaming curses. It killed the foremost one and staggered the other long enough for Erandur to smash the other's head in with his mace, yelling, "feel the benevolence of Lady Mara!"
I don't think he knows what 'benevolence' means, Irianna mused as she followed the priest up onto another raised wooden dais. I certainly hope he doesn't think I need it by the end of this. She'd noticed the priest's uneasy look when she'd resurrected a few of the dead fighters when they'd been in a bit of a pinch earlier.
But… Vaermina's Torpor. It did exist, and hopefully they would be able to find a bottle still intact once they reached the lab. Irianna had tucked the Dreamstride into her pack despite Erandur's plain discomfort with keeping the book around.
She drew her sword as she followed Erandur down a narrow hallway, wrinkling her nose at the strange, almost sickly-sweet scent that lingered from the Miasma.
Barely a moment later she was leaping past the priest to run her blade through the throat of an Orc warrior as he began pushing himself upright, whirling around and greeting the Vaermina devotee who had been coming up from behind her with a blast of lightning to the face. He staggered back, screaming and clutching his head, giving Irianna the chance to cut him open, groin to clavicle. She turned again, in time to see Erandur dispatch the last devotee with what she was coming to consider his signature mace-to-the-head move.
"Well, now that's taken care of, we can start looking for the Torpor. You look downstairs, I'll look around up here," Erandur said, turning to her as he spoke. "I hope we can find a bottle still intact. It looks like the Orcs really ransacked the place."
"Any idea what I should be looking for?" Irianna asked as she sheathed her sword.
"It should be a small bottle, opaque glass. Don't remember colors, though," Erandur said, sounding a bit sheepish.
Irianna barely kept from rolling her eyes. Great. The khajiit turned and made her way down the steps, careful not to step in the small river of blood that had formed down one side.
Health and other restorative potions were easy enough to recognize; there was a universal bottling system used by alchemists Tamriel over for those types of potions, thank the Divines.
A few bottles had been smashed during the earlier fight, and the scent of the potions mixing with those of blood and burned wood was not doing wonders for Irianna's sense of smell. Irianna's only recourse to solving the mystery of unlabeled bottles, however, was torturing her nose further. Removing a few corks and taking sniffs revealed potions meant to resist various magics, universal antidotes and no small number of poisons.
"Any luck down there?" Erandur called from above.
"No!"
Irianna heard the dark elf muttering frustratedly to himself and had to silently agree. With the mess the lab was, it could take an hour or more to find what they were looking for. If the vials containing the Torpor hadn't been destroyed altogether; then they were really in trouble, and Irianna for more reasons than one.
Possibly Erandur too; Irianna was far from the religious type, but she got the distinct impression there was more to this for Erandur than serving his Goddess.
Irianna didn't know if it was Mara's 'benevolence', some other deity or sheer luck that she tripped over a body and fell into a shelf, causing several bottles of various potions to fall right on top of her like vengeful hailstones. But the two that rolled to rest right beside her (now aching) head, an opaque blue, with one of the oddest scents the khajiit had yet smelled…
Irianna tucked one of the bottles into her pack before grabbing the other one and calling up to her companion.
"Erandur! I think I've found it!"
Sauron was burning the midnight oil at the desk in his bedroom, going over the latest reports on troop movements.
"You really should take a breather, Boss."
Sauron turned irritated eyes to Khrosh, the Orcish admiral who stood at his deskside.
Khrosh was one of the more… elflike Orcs Sauron had seen in centuries. He was far less malformed than many of his brethren, though his sharpened teeth, ears and his overall hulking build gave him away. He was also far less prone to violent outbursts than most, and a bit more willing to admit defeat and make a strategic getaway than Sauron's other Orc commanders. In strategy Khrosh had no parallel among Sauron's Orcish or human commanders, and his grasp of both psychological warfare and human culture was an asset the Dark Lord had at times found indispensable.
Thus Khrosh was the only Orc in all of Middle-Earth who could get away with speaking to his Lord like this.
Khrosh didn't even seem to notice said Lord's ire. "Besides, isn't your slave supposed to get back today?"
Sauron blinked. He'd been so absorbed in the maps and charts before him it had completely slipped his mind.
A knock on the door, preceded shortly by a quick brush of several minds against his own, had Sauron turning his attention that way. What on Arda could bring all nine of them here at this hour?
"Come," he sighed, leaning back in his chair.
The Nazgûl immediately swept into the room, most of them hanging back while Murazor, Adunaphel and Khamul strode forward.
"Blimey, we've been invaded," Khrosh muttered under his breath, undoubtedly amused.
"Here's your little hellion back," Murazor said, voice quiet but uncommonly cheerful as he held out a familiar blanket-wrapped bundle.
Sauron had stood before his mind had quite caught up with him, reaching forward and taking a sleeping Irideth carefully from his Black Captain, bringing her close to his chest as he studied her. She had been bathed, that much was plain. Her expression was peaceful, and she hadn't stirred once when Murazor had handed her to him.
"She's had quite the long day; we've been riding since early morning," Khamul said. "I'll be surprised if she wakes up before noon tomorrow."
"She'll probably be a bit sore, too, but the bath should've dealt with the worst of that," Adunaphel said.
"Sweet stâz, Boss, ya never told me she was so cute!" Khrosh whispered, having come closer so he could peer over Sauron's shoulder… or around his arm, to be more accurate, the Dark Lord was easily more than a foot taller than him. The look Sauron gave his general indicated he was less than amused by that statement. Khrosh just grinned back at him before returning his attention to Irideth.
