Sorry for the long wait, readers. This chapter was really hard to write and schoolwork was taking up most of my time. I will try to update as soon as I can next time.
Thanks to Juu50x and SJD042342 for reviewing and to all readers who put this story into their favorites.
Disclaimer: Everything belongs to Tolkien, not me. I am merely using his characters and setting in writing for pure entertainment. Well, maybe except Ráivë, Eldánon and Irmä. I made those names up because so many of the Maiar were unnamed.
The Witch King sat silently in the Halls of Mandos trying to sort out his thoughts while other occupants of the Hall accused him. There were many kinds of people there: from warriors, soldiers, kings, commoners, Elves and more. There were also Elf-like beings standing guard among all the people. The Witch King knew they weren't Elves because they radiated an aura of power greater than they. He had guessed that these guards were of the Maiar, and Námo was a Vala.
The Hall of Mandos was quite crowded actually, for Námo had gone to Valmar to meet with Manwë and discuss about the people that would be sent into the Void. He will not be back for some time. The hall itself was a large stone building with high vaulted ceilings and arched windows along the sides. Beautiful tapestries seeming to depict Middle-earth's history adorned the walls. There were many seats and stone benches that lined up neatly to face an ornately decorated throne at the very front. The Witch King had supposed that Námo sat on it while delivering judgment.
"You destroyed the realm of Arnor…"
"You killed Eärnur king of Gondor…"
"You killed so many in the siege of Minas Ithil…"
"And so many at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields…"
The Witch King tried his best to shut out those accusations with no avail. As he was blown along with the wind, it had taken him straight to the Halls of Mandos. He again was given the form he had as a wraith and was immediately recognized by all the people awaiting judgment. At first there was silence that lasted so long that one could hear a pin being dropped. Then somebody had shouted, "It is the Witch King of Angmar, Lord of the Nazgûl!" So the accusations began.
I never knew the Hall of Mandos actually existed and the dead were judged here. But I know Námo should have judged those people more quickly, The Witch King thought glumly, At least there would not be so many people to crowd this place. Some were even from the beginning of the Third Age. The Battle of the Pelennor Fields did not help at all. So many Gondorians, Rohirrim and those from the armies of Mordor were slain.
No sentence or judgment I need. Although I am not clear of the situation right now, I know that my fate is spending eternity in the Void. But I tried my best to help in the battle. Perhaps that is not enough to redeem myself. Again, how did I cast that fire spell? Never in my life since I became a wraith had I been able to cast one of these. What will happen to the Nazgûl now? I hope Sauron does not punish Herumor, Fuinur and Eärnur because of their participation in my plans. Speaking of Sauron, I wonder what happened to him.
"You deserve to be thrown in the Void…"
"Look at all the misery you had caused…"
"May your master fall under the same terrible fate…"
Sauron is going to pay for all this dearly if I ever meet him again. May all those accusations fall upon his head. If it were not for him, I would never be in this situation in the first place.
"You were the Ringwraith who shot my horse with a dart." A voice suddenly cut through all the clamoring.
The Witch King finally pulled himself out of his thoughts and faced the one speaking. It was the king of Rohan he had slain while in Sauron's possession. He looked the same here as he did in battle, with graying beard and shoulder-length hair and wearing his armor. An expression of inquisitiveness was currently on his wise looking face.
"It is not my position to deny that." He said, the first time he had ever spoken upon arriving in the Hall of Mandos.
"'Tis not a glorious death to be crushed by one's own horse." The king said grimly.
"The shieldmaiden, Éowyn. She was a relative of yours?" The Witch King was curious. He was also amazed that the king had the courage to actually speak to him, the wraith who brought absolute terror at his very approach, not to mention that he confronted him in a rather neutral manner.
"You know her name?" The king was astonished also, "She is my niece, the daughter of my younger sister Théodwyn. But alas, she is dead. Slain in battle. I cannot find her in this hall."
"She lives, and was kind enough to send me to this Hall of Accusations while at it."
The king fell silent for a while and stared. The Witch King began to feel uncomfortable. Perhaps he shouldn't have told him about that particular shameful fact. But to his utmost surprise the king laughed jovially out of all reactions.
