Bringing Trouble to Barad-dur by Aiwen

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The Witch-King's Mother

Later that evening, Gil-galad stood watching as Sauron attempted to clean up the mess resulting from his failed battle and Gil-galad's interference. Orcs were currently wandering around below the tower looking for the papers Gil-galad had flung to the four winds. Gil-galad grinned. Given how high the wind had been when he'd done that, they were never going to find all of them.

Sauron was sitting on his living room sofa, directing the efforts of those around him. His left ankle and foot had been wrapped in bandages, black of course, and it was obvious to Gil-galad that he was avoiding putting weight on the foot. It didn't do, after all, for slaves and servants to see him hobbling about on crutches like an injured mortal.

A hideous shriek came from the balcony, and Gil-galad turned just in time to see a Ringwraith open the balcony door.

Sauron also looked up and around. Then he gestured to the other people in the room to leave and turned to the Nazgul. "Yes?" he said. "Your leader has failed me terribly today," he said. "I am not amused."

"Our son," said the Nazgul, "is dead in your service. Is that all you have to say?"

"Do not try my patience," said Sauron. His face was grim, but his eyes blazed even more than usual. "I have no son now."

"Thanks to your orders."

"Be silent! Zigur-adun would still be alive were he not such a fool. I have told him repeatedly not to be so careless around warriors who are not mortal men. Not that it did any good."

Gil-galad listen to this exchange, and his jaw dropped. The Witch-king was Sauron's son? And one of the Nazgul was female and the Witch-King's mother? And Sauron's umm... eww.

"You pushed him too hard," the Nazgul said. "He was always trying so hard to impress you, that's why he took those risks."

"No, he took these particular risks because he was arrogant enough to believe that no one could hurt him, especially not some mortal girl who wasn't supposed to be on the battlefield at all."

"He was imitating you," the Nazgul said.

"How? I do not take unnecessary risks," said Sauron.

"Gil-galad and Elendil," said the Nazgul. "If you'd just continued running you might have managed to get away, but no you had to turn and fight Gil-galad. Then there's the whole Huan and the werewolf thing, and you fought Celebrimbor personally in Ost-in-edhil - "

"Would you be silent! I put up with a great deal from you but there are limits to my patience!" Sauron stood, then grabbed the the back of the couch for support and sat back down abruptly.

They both remained silent for a moment.

"My lord," said the Nazgul quietly, "what happened to your foot?"

The next few days passed more quietly, enlivened mainly by the pranks of Gil-galad and Celebrimbor, who now dared leave the prisoners alone for most of the day without fear that the wars between the elves and the dwarves would start up again - or at least with confidence that they would be restricted to name calling and not progress to physical violence. But down in the underground chamber, trouble of another kind is brewing...

Ioreth was lying half awake because of the pain in her back and listening to the water trickling over the rocks when she heard a noise as of something small being knocked down. She ignored it, for it was probably just somebody shifting in their sleep, or at most looking for the latrine. But then she heard the sound of a few pieces of gravel scrunching underfoot, and that was over by the stairs, not anywhere near the latrines.

She opened her eyes and looked to see a shadow darker than the surrounding dimness of the half-shielded lantern creeping furtively up the stairs towards the door. What was going on? The shadow continued up the stairs, silent now he had passed the bits of gravel at the bottom, heading for the hatch to the outside. "What are you doing!" she cried, struggling to get up using Mithwen next to her as a support. Mithwen yelped and grabbed her baby protectively. The boy started wailing, no surprise there.

As everybody muttered and groaned and woke, Duilin unshielded the lantern and took it from where it stood. He held it up, illuminating the entire scene, including Finrod standing halfway up the stairs looking sheepish. Ioreth frowned. Somehow, it didn't surprise her that it was Finrod causing the trouble. "I only wanted to take a look at the door to make sure we could open it if we needed to," he said.

"Then why are you doing that in the dark in the middle of the night?" said Duilin. "I think we have a traitor among us."

"I am not a traitor!" said Finrod.

"Then get away from the door," said Duilin, stepping towards him, still holding the lantern in one hand.

Finrod hesitated, then bolted for the door up the crumbling steps with Duilin in hot pursuit. Duilin tripped on a cracked step, and clutched at the stone to keep from falling. He dropped the lantern. This left him far behind Finrod. One of the elves caught the lantern and held it high as Finrod reached the top and grabbed for the latch, then suddenly clutched his face and fell right off the stairs, landing hard on one of the pallets, then sliding to the stone floor. Beside Ioreth, Mithwen laughed. Ioreth looked around creakily. "Never be without a rock," Mithwen said.

The elf passed the lantern to Master Nali and knelt down beside Finrod. "He's alive but he's hurt," said the elf. Ioreth squinted, but though she recognized him she couldn't remember his name. "I think his nose is broken, and he may have a concussion from where he fell off the stairs. What are we going to do with him?" he asked, looking at Duilin.

"Kill the traitor!" said Damrod. A few feet away, Master Nali nodded fiercely.

"I think we should wait for the chalk-fea," said the elf. "They have the Valar on their side and they are at least somewhat in charge of us all." The elf then wrinkled his nose slightly - "and I can't think of a reasonable way to dispose of a body down here, can you?"

"No, killing him would be dangerous for the health of the rest of us," said Damrod.

"I'd better see about fixing him." the elf replied. "If one of you could please pass me some bandages?"

"I don't know where they are," said Ioreth.

"Do we have any?" said Mithwen, peering at one of the pallets as she bounced her baby.

"This is some sort of supply depot, so there ought to be some around here somewhere," said the elf. "We could use someone's tunic, but it would be better to have something we're certain is clean." After some minutes of searching, they found the bandages and got Finrod cleaned up, after which they bound his hands.

Middle of the night or not, few of them slept much after that, including Finrod who woke about half an hour later with a headache and other assorted complaints. At some point during the middle of the next day - or what they assumed was the next date, it wasn't as if it was easy to tell down here - the chalk lifted itself and they knew that their watchers were back. Immediately the air was filled with a babble of complaints.

 

A/N: Because who knows anything about the Nazgul under those robes and the invisibility?

 

 

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