"Aw, lookit 'er little ears!" the Orc cooed, leaning forward slightly to get a better look. Sauron's eyes moved skyward while the wraiths snickered quietly. "How old is she?"
"She just recently turned ten, I believe," Sauron said, gaze becoming contemplative as it moved back to the child he held.
"Ah," Khrosh said. His smile and his jovial tone slipped for a moment. "Poor little mite."
If he noticed the tension his comment caused, Khrosh certainly didn't show it. He continued studying Irideth, smile blooming again. "Wish I could sleep that hard."
"I could arrange that," Akorahil said from the far side of the room.
"Thank you, my friend, but with all due respect I would go to Asha with any sleep problems I was havin' before taking one of your more… witchy brews," Khrosh said with another grin. "You'd probably knock me right out for a month."
"I can brew mortal variations, you know," Akorahil huffed, mock offended.
"You could baffle your troops more than you already do," Ren piped up.
Hoarmurath snickered next to him. "Could you imagine how terrified the other captains would be? They'd probably think you consented to Akorahil using you as a test subject!"
"Would you all kindly leave me in peace?" Sauron said, as loudly as he dared, showing a smile with just a bit more teeth than was strictly necessary.
After some hastily made farewells, the wraiths and Khrosh swept out of the room, Murazor sending a private mental query to his Master and Sauron promising he'd call if he needed him.
Once the door had closed, Sauron used a quick flare of power to lock it before returning his attention to his slave.
Despite the commotion, Irideth was still sleeping peacefully. A slight tap into the link showed she was utterly unaware of anything going on around her; she was exhausted. Her skin was a shade or two darker than when he'd last seen her, evidence of much time spent in the sun. Her black hair provided quite the contrast to her white nightgown; Sauron hadn't noticed how long it was getting. In times past he wouldn't allow his slaves' hair to get much past shoulder length, but he didn't see the harm in allowing Irideth the freedom to do what she wished with hers.
Sauron made his way from his desk over to his bed, drawing back the covers and setting Irideth down on the left side before covering her again. After making sure she was decently settled, the Maia moved over to his wardrobe to change into his own nightwear; a loose red tunic and black pants, both made of silk.
After taking a few minutes to brush out his hair in front of the vanity, Sauron went back to the bed, lifting the covers and sliding his way toward the center. Once he'd made himself comfortable, the Dark Lord reached over and pulled a still out-cold Irideth to him.
He tucked the girl against his chest, holding her so her back was to him. She shifted only slightly through this process, making a small noise before going still again.
Sauron smiled, pulling the blankets over them both. He kept his hold on Irideth loose, so she could move if she became restless during the night. As an added measure he opened up their bond slightly, so he would wake if the girl's dreams began troubling her.
"Good night, my little one," Sauron murmured as he closed his eyes. 'Murazor.'
'Yes, my Lord?'
'No one is to disturb me for the next three days unless I summon them or it is absolutely imperative; you and the rest of the Nine are the only exceptions to this rule.'
Irideth, in her few moments of semi-lucidity, was fairly certain she was asleep. It wasn't often her dreams were so disjointed, but then she hadn't had all that much to be distressed about in her waking life until the past year.
She felt weightless. At times she would be standing on a frozen tundra, staring up at an unfamiliar sky with two moons. Others she was standing on a barren wasteland covered in ash and dust, with odd, giant insect creatures and monsters made of ash and rock. There were dragons, creatures that Irianna's books described as trolls, mammoths and sabrecats with truly impressive teeth. She floated through misty ruins, filled with spirits and walking, rotting corpses. There were walls with faint scratch markings on them, some that seemed to hum with energy that shook her down to her bones. Sometimes she was in what appeared to be a dark castle, other times the endless library that was the abode of the man with the golden mask.
And then there were the dreams of more familiar places and people. She would be standing in the pasture with Master Geirwulf and her family, watching the village herd as they grazed. Sometimes Sabir would be there too, laughing, arms raised to the sky as the wind blew about him.
She heard the thunder of hoofbeats, turning around to see the Nazgûl racing by on their night black horses. When she turned again the sky would be dark and Sauron stood before her, sometimes eyes blazing, hair aflame, form beginning to glow and shift. His teeth would seem to lengthen, hands becoming claws, dark, shadowed wings flaring from his back, becoming something monstrous. Other times he was calm and quiet, smiling and gesturing for her to join him.
Irideth could never move, regardless of the Dark Lord's form. The great black dragon or the gold-masked man of her old nightmares would appear, and Irideth would feel ice creeping through her blood as black, inky tentacles crawled their way up her legs, threatening to drag her down into a sea of poisonous green-black ink.
Now and then, she could swear she felt a hand in her hair, heard someone talking to her. She couldn't think of why this might be, and it eventually faded into the feeling of those horrid tentacles wrapping around her once again, their inky tendrils beginning to creep under her skin…
Sauron had to admit to some frustration with the problems Irideth's nightmares were causing. He'd been woken shortly after falling asleep by the child's fear seeping through the link. She showed no outward signs of distress save for a few minor twitches and the occasional whimper, but this was still the worst he'd ever seen her nightmares get.
Mainly because he'd been unable to stop them. His usual techniques, a combination of physical contact and a few minor spells, quieted things for a while, but within the hour the cycle would start all over again.
The Maia was just about to attempt another spell when Irideth came awake kicking.
