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Story of Ninth Nazgul

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Far north, highland at the foot of Ered Mithrin

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Black rider stopped and looked around, sniffing in cool, night air.

Dawn approached, but sun was still hidden behind jagged mountain pass. Autumn was coming, and in northern lands already could feel the icy blast of winter; he wrapped tightly in traveled cloak and pulled deeper the hood, when piercing chill burst under heavy material.

In slowly fading darkness his eyes glittered with barely visible, reddish glow. He hurried black mare and followed the old northern tract, heading toward Ered Mithrin pass. Behind, he led on a halter another horse, which trotted anxiously and snorted.

Some days took him to get through valleys and canyons; it were very old mountains, and their roots reached deep into the earth, treacherous and fragile, like a giant’s bones, lying over the years in sun. Once he heard the thud of falling rock, and his horse froze in place, snoring and cuddling ears, until men dismounted and led him by the bridle, covering animal’s eyes.

Finally, canyon walls become lower and smoother and narrow passage led him out into open space. As the eye could see, there was endless steppe; upland landscape was green, but barren-  soil was dry and hard. Finally he heard quiet whisper of water, and rode downstream, towards north.

 

Before dusk, sounds of human speech reached his ears and he felt smell of baked bread, when reached a significant colony- capital of northern kingdom.

- Horsemen! - shouted guard at the gate - Stop and give us your name! -

Nazgul obediently stopped and waited. He pulled out from between folds of garments a leather tube with image of fiery Eye and emissary letters, passing both documents to the man, who now looked at him with awe and respect.

- This way, noble lord. His Majesty will be notify immediately about your arrival. - 

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- What a beauty… - whispered tenderly Uvatha, stroking shiny, slender neck of black mare. Mount was truly outstanding fairness, like one of descendants of mearas.

Emissary from Mordor was leaning on horse’s side, carelessly stroking it with glowed hand. He came with a message from Sauron, and proposal of alliance; he brought also a truly royal gift.

He was tired after long journey, and country to which he came was destroyed by war. Northern principality led constant fights; Uvatha was leader of one of them, known for his cruelty and mastery of war. His people could no longer resist against expansion, and young king was willing to enter into alliance at any cost, just to get support of armed troops. At the same time, as well know Jl- Indur, he had a great weakness for horses.

- She’s yours. - he said - It's a gift from my master to prove his good will and peaceful intentions. - 

Uvatha bowed slightly, putting his right hand on heart, on ancient kings manner.

- I accept his generous gift. Alliance will be concluded. -

Indur smiled inwardly. Now only one matter left…

- We will discuss alliance’s terms during the supper. - Uvatha with wide gesture invited him to follow.

Tired and hungry, emissary with true relief went to banquet chamber. Just like whole village, royal court was a simple building, made of roughly hewn wooden logs and stone. Colony was located among the highlands and rachitic forests of Ered Mithirn, and compared to Mordor its capital presented very poor and primitive. People also weren’t wealthy; mostly clothed in animal leathers and furs, or simple woolen tunic. There were no paved roads, only dusty, sandy paths.

- Worse pigsty than Edoras. - thought Indur not very kindly.

He looked at back of his host, surrounded by several advisors and armed escort. Uvatha was tall and muscular, with long, fair hair braided in a loose knot and cold, bright eyes. His physiognomy betrayed Rohan roots with some mixture of northern people’s blood.

First villagers gave scared, unfriendly glances to newcomer from Mordor, but when all sat down to supper, turned out they can welcome guest like royalty. After a solemn oath of servitude to Sauron, it began a feast in company of deserving warriors and advisors, which lasted until dawn.

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- Wine! - roared Uvatha and handmaid immediately set before him a pitcher, looking with fear at the stranger. She dug her eyes to the ground and blushed, trying to avoid master’s sight, who gave her a cold, lustful gaze. But before he could make any movement, woman turned and fled. Uvatha, not discouraged at all, filled guest’s chalice ignoring his protests.

Indur rubbed his temples trying to focus thoughts. He was already heavily drunk.

He had strong head, but now barely restrained himself to not fall asleep at table. His host was in even worse condition- he barely kept straight. Wine hasn’t good influence on him- solve his tongue and took away manners.

Despite that, Indur definitely liked him. In Mordor lived very few people… Numenoreans were usually haughty and serious as death itself, and easterling secretive and taciturn. He missed someone of similar to his own nature, with whom he could enter into bonds of friendship.

