gorgoroth

A crimson and black dress was adorned on a young girl, barely eleven years of age. She was dressed like dark royalty, wearing a black crown upon her head. Her hair had grown long, neatly brushed back in curled locks. Her skin was white like snow. Her eyes were a dark gold brown. Seated upon a throne far larger than her, she held a sorcerer's scepter in her little hands, gazing out the red stain glass windows in the dark throne room belonging to her father.

She panted heavily, the sword trembling in her hands as sweat and blood dripped off her. The nine year old had never been in so much pain in her life. She looked up, her father shook his head in that calm cold disappointment. "Most of the blood on your body is your own. Child, you need to learn to be ruthless."

The torches of the black room illuminated them, on the steps to his throne. The Black Numenorean Lord, powerful and mighty, held a scrawny woman in heavy robes. He was tender in his embrace, soft and kind. She was his willing captive, fallen into his arms. The torches flickered as they stood in solitude. No one was here to see him weak, and to see him be weak with a slave. A high ranking, well off slave, but still a slave.

He asked her the same question once again.

As the three friends entered Mordor, an uncomfortable feeling passed through them, but they all ignored it. They kept moving through Cirith Gorgor, defeating any orcs in their path, and they passed through Carach Angren. If they all weren't immune to fear, a wave of dread would have taken over their minds - but with the presence of two Eldar, the shadow of Mordor was nothing to them.