Irideth was surprised when the tentacles gave way when she kicked; they'd never done that before. And she was feeling so heavy suddenly, too. Was there some poison in them or…?
Her eyes opened to the sight of the canopy above Sauron's bed, and when her head fell to the left she was met with the sight of the Dark Lord lying beside her, propped up on one elbow, his other arm hovering above her as though he were uncertain about how to proceed.
Irideth felt a brief hollowness in her stomach, but she couldn't muster much energy to care about her position.
Sauron appeared to reach a decision. He draped his arm over her waist and pulled her to him.
"You're alright," he murmured when she tensed, bringing a hand up and carding it through her hair as he tucked her against his chest. "You're safe, little one, it's alright. Just take a few slow, deep breaths for me."
Irideth had belatedly realized she was shaking. She did as Sauron ordered, screwing her eyes shut as she started slowing her breathing.
"That's it. A bit more deeply now."
Irideth obeyed, feeling her muscles loosen as her breaths deepened, filling her nose with the now-familiar scent of frankincense and sage she'd come to associate with the Dark Lord. For the first time, though, she noted a faint hint of something that reminded her of woodsmoke.
It… wasn't unpleasant.
When she finally felt relaxed and her breathing had evened out, Irideth opened her eyes and found herself staring into Sauron's face. He smiled at her, amber eyes softening as he moved his left hand to cup the side of her face.
"Is that better?" he asked, brushing his thumb over her cheek; it was only when she felt the wetness there Irideth realized she'd been crying. She gave a slow, somewhat shaky nod.
"Good," Sauron said as he lay down, shifting his hold on her as he did so so she remained pressed against him.
Irideth, against her better judgement, tucked her face into his shoulder. She felt his arms tighten around her slightly.
"Do you want to tell me what you were dreaming about?"
Irideth shook her head. Sauron hummed in acknowledgement, beginning to stroke her hair again.
"Are you ever in any danger in these dreams?" he asked after a while. Irideth blinked, startled.
"I… sometimes, I think?"
"You were kicking just now, as though you were fighting something," Sauron said.
"I… I sort of remember being wrapped in something. Vines, or tentacles, something like that," Irideth said slowly.
"Not a spider's web?"
Irideth furrowed her brow, pushing herself far enough away from Sauron so she could look up at him. He grinned.
"You might be surprised by how common a nightmare I've found that to be among humans," he said.
"I've never really had a problem with spiders," Irideth responded. "Unless they were in my bed."
"A sentiment I'm sure many share," Sauron agreed, amused.
Irideth huffed quietly, letting her head fall back to his shoulder. Her eyes fell shut almost immediately, feeling heavy as lead weights.
She almost didn't feel the press of the Dark Lord's lips to the top of her head. And she was barely awake enough to understand his softly spoken words.
"You are safe here, Irideth. None shall harm you while you are by my side."
Irideth woke to the sound of wind and rain buffeting the windows. She was still wound in both the blankets and Sauron's arms; the Dark Lord had apparently woken before her. He smiled at her when she glanced up at him, shifting slightly. He laughed when, after a cold draft made its way under the blankets, Irideth immediately curled into him with a shudder.
"A storm blew in during the night; I will admit I'm not quite willing to leave the bed just yet," Sauron said, voice amused.
Irideth drew her face away from his shoulder to look up at him again. "Do… do you want me to build up the fire, my lord?" she asked quietly.
Sauron, to her surprise, chuckled. "No," he said, arms tightening around her and drawing her closer. "I want you to try and go back to sleep, little one. It's still early, and you had quite the long day yesterday."
Irideth blinked. That was… a surprise, but she wasn't going to argue. She let her head fall back against his shoulder, closing her eyes and curling further into him.
Strange or not, she certainly wasn't going to turn down the chance to use the Dark Lord as her own personal heat source.
Irideth groaned quietly when she woke again; the bath had worked wonders, but she didn't think anything would've been enough to keep her muscles from getting her back for all the work she'd made them do on the ride.
Opening her eyes, the girl saw she was alone in Sauron's bed, the blankets tucked up around her shoulders. She rolled slowly onto her back, not daring any quick movements yet. A quiet laugh from the far side of the room had her propping herself up on her elbows to look.
She was met with the sight of Sauron sitting at his desk, papers and maps laid out in front of him. There was an empty breakfast tray on the side of the desk, and he was holding what was likely a glass of juice from a fruit Irideth still couldn't pronounce the name of, but she knew the Maia had a preference for it. He'd offered some to her once; the juice was a dark golden color, sweet and slightly tangy. It hadn't been bad, but Irideth still wasn't one for what she considered the more… exotic fruit drinks.
"Well, it seems Khamul was wrong about you not waking up before noon, but it's a near thing," Sauron said, drawing her out of her musings, smiling as he set his glass down and picked up a quill. "How are you feeling?"
Irideth dropped back against the pillows. "I hurt in places I didn't know existed."
She heard Sauron laugh. "Once you manage to drag yourself out of bed, Halla left your breakfast in your room on your desk."
Huh? Seriously, what was the game here? Irideth always ate with the kitchen slaves in the slaves' mess. She was supposed to get up early to tend the hearth and keep the fire going on cold mornings, and fetching the Dark Lord's meals was also one of her usual tasks. Yet he'd apparently ordered others to take care of these things today and had allowed her to rest, encouraged it, even.
What was going on? She was his personal slave, why on earth would he keep her around if he didn't need her waiting on him?