They raised another toast and Uvatha proposed, they spared courtesy and titles, and turned to each other by name.

Nazgul decided that now is right time to proceed the second part of his secret mission. Carefully brought conversation about the war and military power of Mordor. Uvatha listened clearly interested.

After a while he began to say in low voice about problems in north. He bore great losses in battles against the enemies of Rhun, whose advantage was crushing; except that in summer attacked them orcs of Gundabad, who looted and plundered like crazy. A few soldiers left, and people were lost. Slowly they began also to oppose their king.

Indur listened, nodding his head understandingly; he was once in similar situation. At the same time he smiled inwardly, because his mission was developing very successfully. Uvatha won’t refuse to join them… Although he initially had doubts about this man, now reassured they were baseless. They needed him, and he desperately needed allies.

He raised his chalice, which was still half full, and drank a little sweet, aromatic wine.

- I could help you more than you think… - he began with seemingly casually tone - Mordor’ll send troops, but Sauron offered something else… -  he lowered voice and leaned to his caller - Power that brings peace to your lands forever… Might and strength, of which ordinary people can only dream… -

Uvatha stiffened and stared at him in disbelief.

- How…? - he muttered - What power would allow to defeat stronger enemy…? And how I deserved such grace?

- It's about you, only about you. - said Indur - Sauron gathers around him men with exceptional abilities… There are eight of us, but we still need one more… We are the pupil of his eye.

Uvatha slightly moved away.

- You… You're one of the nazgul?! - he choked, turning pale clearly.

Indur slowly nodded. Now young king saw reddish gleam in his eyes, like coals glowing inside.

He realized, that in stranger’s appearance was something ghastly; unusually pale, sallow complexion and blue mosaic of veins on skin. When shook his hand before, he had impression that put his own palm in a vise; so cold and strong was newcomer’s embrace.

Despite this, emissary had quite handsome, noble face. His features- prominent jaw, high arched nose and gray eyes, suggested an admixture of blood of Numenor; though he wasn’t as high as other descendants of Ancient Kings.

He was clothed in black and only jewelry he wore, was silver ring with blue stone. Well built, but didn’t looking at strongman, messenger somehow seemed to be threatening… Surrounded by aura of strength and natural confidence, although modestly clothed and slightly hunched. It was also some darkness in him.

Uvatha felt towards the men respect and some sympathy, but now he was overwhelmed with superstitious fear.

- You came for my soul…?!

For a moment Indur looked at him stunned, then burst out laughing.

- Oh please, I didn’t think you believe in these superstitious. - he said, still grinning - Anyway, after what I have heard about you, I doubt if you have soul at all… And if so, it’s of questionable quality. -

Uvatha also smiled and slightly relaxed.

- So what I own, what may desire the ruler of Mordor? -

- Cruelty. - answered seriously Indur - Lust of power, skills… and ambition. Oh yes, ambition is a trait all of us… It led us there, where is no turning back… -

Uvatha stared intrigued on sharp guest’s profile, and his words, though bitter, was also strangely comforting… It was like finding a soul mate and discover that he is no longer alone. Evil lurking in him, all these primitive lusts that manners only covering, woke up and screamed in unison. He could have power, be able to defeat anyone who dares to enter his lands. He could have everything… Aren’t gods- kings worshiped, no matter what they wish as a sacrifice…?

It didn’t even occur to him to refuse; in one time he made the most important, most binding decision of his life. Nazgul’s eyes gleamed and wraith rose and lead him to more secluded place. He slammed door behind, in king’s private chamber. Then leaned so close, their faces shared from each other only inches and whispered:

- Take it. This is source of new power. - pushed in his hand small, heavy object. - When you put it on your finger, it will be no turning back… -

Uvatha opened his palm and looked at silver ring; smooth, with a delicate ornament and small amber stone in the middle.

- What could happen…? -

- I don’t know. Probably nothing bad… -

- You will stay with me? - he asked, suddenly a little scared and unsure.

- I will. -

Uvatha put the ring and closed his eyes. At first nothing happened, but he felt a slight tingling sensation, as if power passed through his body. After a while, however, under his eyelids flashed fiery vision of the Eye. He jumped rapidly.

Indur held him by the arm.

- I feel strange… - murmured Uvatha.

- It's only temporary, soon will pass. Sit down. -

He obeyed, and after a moment unpleasant feeling, as if someone looked on him from a distance, getting to know the most secret thoughts and memories passed. 

