Story of Ninth Nazgul part II

Years passed, but time has not power over Mithrim’s king. His innate skills increased and he expanded boundaries of northern colony. According to Sauron’s emissary promise, he smashed utterly all enemies, casting out survivors far beyond own borders, and chains of Iron Hills, securing a long-term peace and prosperity.

Time of his rule was marked by wealth and blood; over the years was poured a lot of it and young king, always finding delight in battle and killing, found in himself such rage and passion, which he never suspected. His cruelty became legendary and earned him more unfavorable fame than courage and bravery. His name was spoken with fear and became a terror of all surrounding lands. No one knew about his secret, but some said, he sold his soul.

Uvatha realized quickly, that his body and mind changed, transformed by power of the ring, but it didn’t bother him too much. He was always a man of insatiable ambition and anger, down-to-earth and reluctant to thinking about the nature of good and evil. He did what he thought was appropriate, or what pleased him. Indulged his instincts, he drowned landholdings in blood, and in return provide peace and wealth to his people, who were afraid of him and worshiped him in same measure.

It lasted nearly nine years, but soon he began to feel strong urge to travel east. His advisers and henchmen were less and less numerous; king raised fear in them. Burden of years left no stigma on his face and body, and sometimes he barely managed to rule his own strength and hot temper.

Some of his senses sharpened enormously, but that seemed to happen at cost of his sight; at least for the day. At night, he saw better than ever. Also his intuition become more sensitive, giving him ability to foreseen in advance any threat.

He often thought about emissary of Mordor, who leaving his lands, made a promise, he’ll return. Years passed, and Uvatha was still waiting for black-clad rider.

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One night he had strange, disturbing dream. He wandered in darkness, among a dense fog, losing any sense of direction, feeling rising panic, when suddenly heard a voice from afar. Powerful and deep, called him by name. Uvatha dropped to his knees, struck by terrible power emanating from dark silhouette, visible against wall of flames.

- Come to me… - whispered stranger - It is time… -

Young king woke up suddenly, trembled and sweaty all over the body. He wasn’t sure if dream itself scared him more, or rather understanding that came along with it.

Not being able to fall asleep again, he began immediately prepare for road, when guard knocked to his room.

- What?! - Uvatha growled, opening door abruptly.

- My lord… - the man curled at sight of his agitation - Some traveler arrived… He demands a view… -

- How does he look like? - Uvatha asked urgently.

- Clad in black, of medium height, very pale… And terrifying… -

- Let him in, immediately. -

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- I felt, you will come. - said Uvatha at sight of familiar, clad in black silhouette.

Newcomer threw out deep hood and grinned.

- Welcome, old fellow. I promised to back, and here I am. Hope, you enjoyed years of reign. -

- Aye. - admitted Uvatha - It happened just as you said; my kingdom is safe, I assured it eternal peace and prosperity. -

- And probably you had some good fun, by the way? -

Emissary embraced him heartily.

- Good to see you again, my friend. - 

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They spent two days on preparations for road, giving some rest to newcomer’s mount.

Morning, the third day, their mounted horses and headed south, driving through row of onlookers, who bid farewell to them in silence, fearful.

Uvatha passed all power to his most trusted man- advanced in years, but skilled in art of sword and cautious. That was the only one who showed no fear and bowed his head, when travelers left through main gate.

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They drove through fertile and green areas. Landscape was monotonous; on the right hand they have periphery of Mirkwood and wide riverbed of Celduin, and on the left- endless plains of  Rhovannion. When sky was clear, on far horizon loomed towering peaks of Iron Hills, where took its beginning tributary of river Carnen.

Journey passed peacefully… Almost too peacefully on their likings. Indur also discovered, that in bright rays of august sun he sees far worse, but with nightfall his vision sharpened again. He didn’t share strange sensations with his companion, although they talked a lot on the way.

They already left behind Erebor, without losing way to western tract, and now rode along extending in the distance areas of Esgaroth. As far, as eye can see, there were a small villages, in which lived simple farmers and fishermen.