"Éowyn slew the Lord of the Ringwraiths himself?" He said disbelievingly, "I must have underestimated her abilities! Please tell me, how did it happen?"
The Witch King sighed. He now truly regretted telling the king of Rohan about it. He, the mighty Lord of the Nazgûl, had allowed himself to be slain by a mere shieldmaiden who was not proficient in swordsmanship! Then again, there was no other way. He wondered if Sauron was really trapped in his mind.
"You would be wise to stop pursuing this topic. I do not wish to speak of it." He said shortly.
"The blame isn't yours. After all, I am glad to hear that Éowyn is alive." The king said relieved, but then suddenly turned suspicious, "Excuse me, but why am I speaking to the Lord of the Ringwraiths in a casual conversation?"
"Was that a question meant for you to answer…?" It was the Witch King's turn to stare at the king, who shrugged and went away, soon lost in the crowd.
"Lord Mandos is here! Lord Mandos is here!" The crowd started to shout.
The people at one end all divided up to let the Vala pass through. He strode up to the throne at the other end of the hall and sat down. Námo was very tall, even taller than the Witch King. He wore dark grey robes that swept the ground as he walked. He had long black hair and a fine pointed face with dark brown eyes. In fact, he looked almost like an elf in the Witch King's opinion. But Námo seemed to radiate an aura of great power, a power even greater than Sauron's and the mysterious beings' standing guard in the Hall. He was also known as the Doomsman of the Valar, the Vala who judged and ruled the dead in his halls in the legends. He was known more commonly as Mandos to the race of Man. Námo had the authority to send those he deemed worthy of the Void, although he always consulted Manwë first. The Witch King knew he had no hope of getting out of this.
"What is this commotion I hear in my halls?" Námo asked. His voice was grim and without emotion, "Accusations of one destroying the ancient realm of Arnor, leading the siege on Minas Ithil… There is only one being I could think of that has finally arrived among us today."
The Witch King involuntarily shrank back against the crowd as Námo's piercing gaze found him at once. It was like having his mind searched for every secret and misdeed he had done. There was nothing he could hide. It was even worse to be singled out by the Doomsman of the Valar than been accused by the people. The people seemed to push the Witch King forward as he tried futilely to hide himself. Finally he was pushed forward right before Námo. The presence of his power became almost too overwhelming to bear, threatening to force him to his knees.
"Welcome to my halls, Leader of the Úlairi, one who stands between the living and the dead. Since you are the source of this disturbance, I shall have the honor of judging you first." Námo said evenly.
The Witch King said nothing and stood silently.
"He needs no judgment, Lord Námo! All of us know who he was and what he had done in the history of Middle-earth. Send him to the Void without hesitation!" Somebody shouted.
"Send him to the Void! Send him to the Void!" Soon the chant was taken up by everyone.
I have nothing to say in this matter. But all these actions I had done to amend my mistakes, are they in vain? Maybe if I had defied Sauron completely and died because of it, I would have been pardoned. Instead I served him for thousands of years without question until now.
"Silence in my halls!" Námo raised his voice. All the shouting died down immediately.
"The Witch King deserves his fate, Lord Mandos." Another spoke up.
"Both he and his master deserves it."
"Middle-earth would be in peace if it were rid of both the Dark Lord and his servants."
Námo was beginning to look exasperated.
"I do not have the time to listen to your accusations. The most recent battle has brought many into this place. Already much time had been lost. I shall send the Witch King before the Máhanaxar for judgment." Námo said somewhat stiffly.
What is the Máhanaxar? Events are getting more and more confusing now.
"Ráivë, Eldánon! Take him to the golden western gates of Valmar. And you, Irmä, go to Manwë and inform him of a meeting of the Máhanaxar." Námo ordered.
Two of the guards strode towards the Witch King, grabbed hold of him and led him out of the hall while one ran out. He didn't even bother to resist and went without speaking. But he had a bad feeling that the Máhanaxar would be even worse than the Hall of Mandos.
"What is the Máhanaxar?" The Witch King was unable to contain his curiosity.
"It is not your place to ask questions. Your fate is obvious. You threw in your lot with Sauron, and therefore you shall get what you deserve." One said shortly.