Well, honestly that was a question that had been bothering her since Sauron had first announced he was making her his, specifically. It was plain there were scores of slaves in the Dark Tower, Sauron literally had his pick of the lot. He didn't need her to do all these menial tasks for him, his interest in her was in her magic, the gifts he didn't understand. The other things were a pretense, likely something to satisfy his servants' curiosity as to why he was keeping her close.
Sighing inwardly, Irideth pushed herself up and slid to the floor, slowly so as not to aggravate sore muscles. She padded across the room as quickly as she dared, opening the door to her own room and slipping inside.
The smell of food had her eyes going to the little desk by the foot of the bed. There was a plate of ham, eggs and toast sitting there, looking fresher than Irideth would have expected. If what Sauron had said was true, it was almost lunchtime.
Deciding not to dwell on the oddity of the situation so as not to drive her mind in circles, Irideth went to the bookcase and picked her comb off the top. She brushed her hair out and bound it in a simple braid before going over to the wardrobe by the door; Sauron had had it brought in shortly after her arrival, much to Irideth's initial surprise. It did fit his practical nature, though; having a place to store her clothes meant Irideth didn't have to go down to the kitchen slaves' residences or the stables every time she needed to change.
At least that made sense.
When Irideth emerged from her room after finishing her breakfast (or brunch, she supposed), Sauron's eyes immediately fell to her.
"Would you accompany me to the lab, Irideth?" he said from where he was re-shelving a file.
Irideth started. His lab was one of the places Sauron had expressly forbidden her to go.
"If you wish, my lord," Irideth said after a moment's pause. Sauron smiled.
"Good," he said, gesturing for her to follow him as he moved to the door.
Irideth was barely managing to conceal her unease as the Dark Lord led her down the hall toward the stairs leading to his lab. Usually if he wanted to try anything with her he went to the healing wing, likely to have Asha as a second set of eyes if something went wrong.
The child bit her lip, suppressing a shudder when the unspecified 'wrongs' decided to have a go in her imagination.
"How precise a flame have you managed, Irideth?"
Sauron's voice drew her out of her dire musings; Irideth realized with a start they'd reached the lab and Sauron was already entering.
The scent of dried herbs and acrid tang of burned chemicals hit Irideth's nose a moment before she stepped inside, taking a moment to scan the room. There were a few hooks and a long bench by the door; Sauron had removed his outer robe and hung it on one of those hooks.
Most of the rest of the lab was taken up by a series of long wooden tables, which appeared to have been sanded smooth and covered with some sort of sealant. There were a couple of stone tables at either end of the room, as well as cabinets and stone countertops lining the back wall.
Almost every available surface was covered with various shaped glasses, beakers, pipettes, notebooks, candles and a few contraptions Irideth could neither name nor guess the uses for. There were large windows on the left wall, with smaller sections at the top; a length of chain led down from each of these, leading Irideth to think these could be opened for extra ventilation if necessary.
There seemed to be a method to the madness, though. For one all the papers and books were either neatly stacked or opened to a marked page. Many of the other tools were set in rows or sections on their respective surfaces, which to her spoke of Sauron's personal 'filing' system. It might confuse others, but he knew exactly where everything was kept and why.
"Irideth?"
Irideth's eyes flew back to Sauron, who had bound his hair back in a ponytail and was looking at her with a raised eyebrow.
"Oh! Um…," Irideth said. Once she'd remembered his earlier question, she said, "I've managed to get it a bit smaller than my palm."
Sauron nodded in acknowledgement, stepping over to one of the nearby tables and picking up a small bowl. He examined it for a moment before gesturing for Irideth to come closer. "Do you think you would be able to repair this?"
Irideth took the proffered bowl when she reached him, studying it. It was made of some kind of clay and had been lined with silver paint, some kind which Irideth didn't recognize. There was a sizable crack on one side, starting at the top and going nearly to the bottom.
Irideth pursed her lips. She highly doubted Destruction magic was suited for this type of thing. The name was a bit of a giveaway.
"I… honestly don't think so, at least not as precisely as you would want," Irideth said slowly. "I've never been able to get a finely focused flame, definitely not something small enough to concentrate over such a narrow area. I'd probably end up completely melting the glaze and messing up the paint."
She dared a glance up at Sauron. To her surprise he didn't seem displeased; he was nodding, looking pensive.
When he noticed her look, he smiled. "No need to trouble yourself; I was simply curious. It seems your control has progressed quite admirably in the past year, little one."
Irideth made a noncommittal noise as she placed the bowl carefully back on the table.
"Show me the smallest flame you can make," Sauron said.
More than a little confused, Irideth obeyed. Cupping her left hand beneath her right, she held them in front of her and concentrated for a moment. A ball of flame flared to life almost immediately; after a few seconds Irideth had reduced it until it fit comfortably in the palm of her hand.
"Are you able to make two flames simultaneously?"
Recognizing the implicit order in Sauron's words, Irideth's brow furrowed for a moment. She managed a second flame in her left hand, but her magicka reserve was still small; she knew wouldn't be able to keep it up for long.
Thankfully Sauron had her stop a moment later. His next order, though, confused her even further.
"Go stand underneath the windows there, then turn to face me."
Oo-kay, Irideth thought, but did as she was told. When she'd reached the spot Sauron had indicated and turned, she saw that he was holding a sprig of some herb – feverfew, she identified – and saying something in what Irideth believed to be Quenya that sounded suspiciously like an incantation. As he finished the final phrase, he tossed it up into the air. As the sprig reached the peak of its arc, just before it began to fall, in vanished in a swirl of ash.