- What the hell was that…? - 

- Our Master. - 

-What…? -

- He is a great sorcerer, who sees all… He pierced with his gaze air, earth and flesh… -  

 Uvatha narrowed his eyes and waited, tensed and focused. After some time, when nothing more happened, he shrugged and lay down on wide bed, all covered with leather and furs. 

- Magic gave me a break for now. - he murmured and fell asleep in instant.

Indur smiled slightly, and making sure that young king still has a ring on his finger, rose unsteadily and left  the chamber.

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At the door, bumped on him maid servant, who was pouring wine at dinner.

- I beg pardon… - she stammered, trying to pass him.

Indur grabbed her by forearm. His cold, pale fingers tightened with force that momentarily bruised delicate body. He loosened grip with sudden feeling of guilt; he not ruled yet over his new power.

- My chamber. - he said.

Maid pointed with shaky hand.

- This way… sir… -

Nazgul released grip, and she fled as if chased by all demons of primeval world.

Finally, he opened the door of guest’s room and semiconscious collapsed on bed, not even taking off his clothes.

- Full success. - congratulated himself inwardly, but it was the last conscious thought before he fell into a deep sleep.

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He woke up feeling terrible pounding in head. His mouth went dry completely, and air in room smelled digested wine.

He sat up slowly, barely refraining nausea and shakily stood up, looking around. He didn’t see anywhere bathroom chamber, or even isolated lavatory. But in corner was a wooden bucket and stone bowl, filled with ice water. He whined inwardly.

- What a fusty country… -

After weeks spent in the way, he hoped for a long bath, but apparently had to satisfy with cursory washing face and hands.

In Mordor everyone had access to hot water, from volcanic source, brought at long, engraved in solid rock channels to baths located in one of buildings at the foot of citadel. Cold, spring water, intended only for drinking, was sourced with few streams flowing down from the mountains, or southern tributaries of Lake Nurn. In countries of North he could at most bathe in icy river, risking drowning, or getting shot.

Anyway, for some time Indur felt strange aversion to running water… Still rain or a small stream did not stop him, but at sight of river he felt chilly shivers.

He noticed a clean change of clothes rested on chair, but after seeing clumsy, gray tunic and caftan made from raw deerskin, he decided to stay at his own tattered and dirty clothing.

Soon, servant knocked at his room, bringing a meal. Nazgul left his late breakfast untouched; yesterday's wine and delicious bushmeat still were lying hard on his stomach, and nausea tormented him even by an hour.

- No more liquor stronger than cider. - He promised himself solemnly, as always did in similar circumstances.

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A half day later he sat again with mug of strong beer in his hand, feeling a little better.

If Uvatha was in morning in equally bad condition, he not showed anything. They led light, conversation on informal issues, but nazgul all the time felt, that young king want to inquire only about one thing. On his finger gently glowed silvery ring.

Finally, the inn somewhat emptied and they could talk openly. Indur briefly told his own story and all what he knew about forging and power of the Rings.

- Wait… - Uvatha interrupted him, amazed - I remember, you said about superhuman strength and endurance, but immortality…? How is that possible? -

- Honestly, I have no idea. - Indur spread his hands - but it seems to be true… And then there is a matter of…transformation. You cannot live forever in mortal body… That's why our bodies and minds will change. They will become stronger, some features will be strengthened, and some human instincts extinguished… So our Lord said. -

- But you’re not a ghost. You're still a men… - he hesitated; actually wasn’t so sure… In his companion was something decidedly dark, something that had no relation to his behavior or character.

- I am… But not for much longer… I feel it. -

There was a long silence, when young king digested the news. Indur feared his reaction; expected fear, or anger. It surprised him how quickly Uvatha decided to take a ring… He himself was a man who knew what he wanted, but on Sauron’s proposal meditated nearly a week… To his surprise Uvatha said finally:

- Well… If that is true… I admit it’s not a pleasant prospect, but much more than to humanity I am tied to my life. So it’s a fair exchange. - he raised heavy pitcher and nudged a pint of his companion - For our alliance. -

 

Late at night they both went to rest, drunk again almost into oblivion. Indur was mad at himself; he wanted to leave at dawn, but journey in state in which he wakes up probably, would be a torture. He stated, he need a little calmer company… Sometimes he had problems with drinking. He didn’t even get drunk purposely; just once he started, he couldn’t stop.