I am in this place today under the accusations of thousands because of Sauron! I do not deserve this fate. Námo singled me out to be judged, and now he sends me to the Máhanaxar. I know I am doomed to the Void. Even my so-called sacrifice didn't work. It was obvious that Sauron did not get trapped in my mind and is still weaving his twisted plans for the destruction of the free peoples of Middle-earth.
"It is my place to know my fate and the ones who are going to judge me." The Witch King retorted.
"You will not show insolence in the presence of the Maiar!" The one who first spoke said angrily.
"Do not be so rash, Ráivë. It is rare for Lord Námo to send anyone before the Lords of Valinor for judgment. The Máhanaxar is the gathering of the Powers at the west gates of Valmar, the city of the Valar. There they make their decisions, bathed in the light of Ibrîniðilpathânezel and Tulukhedelgorûs. But alas, they are no more. Destroyed by Morgoth the black enemy." The other said sadly.
Those two complex words he uttered...what do they mean? They sound harsh to the ears.
"You spent too much time in the halls of Lady Nienna, Eldánon, and you use our language too casually around those who are not of the Ainur. Pity is the last thing the wraith needs." The Maia called Ráivë by his companion said harshly.
I thought the Valar and the Maia were only figures in legends, who seem to have their own language also. Stories made up to explain various things. I even heard that all the Valar and Maiar are under another lord. From what these two Maiar are saying, it seems like I will be facing the Valar themselves: Manwë, Aulë, Oromë, Tulkas and the others. But why? Did I really commit such serious crimes?
"Pity is not a bad emotion. I pity also his master. Mairon should have returned to us as soon as Morgoth was defeated."
"Enough speech. We have arrived." Ráivë declared.
"And there is no way to escape. You cannot enter Valmar because it is only for the Elves and the Ainur. The sea separates Aman from Middle-earth. That was why Lord Námo only sent us to escort you." He added as the Witch King looked around quickly.
"I wish you good luck. The Valar will sometimes be merciful." Eldánon said softly. He and Ráivë seemed to fade away and disappear.
The Witch King took another good look around his surroundings. There was a high wall made of stone that stretched all the way from where he came and a gate seemed to be made from pure gold was set in a distance. The tips of buildings can be seen over the wall. The entire city of Valmar seemed to glow with light. Right now he was standing in a circle of ornate thrones. But in front of that were the dead remains of two trees. The sea spread out on the other side, reflecting the setting sun in dazzling lights that made the golden gates glow like fire.
Valinor, that is what they call it. A place spoken of only in legends and stories. The land where the Númenóreans were banned to step on. The Ban of the Valar it was called, the cause of our downfall. The very same beings forbade the Númenóreans from passing into the West. Now that I am here, everything is explained in their own way.
I suppose there will be more accusing coming up. There is absolutely no way for me to avoid it. Speaking of that, the Valar are taking their time to arrive here.
True enough, there wasn't a sign of someone arriving. It was completely silent, only the sound of waves slapping the rocks can be heard. The Witch King still waited, becoming more and more impatient. He was also getting anxious.
No one… Does it mean I am pardoned? But that is unheard of.
"Is there no one to accuse you?" Asked a deep voice. The voice was male and seemed to resound from everywhere. The Witch King jumped and turned around. There was no one as far as he could see.
"Who speaks?" He asked loudly.
"Is there no one to accuse you?" The voice repeated patiently.
What is going on here? Who is the speaker?
The Witch King looked around again. The thrones were still empty. There was no one to judge or accuse him. Nor was there any sign of the speaker.
"I think not..." He said cautiously.
"Then I do not either. Come now to my realm." The voice answered.
Suddenly Valinor and all its surrounding land and sea vanished in a bright light and a rushing sound. Startled, the Witch King lost his balance and fell on his back. Everything turned white in his vision, forcing him to shade his eyes with one hand to avoid being blinded. The light began to fade a little, and he saw he was in another hall made of pure white marble clean and pure beyond imagination. The Witch King began to feel out of place with his black cloak and armor as he looked around. He also noticed that everything had gone extremely quiet. The walls were so bright that it even hurt to look at them.