Irideth's eyes widened, a shudder going through her when she felt… she wasn't sure how to describe it. A wave of energy, she supposed, that felt something like an intense tingling both on and underneath her skin that almost made her hair stand on end. It took her a moment to realize Sauron had noticed her reaction and was smiling at her again.
"A basic warding spell," he explained when Irideth gave him a puzzled look. "In this case a bit of added protection against fire damage."
"Are you expecting something to explode?" Irideth asked, incredulous and a bit worried now.
Sauron laughed. "No, but if anything does, the preparation will help."
Not sure how I feel about that, Irideth thought.
"Now, I want you to produce a flame in both hands as you did before, but this time make them as large as you can while still maintaining control. I am going to attempt to manipulate your flame while you do this; you need do nothing but keep your flames burning for as long as you can. Understood?" Sauron said, eyeing the girl critically.
Irideth, mouth suddenly feeling dry, nodded. "Yes, sir."
"Good. Begin when you're ready."
Irideth remained rooted to the spot for several seconds. Saying she had some reservations about this would no doubt prove fruitless, so…
She started with a flame that she didn't have to think about controlling at this point; two balls of fire that just flared over the edge of her curled fingers. Irideth fed a bit more magicka into the spell, but not enough that she felt she was in danger of them exploding in her face; dual wielding, as Irianna had said it was called, was something she had yet to get the hang of.
Sauron must have sensed that she was at her limit because, to Irideth's consternation, he began to sing softly.
The girl was so thrown off that she almost let her spell die; his voice was melodic as it had been that night he'd tried erasing her memory. But now that she could actually concentrate on it, Sauron's voice was positively inhuman.
Inhuman, but… beautiful. And there were words to it, but not in the usual sense. When Irideth listened closely, there seemed to be repeating phrases in the melody.
Repeating phrases that were having some effect on her spell. Irideth could sense it after a few refrains. It felt like someone plucking lute strings, the vibrations creating momentary blank spots in her senses that messed with her control; now and then it would waver, and the flames would flare higher and drift toward Sauron for a moment before returning.
The Dark Lord appeared to have noticed the same thing; he began adding phrases to his song. He seemed to vary between several for a time, then settled on two or three that he inserted into the refrain.
Irideth definitely felt the shift in energies more intensely; in less than a minute she felt like dozens of tiny hooks had been sunken into her nerves and were tugging her toward the Dark Lord, whose eyes and hair had begun to glow a mesmerizing flame gold.
The burning in her chest began shortly afterward. Irideth gritted her teeth, feeling sweat form on her brow as she struggled to concentrate on keeping her Flame spell active and keeping her upper lip from pulling back in a snarl.
Both of those became a non-issue within a minute; feeling a sudden heaviness in her limbs, Irideth realized her magicka had run out. The flames in her hands flared for a moment before vanishing, and Irideth, having been caught off guard, suddenly found herself standing on trembling legs.
She fell to her knees a moment later, bracing her hands on the floor as she breathed heavily. I overdid it, she thought. Irideth tried to never tax herself to this point when she practiced magic on her own; her own experience and Irianna's explanations warned that working yourself to the point of magical exhaustion meant it would take longer for your magicka to begin to regenerate, and it often took longer to do so if you weren't able to rest. That was why mages apparently carried potions to regenerate magicka artificially quickly, so if they chanced to run out of power in a battle they wouldn't suddenly be left defenseless.
Irideth was torn out of her thoughts when she felt a hand slide beneath her chin, drawing her eyes to meet Sauron's as the Maia knelt in front of her.
"Are you all right, Irideth?" he asked, eyes flicking quickly over her face before finding hers again.
Irideth swallowed thickly before nodding. "Yes," she said, more hoarsely than she'd intended. "Just… just tired."
Sauron smiled. "I can see that."
The girl made a surprised sound when the Dark Lord lifted her up, one arm behind her shoulders and the other beneath her knees. He carried her over to the door, shifting his hold for a moment so he could retrieve his robes and swing them over his shoulder, then moving out into the hall.
To Irideth's surprise, they didn't return to Sauron's rooms. Sauron instead took her to his office where, to her surprise, a small cot had been set up in the back corner closest to the desk, a couple of blankets and a pillow already resting on top of it.
"I expected this would be a likely outcome," Sauron chuckled when Irideth gave him a questioning look as he pulled back the covers and set her down on the cot. She felt like she should protest when he pushed her to lie down gently, but oh, this pillow is soft…
To Irideth's embarrassment she couldn't hold back a yawn as Sauron pulled the blankets back up over her. The Dark Lord laughed quietly as he stepped away, pulling the tie out of his hair and letting it cascade down his back again.
"Rest well, my little one," he said as he made his way over to the desk, pulling on his outer robes as he went. "We will speak more when you wake."
What on earth could he want to… Irideth yawned again before closing her eyes, pulling the blankets tighter around her.
I guess I can worry about it later.
Sauron glanced down at Irideth as the girl shifted in his arms. She'd begun shivering shortly after falling asleep, badly enough that he'd decided to hold her in his lap to keep her warm.
Thankfully he had no appointments today. This was something he'd rather his subordinates didn't see.
Sauron sighed quietly, beginning to run his hand through Irideth's hair almost idly as his eyes scanned the papers before him. The girl's breathing was rather calming, he found; a helpful thing when he had a mountain of work to sift through.