 

- I haven’t eaten a good meal for last week. - stated Uvatha - And wine is almost gone… Let’s come to some inn, and at dawn we’ll go forward. -

Indur nodded, though was reluctant to any delay. However, his empty stomach and general malaise won with feel of duty.

- Actually, why not… - he murmured.

Only that on western tract sniffed around too many guards and spies from west. If by chance, they discovered black riders true identity, it could turn very unpleasant… On the other hand, he was deadly bored, and just like his companion, willing to some brawl.

After a while they heard singing; not very beautiful, but loud voice of some young peasant, probably doing laundry on the riverbank.

Indur winced, but Uvatha tilted his head, listening carefully, with a slight, unpleasant smile.

- You hear that…? - he murmured.

- How couldn’t I… - Indur rubbed his temples - She’s yelling like a cat in heat… And what’s a horrible song… Let’s go and find the inn. -

- Village will be yet about two and a half miles away… - murmured Uvatha - But through fields we could shorten the way… And in the meantime, I would gladly meet closer that woman… - his voice became low and dark, eyes slightly narrowed in lustful grimace.

Indur realized, that his blood also slowly began to boil.

- No. - he snapped quickly, before sudden lust won with responsibility - We shouldn’t draw attention. We’ll go calmly the way, enter the inn, and then leave. And no fuss. -

Uvatha sighed resignedly.

- If you wish so… -

- At least, finally we’ll eat to heart's content. I feel sick from that dried venison, sipped with cold water… -  

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Soon they reached a village, dusty and tired, sweated in merciless heat as much as their mounts.

Tavern stood on main square, where except the wooden podium and rusted pillory, was nothing remarkable. Inn itself also didn’t present most impressive; it was more like a barn, and inside smelled of soured beer, mixed with intense stench of sweat and smoking. But at least there was food and roof over the head.

Indur felt overwhelming relief, when only hide in the shadows; instantly he regained his good mood.

They sat in corner, in most isolated place, behind a solid oak table on trestles. Maid servant with rotten teeth and dirty, red hands, put before them an impressive pitcher of cold beer and two mugs.

- What ye want, your lordship? - she asked in neutral tone, clearly bored.

- And what can you offer? - answered Indur - Only fresh, woman. Not some stinky, dry carrion of dead cow, which you found few days ago, roasted on sun… I have delicate stomach, contrary to rest of your customers… -

Maid looked at him with astonishment, as if he spoke in foreign language.

Indur sighed.

- I was joking… Nevermind. -

- Meat, roast, whatever… - explained Uvatha  - And slice of bread with cheese. And wine. -

- We have bushmeat… -

- Very well, give it here in a jiffy. -

She turned on heel and walked away quickly, seeing not very pleasant grin of younger men, who stared at her hungrily.

- No… Don’t tell me you, you want her too. - Indur grimaced in disgust - I would prefer to fuck my own mare… -

- Actually, why not. - laughed Uvatha - And I feel even greater desire to slay someone… I haven’t pulled out the sword for long… It’ll rust… -

- You promised me. I don’t want any trouble. -

- Easy, understood. - Uvatha raised his hands in innocent gesture.

- I hope so. -

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It was evening, in the tavern became nice and cozy, and locals began to walk down to supper.

Black riders sat at the table, after finished meal, and though they attracted many glances, no one tried to disturb them, nor start a conversation.

Everything would end well, if one of local men didn’t drink too much strong beer. After drying another pint, he suddenly stood up and walked unsteadily to the table in corner. In one hand he held a large pitcher, while another he put on ax tucked into his belt.

It was a huge men- tall and massive, with muscular arms of woodcutter and boorish, like in stone carved face. He gave the newcomers angry look of small, bloodshot eyes… And abruptly smashed a mug on table, spattering on them drops of golden drink.

Indur raised his head, yet still more surprised than angry.