Where am I? This is certainly not another area of Valinor. Something tells me that this is not Middle-earth either… He thought as he got up.
"Welcome to the Timeless Halls, young one." The voice spoke again. It came from the other end. Unlike Námo's presence and voice, the speaker sounded warm and affectionate.
For the first time the Witch King noticed that there was someone, or rather a presence, standing in the hall right on top of a few shallow steps. The source of light seemed to come from this presence, for it shone the brightest there. He could almost see the faint shadow of a figure in the light, and had a strange feeling he had seen it somewhere before.
"Who are you?" The Witch King asked again.
"Your people used to honor me on their island, but long since had they turned astray. I am not surprised that many had forgotten my name." The presence said placidly.
Memories began to course through the Witch King's mind. He saw a wide open expanse on a high mountain in Númenor with only one person standing in the middle of it. The person seemed to be a king, who had long grey hair adorned with a high crown on top and was wearing magnificent robes. The king was holding up both of his hands and from the look on his face, was offering a prayer of petition. The Witch King remembered a name that had unexpected turned up in his memories while he was brought to the Hall of Mandos.
"You are Eru Ilúvatar, Lord of the Ainur and Creator of Arda." The Witch King said quietly.
"To say I am pleased that someone remembers me would be a great understatement," The presence said in a delighted voice, "You may call me Ilúvatar."
"Why did you bring me here when the Valar were supposed to judge me?" The Witch King asked curiously.
"I created the Elves and Men in Middle-earth, gave each one a personality, way of thinking, and their own mind. Each one is special, and I do not wish to see a single one of them be sent to the Void." Ilúvatar said.
"You are not an exception from the others. I decided that it would be better for the all of us if I brought you here. I know that you claim to be falsely accused and desire not to enter the Void." He continued thoughtfully.
He knows? Then...what am I here for again?
"But I have so many questions. What is going on here? Why am I brought to this place? Why were the Valar absent when they were summoned to judge me?"
"Please sit down, young one. We have much to speak about." The presence of Ilúvatar moved aside a little and seemed to indicate a spot on the steps.
The Witch King hesitated. He already was very confused about this new turn of events. In fact, all he had been feeling was confusion since he set step into the Hall of Mandos. And now this being who was in the legends the supreme creator of Arda was calling him "young one" and asking him to sit next to him. The Witch King felt uncomfortable in being called that. It made him feel like a young child, not an over five-thousand year old life weary wraith.
"I take that you do not like to be called that." Ilúvatar said casually.
Startled again, the Witch King took a step back.
He can read my mind? Then there is nothing I could hide from him.
"Come, please sit down. There is much to be explained and made clear."
Reluctantly the Witch King came to the steps and sat down. Strangely he felt warm and at peace, not overwhelmed and terrified as before Námo.
"Now tell me more about yourself first." Ilúvatar said pleasantly.
"There is nothing in to tell about." The Witch King said in a low voice.
"For one who has lived for thousands of years? Start from the beginning then."
"I remember not of the things before I became a wraith."
It was true. After a few hundred years had passed for the Witch King, he began to forget everything of his previous human life. He had almost even forgotten about his former position as a king of Númenor. Only the memories of his service to Sauron remained after a few thousand years had passed.
"There was a reason why Man are not immortal like the Elves. Their minds cannot bear to handle the memories accumulated over the years. But your life has been extended greatly by your status as a wraith." Ilúvatar read his mind again.
If that were so, then I would remember nothing of my previous life. Why did I have to accept that accursed ring then? Immortality is a curse, not a blessing!
"Mairon did that, didn't he?"
There is that name again. Somehow it also sounds familiar.
"Your master is a Maia, young one, named Mairon. Most powerful of the Maiar, he is, and also the most curious. I would say that his curiosity prompted him to join Melkor." Ilúvatar explained, "And Melkor was the greatest of the Valar, the first to fall to darkness. He was the Dark Lord of Middle-earth before your master."
I never knew Sauron was one of those elf-like beings! I thought he was a very powerful human sorcerer who had achieved immortality! From the way Ilúvatar spoke of Melkor, he must be worse than Sauron. That Morgoth character Eldánon mentioned must be the same one.
