Subject: Eärnur
Author:
Posted on: 2014-01-06 16:11:00 UTC

The darkness

had lasted

a very

long

time.

"Wake."

The voice was less than a voice, and more than a command: a hiss, worming its way into his consciousness.

"Wake!"

His eyes snapped open. Where was it? He looked down at his hand, but it was gone, his finger was bare.

The voice chuckled. "You won't find it there, Your Majesty," it said mockingly. "It has returned to its master."

"No!" he exclaimed. "It's mine - my pre-"

"It is his," the voice snapped, "and you are his. If you ever wish to see it again, you will obey. You must... obey."

And now the second voice came, slithering into his mind, wrapping itself around his basest desires and ordering him upright.

He was standing before he realised what was happening. "No..." he moaned.

A shadow moved before him - but everything was shadowed now. Even the light that surrounded him was pale, washed out, a ghost light, a corpse light. He looked again at his hand, his bare finger where his precious ring had once sat. Even his skin seemed translucent, barely there.

The shadow moved again, and he saw it: the black robe, the dark armour beneath, the burning red eyes - and the crown.

"You!" he shouted, hearing his voice fall flat, feeling the snake in his mind coiling tighter. "You - what have you done to me?"

The Witch-King of Angmar laughed, long and low. "No more has been done to you," he hissed, "than you desired. A ruby ring with band of gold - strength, life beyond the knowledge of man... power."

He shook his head as if straining against bonds. "Gold - you said it would bring gold," he recalled, fighting through the haze of memories to that long-ago torture.

"And it would," the Witch-King agreed, "if it had gold to work on. But you are not one of those stunted mountain-dwellers, with their rock-like resilience. You are a man - and men are so very susceptible."

"I am a king," he said, shaking his head. "A descendant of Numenor."

"So was I, once," the Witch-King smiled. "It means nothing."

"I want to- I want-" He stammered to a halt, one eye twitching. "Where is it?"

"It will be returned to you in due time," the Witch-King told him. "But first - even a king must serve his master."

"I have no-" He cut off, feeling the serpent twining itself into his thoughts. And why shouldn't he obey? Even the dark Power that held him could not penetrate the depths of his mind, he was sure. And he needed his ring back...

"Service," he said, as if testing out the word. "Yes... I will serve."

"Excellent," the Witch-King said. "Then, Eärnur of Gondor, here is your first task: a skulking creature lurks in our valley. Find it - bring it to me - and perhaps our master will allow you to see your ring once more."

Eärnur bowed his head before the Lord of the Nazgûl and pulled his dark cloak around himself. "Yes, my lord," he hissed. "The master's will shall be obeyed."




The reason Eärnur is a good choice for Tenth Nazgul is because he is the one person known to have gone missing in Minas Morgul. He's the reason the Stewards of Gondor rule 'until the King returns' - because they never knew if he was dead. He rode off to face the Witch-King in single combat, and just... never came back.

hS

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