- What the hell…?! -

- Get out of here! - roared the man - I don’t want here any scoundrels from north! -

- What did you said…? -

- I don’t like you. - stated the men with unwavering confidence of drunkard - Neither your buddy. Pale like dead, all in black, weapons which had to cost fortune… And ye sitting as if whole inn was yours! - he raised his voice, but now all watched the scene; talks and hum died down - Get the hell out, or I’ll kick you out!!! -

Uvatha rose from the table, with such wide smile on his face, that confused men took a step back.

- Why ye grinning, scoundrel?!! - he yelled, spraying spittle, and pulling ax from behind his belt.

- Cause thou pleased me. - Uvatha laughed, approaching in soft steps - I had a great desire to bleed someone, but I promised to not initiate brawls… And here, please… You push yourself under my blade…-

Now he showed in vile grin all teeth, and in his hand appeared slim, shiny sword.

Around was a murmur and people stepped back, just in case. Some left stealthily, leading their women.

- Come on, Bert, sit down! - cried alarmed voice - Leave him. -

However men didn’t intend to resign; red-faced and sweating like a hog, he waved his ax and stepped forward.

Indur wondered for a moment if not stop his companion, but then he just gave up.

He leaned back, with legs on table, watching the show. Under his cloak, however, he held own sword at ready, knowing from experience, that such fights too often turn into uneven brawl.  

- Don’t kill that miserable bastard. - he said quietly.

Uvatha nodded, waving with his sword and froze on slightly bent legs. He was as tall as his opponent, but much leaner. Peasants, however, instinctively feared him; slowly, despite drunkenness, began to feel it also woodsmen.

- Come at me. - nazgul urged impatiently - I’m waiting. -

- Waaait! - yelled someone in the crowd - That’s not fair! You have a sword, and he only ax! -

- Well said! - supported him another - Thou art surely some knight, and we are simply people, about fencing we know a shit! -

Uvatha rolled his eyes.

- Alright, alright… I’ll beat him with my bare hands. -

Enthusiastic cheers answered him, when he put down the sword. Men threw out his ax and with roar rushed at enemy.

Uvatha stepped back slightly, avoiding attack, raising his arms and hitting with all strength in other’s bullish neck. Men fell to one knee, but then he got up, earning at the same time another blow in ear.

Deafened and somewhat dizzy, he waved his fists, but hit only emptiness. He roared and cursed for a moment, until short and terribly strong blow in the chin knocked him down.

Uvatha kicked him few times in stomach and face, wincing with satisfaction, when heard muffled groans of pain and crack of broken bone. Finally he stopped and turned with obvious reluctance.

- I should feed you with your own guts, stinking swine… - he murmured, spitting on the ground.

Then in crowd initiated some movement. Indur saw a flash of iron.

- Beware! - he cried sharply.

Uvatha turned, but too late to avoid a cut; blade only slightly tore his shin, but in the air gushed blood droplets. For all became clear, that situation is out of control.

All backed away with a loud sigh, while men’s  six comrades surrounded black rider; each with an ax, knife or other clumsy weapon in hands.

Indur jumped into the crowd, without thinking twice, and struck down the first two, piercing them through. He pulled out both blades and threw one to his companion. Uvatha grabbed it and slashed the nearest peasant.

Frenzy erupted in tavern; moans, screams and curses resounded, while on floor and walls dripped fresh crimson. Maid who previously poured wine, made deafening squeal, cowering her eyes with hands.

Suddenly through the tumult broke a grim, piercing howl. Those, who were still on their feet, now fell to the ground, paralyzed with terror. Maid fell silent, when finally fainted. Shriek lasted, cutting the air like razor, sounding like voice of death itself. When it finally stopped, people lied curled, sobbing and covering ears.

Indur froze, terrified. He couldn’t believe, that sound came from his mouth. Instinctively he raised one hand to his lips, looking fearful and amazed.  Uvatha stared at him with his mouth open. He was the only one who endured.

Indur finally jumped to the exit.

- Come! - he growled.

No one even tried to stop them. They ran out of the inn, untied horses, and fast like a wind rode away, towards the eastern tract.

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