"Melkor! He was also called Morgoth, was he not?" Hearing this new information, the Witch King forgot all about Ilúvatar's previous question.
Ilúvatar sighed as if in lamentation. He could suddenly feel sorrow deeper than any he had seen emanating from the being. Sorrow for a wayward child and his refusal to return. For a moment, the Witch King thought he would weep for whatever Ilúvatar was mourning for.
"Black Enemy, it means. Fëanor son of Finwë gave him that name when he stole the Silmarils and waged a long war against him. He was the most promising of the Valar, the closest one to me. Yet he chose to walk on the path to destruction, which led to his placement in the Void." Ilúvatar finally spoke.
The Witch King wasn't that familiar with the history of the First Age of Middle-earth. But he knew something about the war between the Noldor Elves and Morgoth for the Silmarils.
"That will be the place I will be going if I were not brought here, right? The Valar will have me sent there without a second thought." The Witch King said quietly.
"The Timeless Void," Ilúvatar sighed, "The absence of Flame Imperishable. It is a gap that should have never existed outside of Eä."
"What a terrible place it must be." The Witch King began to imagine a place without light, sound, smell, existence, and of course, with the presence of Morgoth lurking somewhere.
"Your master will be sent there if he persists in his fallen ways." Ilúvatar said unexpectedly.
"Why do you keep calling Sauron 'my master'?" The Witch King asked, "I abandoned that title for him a long time ago. He deserves to be sent to the Void for what he has done."
"Do you truly think that?" Ilúvatar wondered aloud, "Something momentous must had happened if you had started such a bitter grudge against him."
"He destroyed Númenor…" The Witch King said stiffly.
"Indeed he led Ar-Pharazôn astray to cross the Ban of the Valar. It was I, though, who raised the waves that pulled Númenor below the waters." Ilúvatar said.
What? I thought Sauron had the power to control water and drowned Númenor himself! I was convinced of that fact in all those years. Then what exactly happened on that day? Who is to blame?
"You are a Númenórean, young one. I feel your anguish from losing your home country. However, it was Ar-Pharazôn's choice to listen to Mairon or not. He listened, and the consequences cost him gravely. Númenor was at its twilight. People were doing evil, evil that has not been seen before in the generations of men. It cannot be continued. Judgment had to come upon them."
The Witch King suddenly remembered clearly a certain incident that happened a long time ago. He had been suspicious of Sauron's deeds at the Númenor and traveled the long journey towards the West to investigate. It had been the Creator of Arda himself he had seen just before he was swept away by the waves that drowned the island realm.
Ilúvatar was truly the one who drowned Númenor! But he said he loved each life that existed. Why would he do something so merciless like that?
"You could have spared Númenor!" The Witch King was now angry and stood up, "You could have destroyed part of the fleet or give them a warning. Why did you have to destroy the whole island?"
"I did. I sent the Faithful to speak to those who did evil. They never turned away from their ways." Ilúvatar said sadly.
There was a long silence. The hall still gave off the brilliant light. The Witch King expected Ilúvatar to get angry too, and was now regretting his words. Strangely Ilúvatar did not, and remained sitting peacefully on the steps.
Judgment on the Númenóreans? Was it not too harsh for them? But he did warn them. The Faithful, led by Elendil the Tall, spoke to the people and pleaded for them to turn from their evil ways. Perhaps they had refused the chance so many times. Ilúvatar was not the one to blame then. He would not have raised the waves if Sauron had not appeared to deceive. It was Sauron's fault still. But still...Númenor was lost...
Finally Ilúvatar spoke, "You wish to see Mairon go to the Void?"
The Witch King looked up, startled from his thoughts of grievance for the downfall of Númenor.
"He deserves it, as I said earlier," He returned vehemently as the subject of Sauron was brought back up again, "He is the chief source of misery in Middle-earth. Made the people and land suffer, he did. Many perished in wars waged against Sauron. He enslaved most of his servants against his will, always cruel and demanding towards them. And most of all, despite what you said earlier, he was the one who led the people astray and brought about the Akallabêth!"
"If you had not accepted the Ring of Power offered to you, young one, you would have escaped your life as a wraith." Ilúvatar pointed out.