He looked down again when he felt another shift of Irideth's weight and found himself meeting the child's curious green eyes. He smiled.
"Hello, little one," he said, leaning back in his chair and winding both arms around her as she tried to sit up.
"What happened?" Irideth asked, voice still heavy with sleep as she rubbed her eyes.
"You were cold," Sauron answered.
"Oh," Irideth said after a moment's consideration. Sauron almost laughed; that explains it, her tone said, but he could sense she was still puzzled as to why he would care that she was cold. She accepted the surface explanation, but wasn't certain about anything beyond that. This no doubt made her uneasy. But it was something he could work with.
Sauron leaned forward, setting Irideth down on her feet before standing himself.
"Walk with me, Irideth," he said, stepping around the desk and walking to the door.
He could sense the child's puzzlement, and her trepidation, without any conscious effort. But she followed without comment or complaint, though her unease increased when it became clear she didn't recognize where he was leading her.
He smiled to himself; he believed she would enjoy it once they arrived.
He was proven correct when he felt the child's emotions as she stepped out into the garden after him.
It wasn't exactly a rooftop garden, though it was open to the air; this space was really more of a giant balcony, with large pits and planters full of soil with all manner of plants sprouting from them. Sauron didn't spend too much time here anymore, but it was still a pleasant space to walk and think when he needed to move and wished for some time to himself; very few servants ever thought to seek him here.
Sauron glanced behind him; Irideth was still following at a respectful distance, but the majority of her attention was on the plants. There were hosta plants and astilbe flowers, sumac and hornbeam trees in this section; the garden was surrounded by the fortress walls on three sides and thus was dominated by plants that didn't need much sunlight.
Irideth was undoubtedly surprised anything could grow here at all, but she was happy, or at least cheered, by seeing this. It was an effective distraction from her usual vaguely troubled state.
"I come here now and then to escape irritating servants," Sauron said as he came to a fork in the path, turning left. "This garden is big enough that, even if they thought to look for me here, they would not find me unless I wished them to."
"It's hard for me to imagine you running away from your work," Irideth said distractedly. Sauron didn't turn around, but by the sound of it she was inspecting some of the flowers.
"From my work? No. From idiot servants? Absolutely," Sauron grinned. Then he scoffed. "Especially my more sycophantic ministers."
There was no sound behind him for a few moments except Irideth's footsteps. Then, "what?"
Sauron realized with a bit of a jolt the child didn't know what 'sycophantic' meant. He honestly did forget how young she was sometimes…
"Flatterers. Those who bow and scrape before me simply to ingratiate themselves, to curry my favor," the Maia explained, taking a right turn when he reached another fork in the paths.
"Oh."
Sauron found himself suppressing a laugh at the child's tone; unless he missed his guess, Irideth now knew what the new word meant, but was curious about how what he'd said meant about him.
The Dark Lord continued to lead the girl further into the garden, walking deliberately slowly to give her time to study her surroundings. Maintaining only a surface level connection through the link let him know this reminded Irideth in a way of spending time in the forest by her home, whether that be on her own, with the wolf pack or her adopted siblings.
Eventually they reached the destination Sauron had had in mind; a small clearing, covered in stone tiles. A large chaise lounge rested at one end, sheltered by the overhanging boughs of the alder trees that grew behind it. Its color was a deep blue, the cushions resting on it and the blankets draped over the backrest were either of the same shade of blue or a complimenting dark green. Sauron made his way over to it, taking a seat and kicking off his boots before lying back against one of the side rests with a sigh.
Looking over to Irideth, Sauron saw that she was hanging back a bit, watching him with eyes that were both curious and uncertain. He smiled and patted the space beside him. Though plainly puzzled, and still a little wary, the girl walked over and sat beside him, giving a startled gasp when he wrapped an arm around her and pulled her down so she lay half on his chest.
She relaxed when he didn't move for a few moments, shifting so she lay more comfortably. Sauron would not deny he was pleased when she turned into him instead of away, letting her head lie just beneath his breast while folding her right arm so it rested over his sternum. She didn't flinch or tense when Sauron began stroking her hair; a small thing, perhaps, but a good sign nonetheless.
"Something is troubling you."
Irideth did tense immediately upon hearing those words, pushing herself to sit up and turning to stare at him.
"Don't lie to me," Sauron said sternly when the girl opened her mouth, having sensed the idea perhaps even before she had.
Irideth's mouth snapped shut and she lowered her eyes, shoulders rounding in an unconscious defensive posture.
"You know what happened," Sauron said, voice gentler now.
"I… I know that you tried to erase my memory, that night after Halla and Asha had left," Irideth said quietly, still not looking up at him.
"And you know that I attempted to sway your mind in the healing wing, when I told you to heal your broken arm," Sauron said when it became obvious Irideth didn't intend to say anything further.
"Yes," Irideth whispered. Sauron could feel her trembling slightly now. His right arm was still loosely wound around her waist, but he didn't attempt to pull her closer; he didn't want her feeling trapped.
Instead the Dark Lord brought his right hand under the girl's chin, tilting her head up and making her eyes meet his.
"I'm impressed," he said softly, stroking Irideth's cheek with his thumb. "There are very few who have ever held their own against me in such a way, much less a human child."
Irideth didn't respond; she was barely managing to hold his gaze.
"Are you afraid of me, little one?" Sauron asked softly.
He could see Irideth's throat move as she swallowed. "Yes, my lord," she all but whispered.
