His Corrupted Heart [Witch-King x OC]

Chapter VI : Bridges of Trust

"The key ingredient to building trust is not time. It's courage." -Patrick Lencioni

10 Miles South of the High Fells of Rhudaur

Dawn broke the eastern horizon and the light of a new day spilled onto the land. Inconnu had been awake half and hour beforehand. She wasn't sure if the Witch-King was already awake or was still in a deep sleep, but internally she was glad if he still rested as she wanted some time for herself. Inconnu didn't want to confront him just yet. Right now she was rummaging through her saddlebags, checking the state of her supplies. While doing so, her lips gradually formed a frown.

She was getting low on dried meats and other foods that could last a long journey. A few times she had taken a bite of some Waybread, but there was still plenty. Enough to last another month or two. Inconnu would need to go hunting soon, and her senses told her she would not find suitable prey so close to the Nazgûl Tomb. She needed to get further away from the darkness that place emanated, affecting the surrounding area and making any sort of wildlife unwilling to come near. Inconnu sighed softly and checked her other supplies, of which she was glad to see that none had yet to deteriorate due to time or harsh weather conditions.

She then inspected Sverundr's tack, noticing the wear that was beginning to accumulate. Inconnu was going to have to replace them soon, otherwise one day the rough threading that bound the pieces together would break. Under what circumstances, Inconnu couldn't say for sure, but were it to happen during a hunt... definitely not a good thing. A large head then pushed lightly at her shoulder and Inconnu looked over it to see Sverundr. She smiled, turning a little so she could rub his nose affectionately and he nickered softly in response.

"You're wearing out your tack again." Inconnu mock-scolded him.

Sverundr simply snorted and nudged her hand so she wouldn't stop petting him. She laughed quietly and indulged the large stallion, who looked quite happy and very satisfied with having her attention. After another minute or so of this, Inconnu began to feel faint hunger pains and she easily retrieved a bite of Waybread from the saddlebag. This would keep her satisfied until she was in better hunting grounds. When she swallowed the bite, Inconnu heard shifting of heavy cloth and the Witch-King's familiar hoarse baritone reached her ears.

"You are different in friendly company."

His words were flat, stating plain observation and the what cheery mood there was soon thinned into a faint thread. Inconnu hung onto that lifeline however, refusing to let the atmosphere be taken over by his dourness.

"Everyone acts differently depending on who they surrounded by. Oftentimes dramatically so, and no one is exempt from this." She replied easily to counteract his mood.

"Even one such as I?"

"Even one such as yourself, Er-Murazor."

In the corner of her eye, she saw the Witch-King stiffen at the spoken word that was his name. Briefly, she wondered why he reacted so negatively to his own name. His next words matched that trend however.

"My name falls so easily from your lips." His tone was accusatory though at what specifically it could not be discerned, whether it be at her or himself.

"Its does, as it is your name and I wish to address you by it for a name is far more powerful than any number of titles one might possess. Titles can exchange hands but a name is something else."

"Names too can be passed down, your meaning is lost." The Witch-King retorted, but Inconnu's reply cut deep.

"And yet here you are, your mind your own again not through your titles but through your name. I could have addressed you as either the Witch-King of Angmar or the Forgotten King of Numenor, but the results would have amounted to nothing. Names have power, and so their meaning is not lost."