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In the morning he woke up, feeling maybe not quite well, but certainly better than he expected. However, he decided to stay another day because as was said, today customarily began a festival.

It was the first October- as Uvatha explained, day in which more than seven hundred years ago, was laid the first stone for foundation of Mithrim’s colony. Festival was annual- custom passed from father to son, and every autumn, from sunrise to dawn, took a feast and swordfights. Anyone could take part in it, as long as he was able holding a weapon, and before sunset a winner was selected, who traditionally had to fight a duel with king. If he won, according to ancient custom, he embraced the throne.

Indur was very surprised hearing that.

- Foolishness… - he thought - It means that every peasant, or a random bully can attain the crown… It’s worse than free election… -

He came from a long dynastic line, and mere thought of such thing seemed to him at least inappropriate.

- It ever happened, that someone with inferior blood defeated the king? - he asked.

- Several times. - admitted Uvatha.

As a courtesy, Indur made no comment.

- Perhaps you consider it as not wisely… - added young king - but believe me, we have our reasons. The founder of colony was rohirrim, a distant ancestor of King Eorl… Who was exiled because don’t want to humble before his father’s will, and give to older brother the crown; though, that rightful heir was coward, drunkard and fool… It ended in bloodshed, and his decision, that no precedence of birth should decide of right to the throne, but ability to wield a sword… Good king cannot rot in his chamber, surrounded by gilded walls and soft rugs, but fight on par with his soldiers, and if necessary, die with them… -

- But he should have equal versed head as arm… -

- Inferior blood doesn’t mean a simpleton. - stated Uvatha - Maybe we are not scholars, like blood descendants of Númenor… But wisdom of old hasn’t gone into oblivion. -

Nazgul considered this.

- Actually… There is some sense. - he said - I've seen eorlings court; their kingdom slowly falls. In power are the courtiers, who haven’t seen a battle, and probably even a sword… -

- May you participate in tournament? - offered him suddenly Uvatha. - Newcomers are also included in tradition. -

- A tempting offer, but I am forced to reject it… Cause in the end I would have to fight with you. -

- You’re very self- confident. -

Indur gave him wolfish smile.

- Not without reason, believe me. -

- Still, I insist. Unless you're afraid of losing the combat… -

- I'm afraid, rather, that I will be too good. - nazgul thought. - And defeat you in front of your people… - But he knew that would offend the king, rejecting invitation.

- Fight to disarmament? -

- Or to the first blood. -

- Let it be. - 

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The tournament started soon, and entire population numbering less than three hundred, as well as newcomers from further lands who arrived specially for that occasion, gathered in main square, which was temporarily transformed into fight arena. Successive combats were played, emerging best, when onlookers spurred their favorites to fight.

Indur had to admit, it was one of the best tournaments he saw. Level was surprisingly high; seemingly necromancer correctly rated people from the north as a brave and skilled in art of sword.

He had stand to fight in last ten. Cause he didn’t use sword from a few weeks, hand itching him mercilessly. He knew, that would have to restrain his hot temper to doesn’t hurt anyone deathly; accidents happened, but rarely. Over nearly four hours, on bier lied only one knight, who unluckily got shot right into his guts.

Finally, it was his turn. Old man, probably starost, read aloud:

- Jl - Indur from Mordor will face Halet from Carnen. -  

Halet was one of newcomers; beside him still remains five local men and one from Dale Kingdom.

He was a tall, dark-haired knight in prime of life. Wiry arms, covered nothing more than a leather vest, betrayed strength born of hard work. His torso was protected bylong, double chain hauberk.

Nazgul got rid of his black cloak and stood to fight only in linen shirt and breaches, with no armor or even gloves; only with slender sword in hand. They looked at each other, and in one moment newcomer from Carnen realized, that he won’t beat a messenger of Mordor. Barely they exchanged first blows, it turned out, stranger have overwhelming advantage strength and technique. After a moment, Halet’s sword stuck into the ground twenty feet away.

There were a few cheers and timid applause, but most of spectators remained silent. They feared the nazgul.

Just as quickly he crushed other opponents, playing well at the same time, and specially not overstraining.

Uvatha frowned. He had expected messenger’s win; even persuaded him to take part in tournament just because he wanted to test his skills. He didn’t expect however, that nazgul is so good…

He took off steel gloves, shin guards and chain armor, also staying only in light clothing and rose from his seat, seeing as Indur throw last opponent on the ground, putting his blade to men’s throat and calmly waited for announcing his victory.