The Witch King fell silent.
I suppose that was the crucial turning point for me. If I had not accepted Sauron's so-called gift, I would have been free to live as I please and die at the appointed time. I would never have to live such a long suffering life and serve Sauron against my will. It was why I was accused. The ring was a highway to the Void itself.
"Indeed it was. You should now know better than to accept it," Ilúvatar agreed, "The accusations you bore and the your countless sufferings were the consequences. Now it is the time to face your past, young one. I want to list everything you had done that had earned those accusations."
Even Ilúvatar agrees with the fact that my acceptance of my ring was the worst choice I had ever made. Now he wants me to actually list all things I did under the service of Sauron, even when the time when my mind was bound? How could I ever do so before the Creator of Arda, when I had wrought so much ruin upon his creation?
"For now, do so in peace. I am one slow to anger. You have no need to fear my wrath." Again Ilúvatar read the Witch King's thoughts.
"…My service to Sauron was what they mainly accused me of," The Witch King slowly began, still doubtful of the other's words, "You must know also of my deeds throughout the history of Middle-earth. I was responsible for the destruction of Arnor, the besieging of Minas Ithil, the forced recruiting of Eärnur into the ranks of the Nazgûl, the countless casualties in battles fought against Mordor, the halfling I had harmed grievously by a Morgul-blade, the chaos I wrought upon Minas Tirith during the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, the death of the king of Rohan..."
As he spoke, Ilúvatar produced a long piece of parchment paper out of nowhere and cast it into the air, which hung unmoving before him. The deeds the Witch King just mentioned were all written down by an invisible hand in the elegant flowing Tengwar script. The still wet black ink glistened brightly in the light, somehow burning with an intensity of its own.
"Ilúvatar, was that really necessary?" The Witch King was not that all pleased to have all of his wrongdoings listed before him like this. It was bad enough to name them orally in the first place.
"Let it be so for now," The Creator of Arda answered, "You shall see the use of the parchment later. Now I would like you to answer another question. How did you feel when you did those deeds?"
"I was forced to commit them! I never intended for the people of Arnor to be destroyed completely. I was trying to build up an army under the disguise of establishing a new realm so I might overthrow Sauron one day. Then they had to come along with their armies and provoke me. Sauron told me to besiege Minas Ithil and recruit Eärnur. He made me kill the king of Rohan!"
"Now is not the moment to speak of others, but to concentrate on your own matters," Ilúvatar said rather severely.
Sauron deserves to be accused!
"Now, I would like you to answer my previous question."
Swallowing down his anger, the Witch King thought about the question for awhile. He knew he had experienced that feeling numerous times. So many times that it had become part of him. He had felt that when the failing forces of Arnor were driven back. Felt it after he stabbed the halfling carrying the Ring. Felt it when Sauron commanded him to attack Gondor.
Guilt.
"It is a great burden, that sense of guilt," Ilúvatar commented, "You must get rid of it, young one."
He looked at the parchment again. The accusations threatened to bore themselves into his mind with the vehemence behind when they were uttered by others.
There was a long silence.
I had been carrying it for so long that I had forgotten what it is like to truly feel guilt and remorse for my actions. The Witch King mused; Everything was done in a state of numbness. It was only in those past years I was able to feel...something. I would like to get rid of this burden. But how? Now that I look back at those deeds I had done, I...feel...ashamed.
"I should have fought harder," The Witch King said quietly, "I should have persisted in my beliefs that Sauron had to be stopped. I should have found the courage to defy him instead of cowering back in fear after the incident at Minas Morgul. It was my entire fault..."
"Lord Ilúvatar, please forgive me. I had wronged myself and the people of Middle-earth for too long." He lowered his head in shame.
"Young one, no matter how great the wrong, one can be always forgiven if he turns back and repents wholeheartedly," Ilúvatar said warmly, "Likewise, you are forgiven also. As this document is destroyed and rendered unrecoverable, you are free to leave the past behind, free to have them forgotten."
The parchment burst into sudden flames, which consumed it and its contents quickly. Scattered fragments of the brown paper, charred black at the edges, flew lazily around the two before vanishing in thin air.
