His Corrupted Soul [Witch-King x OC]

Chapter XIII : Contemplation of Visions

"When your values are clear to you, making decisions becomes easier." - Roy Disney

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|SOUNDTRACK|

Arwen's Fate - Two Towers Soundtrack

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The sight of Minas Tirith from one of the outer corridors was awe-inspiring. Even with the reconstruction happening, the white stone reflected the bright sunlight. The people on the lower levels were bustling about their daily business. It was not only the Minas Tirith that was rebuilding after the fall of Sauron but the whole of Middle Earth. A new era was upon the Free Peoples of Middle Earth, one for the first time that is free of the looming darkness that had plagued them.

A coming era in which Er-Murazor was unsure of his place.

He stood there alone in that corridor, able to hear the people far below. Life was thriving in the aftermath of a terrible war and he struggled to anchor himself to such a thing. He had been these people's bane for thousands of years, killed their leaders - their kings - and all without remorse. That was no longer true, however, he has felt the weight of guilt upon his shoulder for some time now. What truly could not be ignored was the fact that he did not know how to live among mortal-kin anymore. The former Witch-King of Angmar has lived in that lingering shadow-life long enough to have forgotten those common mannerisms.

He wondered upon what he would do with his regained mortality. Er-Murazor did not wish to keep Inconnu away from the north. He often caught her staring in the direction of the Hithaeglir, her gaze distant yet determined. Inconnu's purpose called to her and he knew it would only become louder as time passed. He loved that she stayed with him, but it pained him to keep her from her role as the Huntress if the North because of the uncertainty of his own purpose.

Despite his inner turmoil, these nearly overwhelming thoughts, he made no sound as he watched the life of Gondor churn below him. This was until he heard light footsteps approach him further down the corridor. He turned his head and surprise appeared on his expression.

Awen of the Evenstar, the Queen of the Reunited Kingdoms, was walking down the corridor with ethereal grace.

She was also alone, no entourage that was customary for royalty to possess.

When she was close enough, Er-Murazor bowed deeply in respect.

"Your majesty," he said barely above a deep murmur, but when he lifted from his bow the Numenorean was stunned to find the newly-made queen in the women's counterpart of his bow. When she lifted from her curtsy he asked quietly, "Why do you offer such respect to me?"

"Were you not a king of Numenor once?" Her reply was spoken with a kind smile, and it was a kindness Er-Murazor had only seen once before. His own beloved spoke to him with an equal measure of kindness.

"Not truly," he then said, "And not long."

Arwen then stands at his side, looking over the balcony to see what he had been seeing. Looking out at the city again, he still saw the same things. He was sure, however, that the daughter of the Lord of Imladris saw her people far differently than he did. She then turned her head enough to look at him and asked politely, "How does Inconnu fare?"

"Better, now that I am healed."

A soft smile this time.

"It is a beautiful thing, having the love of one of the elves," she told the told him, "A gift not given lightly all the same, and your beloved now has another choice to make."

Er-Murazor's gaze snapped to the queen's, an uneasiness forming in what seemed to be his very soul.

"What choice would this be?"

"Inconnu Naeril is half-elven like my father and his brother were," Arwen explained with an air of calm, "My father chose the immortality of the elves, whereas his brother Elros chose the mortality of men. My own brothers and I also have that choice, though we have taken much time to decide. I made my choice when I fell in love with my beloved."

Er-Murazor stared at her, but soon realized it and said almost breathlessly, "You choose mortality, became mortal for Isildur's Heir."

She nodded, "And I will never regret my choice. I will spend the rest of my days with the man I love and help him bring the peace that shall be his legacy."

Er-Murazor fell into silence, thinking over what Arwen had revealed to him. He had not realized that Inconnu has also lived a long life so far, not nearly as long as himself, but long indeed. A life as the Wanderer of the Misty Mountains... a life that was calling her back. As those thoughts seemed to be leaning towards despair, Arwen continued.

"I am surprised that she has been able to delay this choice. I have only ever known my brothers and I to possess this leniency, but," She then gave him a knowing look, "Perhaps she has not been required to make a decision until recently."

"Perhaps," he agreed, "But I do not wish to force her to make it, to beg her to stay. I have no desire to hurt her."

"Has she not agreed to remain with you?"

"Yes." Er-Murazor was unable to lie about such a thing, "We shared promises I will hold dearly until death greets me at last."

Arwen was quiet for a moment, thinking as she inspected the former wraith before her. Then she asked him with the lining of wisdom that all elves seemed to possess, "And what do you see in your future, Er-Murazor of Numenor? What is it that you want after ages of shadow and hate?"

"I see her. She is at my side, and I at hers, in a place of quiet and comfort. There is peace." He then got his own knowing light in his infinitely-dark eyes. "But you see more, do you not?"

She nods, "I see an old kingdom renewed, the darkness fading away in the light of the moon, and a powerful legacy that will last in the ages yet to come."

Er-Murazor looks away from the queen, and it takes him a moment to realize the direction he is looking in. North, and though he cannot see the place that is not only prominent in his thoughts but also his memories, he knows it is there still.

But it could change, become a home for himself and Inconnu...

A young boy, latching onto him as if he would disappear if he let go. He had thick white hair, cut short as not to cover his eyes when the boy finally looked up at him. They were a brown so dark they were almost black, and they conveyed a love so profound that the Witch-King was filled with something he never thought he could feel.

Undeniable joy.

... a place to raise their son.

He returns his gaze to Arwen and her knowing look is still there.

"There is a purpose for you yet in the world of light," she then said, "And I see you already know your path."

He gave her a single nod.

"Thank you."

The daughter of Elrond leaves his company with a parting smile, leaving Er-Murazor to look out at the world and see something different this time.

That world of quiet and comfort.