"You stand accused of high treason. You stand accused of murder. What is your answer to these charges?"
An uncomfortable silence fell over the room as everyone's eyes were fixed on her lone figure standing in the middle of the room. Slowly, she looked from one high lord to the next, until finally her gaze lingered on the man who was waiting expectantly for any words from her.
Instantly she called a friendly smile to her lips. "Innocent," she announced with confidence - as if any other answer was completely out of the question - and made eye contact with each of the men once more, nodding at them affirmatively, "I would call this matter an accident rather than deliberate murder."
"You stabbed the High Lord Gharos," one of the lords present reminded her, looking down at her from his elevated seat. She looked almost lost, so alone in the center of the spacious hall; surrounded by a dozen hostile southerners awaiting her verdict. "How do you think this matter can be considered an accident?"
In a dismissive gesture, she brushed his accusation aside. „Anyone could have done that."
"You stabbed him several times until finally a stab through the throat killed him," added someone else.
From yet another direction it was added: "And all this in front of his own guards."
A few seconds passed, in which nothing more than the steady whistling of the wind could be heard. While a storm raged outside, stirring up the hot sands of the endless Harad desert and bathing the sky in a reddish light, the heat was building up inside the desolate palace. A few stray beetles scuttled across the floor here and there before a breeze, coupled with sand, blew in through the narrow windows, dragging the insect with it.
She then let out a nervous laugh and shrugged her shoulders. "It was self-defense?"
Her question, dripping with sarcasm, left them assembled men dumbfounded. In their faces - some artfully painted, others draped with golden trinkets - she could see a mixture of resentment and anger, which was only further fueled by her bold manner.
The Haradrim people of southern Middle Earth were not known for their civilized customs and moral values. War was always raging among the various tribes - over land borders, fertile soil; over animals and slaves sold from one lord to the next. There was robbery, rape and murder. But it was only when a woman did the same as the men did all the time that this very behaviour seemed to become a problem.
Truth to be told, the High Lord Gharos - a vile bastard who couldn't keep his hands to himself - had more than deserved his fate. Her only regret was that his death had been so swift, rather than making him suffer for his cruel ways, for which he had become known throughout the Haradrim Empire. Unfortunately for her, the men present, who together formed the High Council of the Southern Princes, did not share this opinion.
Those damned hypocrites.
As the rustling of the wind continued to be the only sound that broke the uncomfortable silence, she looked again at the spacious room, once made of dark sandstone many years ago. It was inconvenient for her that she was in the seemingly endless desert of the Southland, far away from any normal civilization that inhabited the western parts of Middle Earth. At the same time, she was able to give credit to the assembled High Lords for all the effort they had put into having her escorted all the way here to face the judgement of their court - after all, they could have simply executed her. But the fact that the Haradrim had not done just that, despite the fact that the tales did not speak much of the mercy and patience of these people, pointed clearly to some ulterior motive for which the assembled high lords had let her live.
They wanted something from her - and it was solely her own curiosity that urged her to continue playing this wretched game. For if it were any other situation, she would have freed herself long ago from those annoyingly itchy ropes with which they had tied her wrists far too tightly and would have followed her original path east to the region of Khand.
This seemingly eternal silence, which was apparently used by the men to examine her body in a not exactly discreet manner, was finally broken by the lord who lingered in the center of the row of chairs and had previously listed the charges she had been accused of.
He was an elderly man whose face was almost completely painted white. His golden jewels, which adorned his entire figure in numbers, spoke of the high rank he held as one of the Haradrim - a high lord who had been undefeated for decades and thus unrivalled. One of the Undefeated. Those who, according to the legends of the southern people, had once been blessed by the Valar.
A many-told legend that she knew was a lie.
"What's your name?" he finally asked before he started moving slowly, walking down the few stairs from his elevated seat. She watched him with skepticism as he strolled calmly across the wide space and approached her.
In response, she merely shrugged her shoulders and summoned a passive expression to her face. "I don't know. I guess I forgot it."
A laugh, full of mockery and irony, echoed in the room. For a brief moment he averted his gaze from her and instead looked back at the other High Lords, much as if he expected their collective approval, until he looked at her again and continued to cover the remaining space between them. With each step he walked, his golden chains and gleaming jewels tinkled; with each laugh he continued to emit, it became a touch more fake and dangerous.
She was aware that she was playing a risky game - but after all the years she had already spent on this earth, it was the risk that gave her back a touch of the joy of life.
And that's why she just smiled when he finally came to a halt in front of her. She smiled as a madwoman would only do in the face of death. Or like a woman who had absolutely nothing left to lose.
"I have heard many things about you," the man finally breathed so softly that the other lords could barely understand, "about a witch from the west - sent to curse our men and kill our children-"
"-yes, and possibly eat them afterwards, too."
Her retort made his grin widen a touch, while at the same time he played menacingly with the golden hilt of his dagger. "About an elf who was long ago cast out by her own kin and sent into exile to be forgotten by her kind."
"Well, that would be a rather boring ending to my story, wouldn't it?" she commented again, smirking as well.
But once more, her unasked opinion was passed over and the man just continued talking. "And about a warrior whose skills in combat are absolutely lousy."
"All right, that rumour is probably true, I can't deny that."
"But despite all these tales, we do not know the truth. For what I see here before me is an ordinary woman," rudely he clasped her face with his filthy hands and turned it from side to side as if he were assessing her appearance closely, "beautiful to look at, but with a tongue that should be cut out-"
"I like my tongue," she interrupted him mockingly before jerking free of his grip.
He let her do so, but at the same time regarded her with such lust in his eyes that she wrinkled her nose in disgust. But in spite of her annoyance, she bore his unrestrained scrutiny with dignity and waited patiently for him to continue.
A little too long his eyes lingered on her chest, then he let out another laugh and looked up at her. "You could be sold as a fine slave - were it not for the high bounty placed on your name."
She had expected many things from the Southern Council meeting, but his answer was the first thing that surprised her since her arrival in the distant desert village. For a split second, that astonishment was on her face too, until she skillfully masked it with an amused grin of her own. "So even though I am an ordinary woman, I am worth a few coins after all? How very pleasing."
He returned her grin. And it was this superiority - this absolute self-assurance with which he looked down at her smaller figure - that finally made her nervous after all.
"Indeed - so tell me, Amara, Revenant: why is the Witch-King of Angmar out for your head?"