I was forgiven so easily like that? That means I am free from my fate in the Void. But how…? However, I must admit that it certainly feels better to put the past behind me.
"It is, doesn't it? You no longer have to be sent to the Void now," Infinite joy seemed to radiate from the Creator as he spoke lightheartedly, "However, I think you would like a second chance at life, would you? I shall be sending you back to Middle-earth when this is all over."
"Sending me back?" The Witch King was shocked, "Why?"
"There is greater purpose behind all things I set in motion," Ilúvatar said wistfully, "But for now I cannot reveal it yet. However, here is something you should hear:
'Mercy of Eru Ilúvatar incarnate,
In the Light and Fire of the Final Dawn.
Upon them, they carry Arda's fate,
On their dawning the battle will be won.
The Light and Fire, seemly come too late,
Shall herald the call of the Final Day.'"
"What are you trying to hint at?" The Witch King became even more confused.
I must say that he is truly an unpredictable character. First to the Timeless Halls he brought me, then he said he forgave me, and now he recites poetry?
"A little something for your reference when you return. Consider it as, what you had said, a hint." The other said mysteriously.
Still not comprehending, the Witch King for some reason thought the poem to be crucial. He took it to heart and memorized it quickly.
"Forgiven you are, by me, but not by the Valar or by the people of Middle-earth," Ilúvatar suddenly stated, "Even you had repented of your past deeds; there will be a price to pay. You shall bear the consequences along with the ones you had already been carrying. Now hear my final judgment and decree!"
These last words were spoken with great authority and power. The white hall was soon resounding with the echoes of it. The Witch King involuntarily sprang up in alarm to face the Creator.
Now what have I done to anger him so?
"You will retain your form as a wraith, ever unseen and ever unfeeling. Your powers of sorcery will be stripped away, forcing you to rely not so heavily upon it. You will be shunned and despised until the day enmity is forgiven. Memories of the past will ever disturb you as you slowly discover it." Ilúvatar said in a grave voice.
"Punishments…" The Witch King faltered.
Had I not borne the consequences of my ill-made choice for thousands of years? Now there are more to add to my burden. At least it is better than being under Sauron's service again or being sent to the Void to join Morgoth. I think I can bear these. I did not really expect to get away completely with this. But to lose my powers of sorcery, I spent years on practicing and improving my skills on that! As for being despised and remaining as a wraith, I am used to it. What about the memories? What memories?
"I am able to bear them." The Witch King finally said.
"They are not of your primary concern, however," Ilúvatar warned, "You have a more important duty to be done. You must forgive Mairon, young one."
"Excuse me?"
"He knows that his ways will lead him on the ruinous path to the Void. He was controlled by his fear of Melkor. Mairon thought he could preserve himself in Middle-earth by conquering it and creating the One Ring. Instead it has brought him to his ruin faster."
Another of Ilúvatar's queerness to add to the list. This is getting unreasonable. He wants me to forgive Sauron, out of all things? Never in my entire lifetime!
"I cannot forgive Sauron, Ilúvatar!" The Witch King shot back, "You saw everything he did, the people he enslaved and the countries he destroyed. He slays thousands without hesitation. He took away everything I had and remembered. Heartless, he is. Cruel and without mercy. How can you expect me to forgive such a being? You had never experienced serving under his cruelty, and you demand such an impossible task from me."
"Of course I know of your sufferings while serving under him, so I am not pressuring you to do so right away. In fact, you may choose not to forgive him at all. But always remember that I forgave you, young one."
The Witch King again stopped in the middle of his words.
"I know it would not be easy to do so, but I trust that you can accomplish it. You are a noble character at heart, proved true when you made your sacrifice in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. You frequently thought of the others over yourself." Ilúvatar said thoughtfully.
"Noble? It failed…I was foolish to carry it out." The Witch King said shortly. He was now wondering why Ilúvatar brought it up. He was also surprised that he was actually complemented. The Witch King had never received a complement in his life. Insults and accusations aplenty, yes, but never praise or a word of encouragement.
"Not at all. If you hadn't done that, you would have to fight another unwilling battle."