Sauron allowed a small smile to curl the edges of his mouth. "I would think you rather foolish if you weren't, Irideth. And I will not deny that I did do exactly what you suspect."
Irideth actually jerked at that; obviously she hadn't expected him to admit it so blatantly. Sauron's smile widened.
"There's no real point in me denying it, little one. You're quite clever, and you are not so foolish as to ignore your misgivings about me or my intentions," he said.
"I don't understand why, though," Irideth said quietly, with only the barest hitch in her voice. "I can't imagine how I could be of… well, any sort of importance that would require that much of your attention."
Sauron smiled. "I enjoy a puzzle. Particularly one whose importance has yet to be determined; you may prove quite valuable yet, little one."
"I won't help you," Irideth said quietly. Oddly enough, she was managing to hold his eyes now. "Not in the war. I can't do that."
Sauron's smile widened. "I know. Just as you know, I think, that you would not truly have a choice in the matter should it come to that."
Irideth's eyes fell again, confirming that she did understand that.
"There's no shame in admitting it, little one," Sauron said softly, running his hand through her hair. "You know you would not be able to fight me and win, should I truly desire your compliance. That is why you have submitted to me so far, and it is understandable. There is no need to make things more difficult for yourself than they already are."
Irideth was beginning to tremble again, worse than before. Sauron drew himself a bit further upright and pulled the girl to him, wrapping his arms around her. The girl pressed herself closer to him, burying her face in his chest. The Dark Lord began stroking her hair again, opening their bond.
The child was shaken enough that he had little difficulty accessing her mind, but even so he didn't try pushing too deeply. He had confirmed what she'd come to understand quite early on in her captivity, which was causing no shortage of conflicting emotions. Irideth knew how dangerous he was and knew that, ultimately, he held her completely at his mercy. She knew he could hurt or kill her on a whim, and if he truly wanted to force her to do something there would be nothing she could do to stop him.
She was his. She belonged to him. And she had no say in the matter.
Irideth had known this for some time, but, as many humans did, hadn't wanted to stare that particularly harsh reality in the face. No captured slaves ever did, Elf or human. The born ones at least had the mercy of never knowing any other life. Irideth had, which made things all the more painful.
Sauron pressed a gentle kiss to the top of his slave's head, wiping a few stray tears from her face. 'You will be all right, little one, as long as you obey.'
Irideth shuddered, blinking rapidly a few times. She could feel the intent behind his words, despite the relative surface level of their current connection. She knew he wasn't lying.
Sauron, despite… things, smiled. "Does the idea still take some getting used to, little one? Obeying me?" he murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
'Yes.' The child's answer was simple; her feelings around the matter weren't. From what he could glean from their connection, Sauron saw it wasn't so much the fact that she had to obey him, it was the without question part that was most upsetting to her. Especially considering his recent experiments.
"I cannot promise I will never cause you pain," Sauron said softly, continuing to stroke Irideth's hair. "But know that I do not intend to harm you, little one, and I will endeavor to avoid any tests that may do so in the future."
"Why?" Irideth asked tremulously, glancing up at him. "Why would that matter in any way?"
Sauron smiled gently at her, cupping her cheek in his hand. 'Because it will make things easier in the long run.'
The child's guard was down; she had no time to react to his deepening of their connection, but when she felt the warmth and the pleasant lightness that came with it she had no real desire to fight him.
Sauron gave her a few moments to adapt to the feeling and regain some equilibrium before indicating, more through the feeling of his own thoughts than words, that he wanted to show her something.
Irideth, still unused to this form of communication, took a few moments to gather herself before acquiescing.
Her shock was palpable when Sauron tugged gently at the connection, drawing her into his mind so he could show her some of his more recent memories.
He stood before the Palantír, one hand on its polished surface. After a few moments, images began to whirl inside it. It didn't take long for the stone to pick up on the Dark Lord's intent, and his gaze was whisked along, past Ithilien, the White City, past the Falls of Rauros, over the Druadan Forest and Anorien to the Firien Wood and the little village near the Mering Stream.
The Dark Lord saw the town woodsmith speaking to the Horsemaster in quiet tones. Though the man smiled, his face was strained. The Horsemaster looked equally grave, but managed a smile of his own and patted the man on the shoulder in a commiserating way.
The woodsmith turned for home, his unseeing eyes fixed on the ground. When he reached his house and opened the door, his wife greeted him with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. The man hugged her with one arm, absently, as he put his toolbox down on a nearby chair. The wife took one look at her husband's face and her eyes immediately filled with tears, face falling.
Her husband notices and wraps her in a fierce hug, a few of his own tears falling into his beard.
"I miss her too, Dea," he whispers, voice breaking in the middle of his quiet declaration.
"Do you think she's still alive, Seldor?" the woman whispers as she pulls back so she can look at her husband's face.
The man seems to lose what little pallor he'd still had. "I don't know, Dea. And I don't know what to hope for, either. I wish more than anything to see Irideth again, but hearing the rumors of what goes on in that horrid place… to think of our little girl having to face that…"
The man starts crying in earnest, tears falling freely, silent sobs wracking his body as his wife clasps him to her again.
"Mama? Papa?"
The two adults turn to face their youngest daughter, who stands in the corner, her own eyes red.
"Are you talking about Irideth again?" she asks, so quiet her voice is barely audible.
"Yes, dear one," Dea says, managing a watery smile. Adina's face crumples as she runs to her parents, hugging them as best she can given her height.