He didn’t seem even tired; on his forehead showed only few drops of sweat. Uvatha was concerned. He was well aware, that nazgul tried to warn him, wanting to save a disgrace… He should listen.

Now, however, there was no turning back; he wiped his hands to blade doesn’t slid during the fight, and took hilt of heavy sword. They stood facing each other, and bowed heads in a ceremonial bow.

There was a heavy, almost tangible silence; people glanced fearfully at newcomer from Mordor, and  at their king, who until now was undefeated.

-You begin. - said Indur.

Uvatha attacked. He was good in art of sword and fast. How painfully was surprised, hearing the blade rang of opponent’s parade, which quickly turned into counterattack. Uvatha barely keep up parrying the blows, and their strength made him winced every time. Regained a little his breath after initial shock, he attacked from different angle, changing technique and trying to adapt to nazgul’s steps. He did a little better; several times he was close, and Indur didn’t seem so relaxed now.

He feinted cut from left, that quickly turned into strong, low thrust, in feet. Steel gritted on steel, striked sparks in the air. Uvatha suddenly saw that Indur barely noticeable smiled. His next shot was a little too slow, uncovering his body for a moment. Uvatha quickly took a chance, feeling like his sword passes through defense and hurts nazgul’s arm. At last moment he managed to deflect the blade, so cut wasn’t deep, but enough to spurted blood.

- Enough! - cried old men - Fight resolved! -

Indur lowered his sword, still smiling slightly and bowed to opponent.

Uvatha returned bow and accepted enthusiastic greetings and cheers in his honor.

Festival came to end, and feast began.

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Emissary from Mordor sat on honorable place beside the King, at the head of table full of plates with roasted meat, bread, cheese and fruits. There were also many strong drinks in large, tin pots- wine, cider and strong bear. All around servants were bringing all needed, and fire camps blazed giving soft light and warm.

- I need to ask you something… - said Uvatha - Why you throw a fight? -

Indur shrugged.

- I didn’t want victory… Anyway, I had to work very hard with you, if it improves your mood. -

- I don’t need pity. -

- Of course. But I wear the ring for much longer… I decided, it wouldn’t be fair. -

Uvatha somehow digested that explanation and finally nodded his head.

Still, he felt like a fool.

-----

The next morning Indur said, he must leave; duties awaited him in Mordor, and his master doesn’t tolerate tardiness.

Uvatha discovered, he bids farewell to emissary with some regret; he sensed in him a kindred spirit, and the rings created some bond between them. They shared same secret, and soon had to share the same fate.

He gave him food and water supplies, and beautifully crafted bow made from yew tree.

Indur watched the gift with admiration- it was really masterly work. Though, he wasn’t good archer; both in Mordor and in his homeland far more appreciated were crossbows as required far less precision and strength. It was enough to load and draw the trigger to release an arrow able to break iron breastplate.
Indur actually hadn’t opportunity and true will to perfect himself in shooting. Besides, fighting in distance he considered in his heart for cowardice; he preferred to settle all misunderstandings with bare iron or fists.

Now, however, accepted the gift with gratitude and bowed slightly to young king. After a moment, servant brought his horse, saddled and ready for road.

Uvatha bowed ceremonially, placing his hand on chest, but when emissary embraced him for farewell, he barely mastered a sudden impulse to move away.

Nazgul’s body was cold; under the fingers he sensed, even through layers of clothing, cool and hard muscles on his back. Immediately reminded him how once, spending the night in forest, he accidentally touched a snake, when reptile crawled under his blanket. Now impression was similar- cold, muscular body, moving with a smooth, full of strength grace.

He was like a serpent…Or like someone dead for a long time. Only, that deceased do not walk, do not speak, nor laugh. Slight shiver went through him.

These thoughts run through his head quickly, and when Indur loosened his grip and stepped back, young king managed to master his face and keep quite calm expression.

- Farewell, my fellow. - said nazgul and mounted his horse - Soon we will meet… I will lead you then to our master. -

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It's story about the last in nazgul command- Uvatha, who received the ring of mortals and soon become most vicious of wraiths... Hope you enjoy ;)
And sorry for my bad english ;P 
© 2014 - 2024 dead01
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TheMaiaNightmareMoon's avatar
Yay! More Nazgul tales! :D Will you do more about Khamul or Indur? :)