"There is going to be another battle? What…"
"Ah, I think it is time for you to return." Ilúvatar said lightly. He seemed to stand up, and the Witch King followed. He was still pondering Ilúvatar's words and wondering about the fact that there will be another battle so soon. In fact, he would be pondering Ilúvatar's words most of the time in the future.
"I will be sending you a few hours ahead of time. You will find the armies of the West victorious from the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. They will be gathered at the Black Gate of Mordor and will be overwhelmed, for their presence only serves as a distraction for Mairon. His Ring will be destroyed from within his own land."
The Witch King felt strangely apprehensive, now hearing that Sauron was finally going to be defeated after so many years. But he now he knew that the Maia was surely going to the Void afterwards and meet the master he had always feared greatly, he became unsure of his conviction to live to see the day when Sauron was defeated. But one thing was certain. No matter what Ilúvatar had said, the Witch King won't be forgiving Sauron in a hurry. He would probably attempt on his life if he in some method met Sauron by chance.
"Prepare yourself, young one." Ilúvatar warned.
"Why do you keep calling me 'young one'? What is my true name?" The Witch King asked. He was curious about his name, which he had lost a long time ago. He had been known as "Lord of the Nazgûl" and "The Witch King of Angmar" throughout his life as a wraith. It had also been his greatest wish to regain his name.
"You will know it in time." Ilúvatar said kindly.
The Witch King tried to hide his disappointment. Here was one being who along probably knew his true name, and he had refused to reveal it! Before he could say anything, he was suddenly thrust away from the white hall. Everything spun and colors swirled before his vision. A great white noise roared all around. He was faintly aware of being pulled downward in a high speed. Even through all the chaos of sound and sight, Ilúvatar still seemed to speak.
"No matter what happens and what others say about you, remember that I had forgiven you. Nothing could ever turn that back." Ilúvatar said simply.
The Witch King stood on a cleft of rock jutting out from the rocky expenses that surrounded the Black Gate of Mordor. He could see the armies of the West gathered before it. Gandalf the Wizard was one of the leaders in front and he was speaking with the Mouth of Sauron. There was tension in the air, waiting like the water that was about to burst forth from a broken dam. The Witch King gripped the handle of his sword tightly. There was going to be a battle. The eye of Sauron still burned intensely on top of Barad-dûr. It seemed like nothing had changed since his journey to Valinor and the Timeless Hall. Except that he could in fact now see the world of the living with great clearness and that his mental connection with Sauron was no longer there. He also felt that the constant fatigue that stayed with him after the battle at Minas Morgul had disappeared.
I wonder what I should do now. Ilúvatar did not send me back to this time without reason. Perhaps the end of Sauron is near. Hmm…the irony. His true danger is right there in Mordor itself.
Something happened between Gandalf and the Mouth, who fled back towards Mordor. The Black Gates opened with an ominous creak slowly and the marching of metal clad feet was heard. The waiting soldiers of the West shifted their weapons at the ready as the forces of Mordor marched out to surround them. Even though Sauron's army had been defeated at the Battle of the Pelennor Fields, they were still far from being reduced significantly. The armies of Gondor and Rohan were outnumbered just like before. The Witch King drew his sword and held it in front of him with both hands. He could see the eight Nazgûl wheeling above on their fell beasts.
I cannot allow them to see me, not yet.
The two armies started battle immediately. At the same time the Witch King leapt down from the rock he was standing on and landed behind the outer fringes of the armies of Mordor with a clang of his metal boots. Surprised at the sound, the orcs turned around only to have the Witch King's sword cleave into their necks. He spun around the weapon with deadly accuracy to run through another orc who was about to swing a mace at him. Without stopping, the Witch King snatched up the fallen mace and attacked a group of Easterlings who were trying to stop him, sending them careening into another group. There were guttural shouts of exclamation that came from the Haradrim who rushed at him with their weapons.
"I thought you were dead! You were slain during the Battle of the Pelennor Fields!"
"How did you come back?"
"Why are you fighting those from your own side? We all serve Sauron. He will be furious!"
"I am no longer on Sauron's side, nor do I serve him." The Witch King said calmly he sent several more orcs flying with his mace.
Review please! I have a feeling that the next chapter will be even harder to write...