1. Embrace the Darkness As It Descends
She looks so beautiful, I think, watching the sleeping form of my wife as she tosses and turns. It would be such a shame for her to fall into ruin. The thought comes suddenly into my mind, but I cannot send it away. What will happen in the future?
"My Lord, the one who calls himself 'Annatar' wishes to speak with you." I turn around, hastily allowing the papers to fall to the desk.
"Tell him I will be there momentarily," I say, pushing the chair out. My eyes fall onto the documents that lay on the desk, reports of rebel groups and insurgents in the realm. Why did this fall to me? I wonder, walking toward the door. I never wanted the kingship, yet it was passed to me upon my father's death.
As I leave the room, my eyes fall onto the figure only a few feet away. He is resting in a chair, reclining nochalantly. He knows I am here, I realize, even though the man's head is turned away.
"Hello, Lyar," the man says, still facing the opposite direction.
"Hello, Annatar," I answer, although I am the one who holds the authority. "What brings you to Angmar?"
"I have a gift for you," the man answers, pulling a leather pouch from his cloak. "It is a mighty thing, indeed, fit only for a king." He draws the word 'king' out, looking at me with a glint in his eyes.
Before I can utter a word, he throws the pouch to me, lying back in the chair. It cannot hurt anything, I think, hesitantly lowering my hand into the bag. My fingers lock onto something hard, metallic, and I lift it out. A ring? I think, looking toward the man. How is a ring a 'might thing, indeed'?
Aware of my doubt, the man raises himself up, and says, "That is more then an appealing piece of jewelery, Lyar. It contains power beyound your wildest dreams, power that you could use . . . for whatever purpose you desire."
"Such as . . ."
"You can control the hearts of men, master an art you pursue, and that is only the beginning." The strange look is in his eyes again, as though there is something he will not tell me.
"Why would I want to do such a thing?" I ask, confusion written on my face. "That is an evil thing to do, no matter what the purpose."
He scowls, staring me straight in the eyes. "Have you not heard the word on the streets, the reports that now lie in your palace? The people are not satisfied Lyer, and unless you gain more strength or some how master them, they will kill you." He pauses momentarily, almost smiling. "They will kill her."
Reya, my mind screams. "Fine," I answer shakily, leaving the room. "I will give it more thought, but only for the sake of my wife. Nothing else."
"Of course, nothing else," He repeats, almost mockingly. "Remember, though, Lyer: darkness has come, and you cannot escape it. If you try to hide, if you try to run, it will find you, and all you hold dear will be destroyed. Things are always better when you do not struggle, but go willingly. Think about it." He passes by me, deliberately bumping my shoulder. Think about it, my mind echoes.
Another hour has passed it seems, and I am still unable to sleep. My thoughts turn toward the gold band resting on the table. Picking it up, I stand by the window, gazing out. Raising my arm, I begin to throw the ring to the ground below but something stops me. You desire power. You crave power.
I want nothing to do with power! my mind screams back, frightening me.
Use it for her.
I turn toward Reya, who still sleeps soundly, her mind lost from the perils of the world, if only for a short time. I pull the ring from the iron grip of my hand, and slowly slip it onto my finger. It is for her, I tell myself, gasping slightly at the power I suddenly feel flowing through my body. Only for her.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.