I do not own Lord of the Rings, or any of Tolkien's characters. Any characters and plot lines I create are mine.

A/N: Man, what a week. I have the whole week off from school, Senior night is now an afternoon in case the stadium doesn't have power (though I suspect it does by now) and I had a panic moment when my wifi was NOT WORKING! But now it is. I even had a whole plan, I was going to go over to a friend's house, and from there I would upload a chapter, answer email, and perhaps apply for college except that all of them pushed back deadlines due to Hurricane Sandy. I also had forty-eight hours of no power in which my house temperature dropped ten degrees, resulting in me spending my days trying to learn guitar and rereading The Hunger Games under a snuggie. Halloween is cursed, the same thing happened to us last year except with a snowstorm. Alright, my rant is done, here is chapter 3.

Chapter 3: Respect

Azruphel had returned to her room that night, much to the delight of Adûnaphel. She threw her bag in a corner and undid her scabbard from her belt, placing that with a little more care by her bed. She did not remove the knife hidden in her boot, or the short sword that also hung at her side. No matter where she was or who she was with, orcs were still orcs, and the protection was worth it.

Now she had to decide what to do until the meeting that night. Every week, the ten of them met to relay news about the enemies or their army. It usually did not last long, as not much had occurred the last few months. Azruphel decided to go down to the stables, knowing she would meet up with Uvatha. Uvatha the Horseman, as he was referred to by some, was the best horse trainer in Minas Morgul. He had taught Azruphel to ride, and was like an uncle to her. Azruphel normally went to him when she wanted to talk, and even though her previous discussion with Khamûl had been helpful, she still really wanted his company. As expected, she found him riding his horse in the lower arena, and observed as he took the horse through a complicated series of turns.

"You want to grab your horse and join me, or are you going to just stand around and watch?"

Azruphel could not help but smile. Because of the rings, the Nazgûl could tell where each other was all the time. It was the main reason why Azruphel would sometimes take hers off. She still had to get used to the feeling.

"I did not want to interrupt, but I was hoping you would notice. Let me just grab him and I will join you."

Azruphel turned down to the last stall in the row, which held Bûrzum. She had named the large, black stallion darkness. While his coat reflected his name, his personality did not, and Bûrzum was actually one of the nicest horses in the stable.

After saddling Bûrzum, Azruphel warmed him up and joined Uvatha. They took the two horses through several exercises, focusing on agility. Uvatha was a great trainer, and a great teacher. Azruphel remembered taking to him immediately. Sometimes she wondered if Uvatha was her father. They both had incredible skill with horses, and got along well. She also knew that her mother, Adûnaphel, had a bit of a reputation for sleeping around. It bothered her, but it wasn't that Khamûl was a bad father, just strict. Most of her choices had almost been made for her, including, she thought sadly, the ring on her finger.

"You a little lost in thought?"

Azruphel's head popped up. She was stopped in the middle of the arena. "I suppose," she answered.

"You want to talk?" Uvatha asked, allowing his horse to walk towards her. Azruphel nodded, while playing with the ring on her finger.

"You told me that you left your home because you were not happy, and because there was something better here. You said the ring was a token of your allegiance, a sign that you had become a ruler. Does this make me a ruler?"

"It makes you one of us," Uvatha stated simply.

"Sometimes I don't feel like one of you," Azruphel confessed. "I look at you, and I see you as you were. When I look at myself, I see myself as I am. Why?"

Uvatha thought for a moment. He always did when Azruphel asked him a complicated question. Most people would become upset, thinking Uvatha did not know the answer, but Azruphel knew it was only when Uvatha truly tried to answer her questions that he did this.

"There is a reason why we are only shadows to the normal eye. No one knew what immortality would do to someone who is supposed to be a mortal. We faded from the world. You are yet to do that because you are still young."

"Do I have to fade?"

The question was a new one, and it surprised Uvatha. Azruphel rarely questioned the Nazgûl in any way, but he supposed it would have come eventually, especially with the new lessons.

"There is always a choice. What you want cannot be ignored, but remember that the other choice would be death. At least if you fade, then you will enter into something you know."

Azruphel nodded, deep in thought, and then spurred her horse forward to train some more. They continued for an hour before allowing their horses a break. The horses where tired, but no where near finished. Uvatha had trained all of them well. He also trained the flying steeds for the Nazgûl, though he and Azruphel did not enjoy them as much as horses. Azruphel had only just started riding them a few years ago. She had named her beast Dushtala, or storm. She had learned to respect him, but it had taken her a long time to get over her fear. Dushtala became hers because he responded to her call. Most people, according to Khamûl, could not distinguish between the calls of the Nazgûl, which to the people seemed like screams, but the Nazgûl could hear the subtle differences between them, as could the flying steeds. Normally Azruphel would train Dushtala, but today was the meeting, so she and Uvatha headed up to the room instead. They were the last to arrive, and they received a look from Er-Murazor before he began.

Normally these meetings were boring. It was all Azruphel could do to keep from yawning. Er-Murazor loved to look at every detail, most of which were pointless to the big picture. It wasn't until later in the meeting that something actually caught Azruphel's interest.

"Orcs near the Crossroads captured a human. He is yet to say anything about who he is or why he was so close to Mordor."

This got Azruphel to perk up. No one ever came close to Mordor.

"We do not think he will talk," continued Er-Murazor. "He looks to be one of the northerners, a Dúnedain. He needs to be persuaded. I believe one of us can do that." As he said this last statement, he looked to Azruphel. Azruphel met his gaze, and nodded.

"Good," he continued. "Take as much time as you need, but I want results no matter what."

The meeting ended soon after, and Khamûl moved to catch up with Azruphel.

"Congratulations, Azruphel," he said.

"Thank you," Azruphel replied with a smile, but then asked, "Why do you think he chose me?"

"I think he is proud of the progress you have shown." Azruphel looked up at Khamûl's statement. "This is a chance for you to prove yourself to him. He is finally giving you the respect you deserve. Prove to him that you are ready for this.

Azruphel smiled. This was what she had been waiting for form Er-Murazor. She was finally gaining his respect. She could not wait for this prisoner to arrive.

A/N: Please review!