His Corrupted Mind [Witch-King x OC]

Chapter II : A Stranger Is Born

"Fate determines many things, no matter how we struggle." -Otto Weininger

Second Age, 2002

Minas Ithil, nestled in the Mountains of Shadow that made the natural border of Mordor, was an essential defense for Gondor. It would be the men of Minas Ithil that would be the first to defend the great kingdom should any attack come from seemingly dormant shadows that lied in Mordor. Yet time had made the people of Minas Ithil lax and they were not able to hold their own for long against the might of the Nazgûl.

It was now the second year of the siege upon Minas Ithil and its defenders were weary and hungry. They had been cut off from Gondor, and all messengers who had rode forth to call for aid and been silenced by agents of the Witch-King. No help was to come to the weakened fortress and soon its mighty gate was to fall before the host of orcs. The vicious creatures were snarling and growling, many unable to keep still and jumped around, eager to cut fragile flesh and taste the blood of men.

The Witch-King, mounted upon his black horse, watched on as the massive log once again rammed into the gate of Minas Ithil. It buckled, it supports now beginning to fail. The other Ringwraiths' mounts shied a little, but the harsh control of their riders prevented them from doing any more than that. His own steed was still though, a statue until directed otherwise by the Witch-King. The gate again was rammed and this time the buckling was more prominent. Soon, Minas Ithil would fall to the might of the Witch-King.

Osgiliath

A woman of dark hair and fair skin screamed and gripped the sheets underneath her. She took in heavy breaths afterwards, the act having taken much of her energy. It had been a long ten hours of labor, and the midwife sympathized with the woman. This birth has been particularly difficult, and even she wasn't sure what would happen to either the new mother or the child. She gripped the woman's hand when another contraction came around, the woman groaning and gripping the midwife's hand like an iron clasp.

"All right, when it comes again, push." The midwife said in soothing tones in the new mother's ear. The response was a quick nod, and at that the midwife gestured with her free hand for her young assistant, a young girl who had not yet reached her sixteenth year. The girl took the woman's hand, freeing the midwife to prepare for the newborn's arrival.

The contractions hit again.

Minas Ithil

The gate of Minas Ithil had fallen, and the host of Mordor orcs swarmed into fortress. Death and destruction were, of course, what followed next. Only minutes later did the Nine ride into the fray, their screams stopping the men of Minas Ithil and forcing them to clutch their ears in pain, making them more vulnerable than they already were. The Witch-King veered his steed to a new direction, the others doing the same, and drew his longsword from his side.

The blade drew much blood, striking down many a man of Minas Ithil and any unfortunate orc that was in his way. A guard, a simple soldier had managed to return to himself after the fear had surged within him of the Nazgûl. The foolish man then charged at the approaching Witch-King, but had no chance of surviving the encounter. It was quick, a mercy really, as the Witch-King's blade pierced the heart of the man before moving on. He rode deeper into the fortress, seeking out the lord and master of Minas Ithil.

Osgiliath

The midwife smiled as she wrapped up the newborn in a clean cloth, and on the inside sighed with relief. Not only had the labor been difficult, but the birthing as well. She inspected the child again, checking for any signs of trouble that would become a problem later in life. Despite the child's small size and skinny frame, there were no obvious issues. Turning to the new mother she said in a cheerful tone, "You have a daughter."

The woman smiled faintly back, fatigue clear on her fine features. "Can I hold her?" She asked, and the midwife handed the child over with care. With a look to her assistant, both left the room to give the new mother some time alone with her newborn daughter. After some moments, the new mother's smile faded a little, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. She then caressed the wispy white hair on her daughter's head, and the newborn squirmed and yawned. The child did not open her eyes however, and seemingly went back to sleep. More moments passed before the new mother choked back a faint sob and said in a hoarse whisper, "I am sorry my little girl, that is you to be born to such a fate. Forever bound to a creature such as him. I only hope that you will one day forgive me, my sweet, sweet daughter."

The midwife entered the room again and the new mother looked up, slightly startled. Again, the midwife had a cheerful smile. "Quiet little thing, isn't she? I'll tell you, that one won't be giving you any trouble. I almost envy you." The new mother smiled, her previous thoughts and concerns over the fate of her newborn daughter nowhere to be seen.

Minas Ithil

It had not been difficult for the Witch-King to find his prey, in fact his prey had decided to come out from the safety of the inner walls and challenge the hunter. A mistake the Lord of Minas Ithil would pay dearly for.

The Witch-King dismounted from his dark horse, his gauntleted hand still holding his longsword. His prey was at the ready, and the Lord of Minas Ithil ran at him. A strike and parry, and after that first contact the Lord of Minas Ithil knew that he was outmatched. However, that did not deter him from defending his home, to give whatever survivors there were to escape to the safety of Osgiliath. He took the initiative again and from there a duel of swords commenced, man against wraith.

The man then slashed at the Nazgûl before him, aiming to take its head, but the Witch-King simply held his sword up and successfully blocked it. The Witch-King held it steady, unwavering as the Lord of Minas Ithil applied more force to try and force the wraith back. That was not to be though, as then the Witch-King, with a flick of his wrist, moved the man's blade aside with ease and in the same movement withdrew a dagger and stabbed it into the heart of the Lord of Minas Ithil.

The man looked down at the blade in his chest, then into the darkness that was perceived in the hood of the Nazgûl in front of him. Blood then trickled from the corners of his mouth before his body slid off the dagger and onto the ground. The Witch-King then released a scream, the screeching sound alerting all within the fortress that Minas Ithil now belonged to the Witch-King, the Black Captain of Sauron.

It was met not only by the cries of the other Nazgûl, but also with the bellows, growls and snarls of the Mordor orcs. Satisfied, the Witch-King made to move out of the room but an unseen force gripped and held him still. Anger quickly overtaking surprise, he tried to move but was unable to despite all his struggle against the invisible bonds. Then something changed, something he couldn't name. He looked to the west, seeing in the distance the city of Osgiliath. Something was there, something that called to him.

The spell then broke when the other Nazgûl rode in, gathering to him and then the Witch-King swiftly mounted his own steed and rode out from the inner walls Minas Ithil. Now they held to purpose of ridding Minas Ithil of men, completely and without mercy.