"I want to see her again," the child sobs. "I miss her. Why'd they have to take her? She didn't DO anything!"
"Oh, Adina," Dea sighs, reaching down and picking up her youngest daughter. "Who knows why the Dark Lord does anything?"
"Who would want to understand a mind like that?" Seldor muttered darkly, before his eyes are drawn back to the corner.
There stood their son, brown eyes somber yet intense, as he took in the scene. Adina, seeing where her father was looking, snorted.
"Cevin still thinks it's his fault she got taken," Adina said. "He told me he couldn't stop Tyrhir, that's why Irideth got taken…"
Sauron was taken aback at the force of Irideth's rage, so much so he nearly lost the memory. There was apparently only one person she blamed for her situation, and it certainly was not her adoptive brother.
"Cevin, you could not have saved your sister on your own. You tried, my boy, and nearly got yourself killed in the process," Seldor said quietly to his son as he walked slowly toward the rest of his family.
"She was calling for me," Cevin mumbles, one hand reaching out to grip unconsciously at the leg of his father's pants. "I heard her. She was screaming my name."
Sauron felt Irideth's alarm, her incredulity. That's because I thought you were DEAD, you idiot! Oh, Cevin…!
"She was scared for you, Cevin. I was, too. I saw how hard that traitor kicked you," Seldor said softly, placing a hand on his son's head. "You were badly hurt, son. If it wasn't for Derda and Geirwulf…"
Cevin's head fell, forehead resting against his father's hip. "I wish I'd been able to save her," he whispered.
Sauron allowed the memory to fade, carefully severing his connection to Irideth before glancing down at the girl.
Her hands were fisted in his robes, tears falling steadily down her cheeks as she sobbed soundlessly. Sauron carefully wrapped both arms around her, drawing her against his chest.
"Your brother is alive and well," he said softly. "Your family and your village are fine. They miss you, just as much as you miss them."
'Why did you show me that? Why were you even looking for my family?'
Words were apparently beyond Irideth at the moment, which, quite frankly, Sauron found understandable.
"You worry about them," he answered, running a gentle hand through her hair. "You worry about your brother; you knew he'd been badly hurt the night you were taken. You worry about how they've been managing to get by, if they're scared for you, how your disappearance has affected them. I will admit there was little interest in it for me personally, but while I know that the knowledge that your capture has caused them pain is likely not something that will bring you comfort, knowing that they are all alive and in good health may bring some small measure of peace."
Irideth inhaled shakily before burying her face in his chest again. Sauron sighed quietly, pressing another gentle kiss to the top of her head.
"I am sorry to have caused you this pain, little one," he murmured. "It does not please me to see you like this.
'I didn't even get to say goodbye.'
The thought was so quiet Sauron wouldn't have heard it if it weren't for the pain he could feel behind it.
"I know," he whispered, continuing to stroke the child's hair. "I'm sorry."
The Dark Lord was unsurprised when Murazor emerged from the shadows at the top of the staircase leading to his rooms.
"Did things go to plan, my lord?" the Witch King asked quietly, studying the sleeping child in his Master's arms.
"Yes," Sauron answered, looking down at Irideth himself. The girl had had quite the emotional day, which had culminated in her crying herself to sleep on his lap. He was pleased she'd shown such vulnerability before him, though he had been careful to weaken some of the expected resistance. He knew she had been expecting lies and half-truths; him being honest about what he'd done and not shying away from the fact of the precarious position the child was in had greatly surprised her. Irideth being thrown off balance by that had made deepening his mental connection with her considerably easier.
"I will still need to be careful, though," Sauron mused as he studied Irideth's face; some dried tear tracks were still noticeable. "I doubt she'll forget I haven't told her the purpose of my experiments, or their results."
Murazor looked up at his Master curiously. "What have you been able to conclude, my lord?"
"I haven't found anything for certain," Sauron said. Despite himself, a small smile tugged at his lips as he ran a hand through the child's hair. "But both her blood and her magic are like nothing I have ever seen before."
Sauron looked up at the Lord of the Nazgûl, smile now spreading across the whole of his face. "I do not wish to let myself hope, but I may have found what I sought in Numenór all those centuries ago."
Murazor went rigid in shock. "My lord, you can't mean… how would that be possible?"
Sauron looked back down at Irideth, gaze thoughtful. "I don't know; since I have currently found no way of tracking down her family of origin I'm limited in my investigations on that front, but given the power in even a few drops of her blood, she may be the only specimen I need."
"But how would you reach the Doors, my lord? You have no way to get to Aman!"
Sauron smiled again. "That's the beauty of it, Murazor. I may not need to; I will need to devise several new experiments to test my theories, of course, but I believe she may enable me to bypass the Doors entirely."
Murazor stood silent for several moments. Then, quietly, he said, "this child? You truly believe she may have that power?"
Sauron's gaze did not move from the unconscious Irideth, but his face did soften just slightly. "Strange, isn't it? A human girl may prove to be the key to freeing my Master and bringing about the beginning of the end of what we began."
Irideth was standing in Irianna's room in the Hall of Attainment, staring at her sister, who was grinning like… well, like the cat who'd gotten the cream.
Irideth's jaw dropped when the khajiit strode forward and pressed a small blue phial into Irideth's hand.
"I think we're just about ready," Irianna said.
Irideth looked back and forth between her sister and the cool glass bottle she held in her hand for a few seconds. Then, with an excited yell, she leaped forward and wrapped her sister in the fiercest hug she'd ever managed in her ten years of life.
