After the crowning of King Elessir, known to his comrades and Fellowship friends as simply Aragorn, peace and order came over Middle Earth as it never had experienced before. The Dark Lord Sauron had been defeated, the armies of Mordor vanquished completely, remaining orcs had fled, broken in body and in spirit. The land was filled with light and beauty, obliterating the dark shadow that Mordor had spread over much of that realm.

These stories would become legend, and legends become myth over eons. But there are some stories are remembered with great sadness only in memories, for to write them down would be an indelible reminder of the vileness and bitterness that they spread and the tragedies that resulted.

Eowyn and Faramir married soon after Aragorn became king and took as his bride the ethereal and achingly beautiful Elf, Arwen. Eomer went to become the King of Rohan and no one was sure whether he would ever find a queen to rule beside him. Eowyn and Faramir were frequent guests to the Golden Hall, once ruled by the brother and sister's uncle, the great and heroic King Theoden.

But Eowyn and Faramir spent a great deal of time at Minas Tirith, where is was whispered Aragorn would make Faramir a prince, and that he would rebuild and take over the old city of the dead, Minas Morgul, and turn it back into the beloved Tower of the Moon. So was the wish of many Numenorean men and other Gondorians.

Eowyn and her ladies in waiting, Faramir and his page, some of the hobbits, and Aragorn himself, a generous and humble king, were standing in the great courtyard of Minas Tirith in the very place where Grond had broken down the great doors and in flooded vicious trolls and orcs. It seemed so long ago, and yet, not really that far in the past. The joy that spread through Mina Tirith nearly put the bad memories and tragic times behind everyone.

This afternoon, there was a great bazaar where merchants and women and men sold fresh fruits, vegetables, crafts of all sorts, even a booth where wooden dolls of the Fellowship were created. Music, laughter, and dancing of a casual and informal sort filled the air with sounds of celebration. Eowyn and Faramir had never been happier. The great doors Grond had once battered down stood open for other townsfolk to enter. In this time of peace, Aragorn did not close the gates during the day.

Suddenly, two of the guards came rushing through the great open doors of Minas Tirith . Their faces were ruddy and their breath was coming quickly through lungs that seemed aflame. They looked worried, or terrified, or both.

Aragorn immediately asked them, " Guards, what is it? "

Protectively, Arwen put a hand on his shoulder, and Faramir did the same with Lady Eowyn.

The guards spoke in unison fearfully. " There is a woman here to see you, all of you. She is out there waiting. She says that she wishes to speak to Lady Eowyn. "

They all glanced at each other, puzzled.

" Well, " Aragorn said, " Show her in, make sure she is escorted by palace guards. Did she say what the nature of her business was?"

Aragorn might as well have screamed that across the Courtyard, because before the guards even had a chance to return to the gates to bring the mysterious visitor inside, she seemed to glide over the brick floors so quickly it was as if she had wings to guide her.

They all stared, especially Eowyn, whose name the visitor had requested.

This visitor was an extraordinarily beautiful woman. Her beauty was so powerfully erotic and mesmerizing that time came to a halt for the men and terrified women around them. She possessed a presence that radiated from her like a brilliant yet dangerous aura. She was tall, close to six feet tall, with straight, long flowing hair blacker than the skies of Mordor in the days gone by. Her eyes flashed fire, like sparks of a freshly-hammered and fired rapier. Her features were strong, with an Aquiline nose, large eyes rimmed with thick black lashes, and a lush but cruelly smirking mouth. Cheekbones sculptured as if from alabaster.

" You are Lady Eowyn." It was not a question but a statement. Faramir and Aragorn moved towards the bold visitor but with one single hand, she seemed to push the very air into currents, and they were frozen, unable to move. Stunned, Arwen and the other Fellowship members, as well as onlookers, were unable to comprehend this woman's sorcery.

" Who are you?" demanded Eowyn. " Why do you come here seeking me?"

The tall, haughty woman was dressed in black, which offset her alabaster skin and strong features.

" Why my dear Lady Eowyn, murderer of my father, I have come for my revenge."

Eowyn, never one to flinch from anything, stared back at this arrogant stranger. " Revenge for WHAT? Murder of your father? I have never killed a man on or out of the battlefield. There were only orcs, and Haradrim. "

" You are brave, my Lady. But you murdered my father nonetheless. He was no man."

She moved around the circle of the old friends and then said, menacingly, " I AM THE WITCH-KING OF ANGMAR'S DAUGHTER. AND I AM HERE TO DESTROY YOU, LADY EOWYN, AND LAY WASTE TO THE CITY OF MINAS TIRITH. "

She smiled, and to all of them, it was the most malevolent smile they had ever seen. Even the Mouth of Sauron's malicious and grotesque grin did not compare to this woman's ( or was she really a woman? ) positively vicious grin.

And what was that shocking statement she had just said?

....I AM THE WITCH-KING OF ANGMAR'S DAUGHTER...."

to be continued...

While others were either in thrall, fear, or simply under her powerful and frightening spell, as if Shelob's dreaded web had been spun over Minas Tirith and its inhabitants, only this time, a beautiful young woman wielded her magic. And its web was not made from silk, but by some dark and secret sorcery that her father must have taught her. Or that she inherited by birthright, the child of the most powerful of the Nine.

But her focus seemed to be on Eowyn rather than the stunned men who tried to move within her web of power. A pale green glow was cast over all those in Minas Tirith, from the servants to the soldiers to even Gandalf himself, powerless in the Morgul Lord's daughter's spell.

They were able to move but their movements were restricted as if under water. Eowyn turned to see Faramir with a wildly angry and panicked face, fiercely protective of his new found love, and now, horrified that he might lose her. He banged his fists against the spell's enclosure. And Aragorn and Legolas tried in vain to break the bond with their sword and bow and arrow. Eowyn's eyes took in everything.

The Morgul Lord's daughter was indeed a great beauty. Closer now to Eowyn's face, she had fierce anger in her blazing black eyes and her finely curved nose flared and seemed to breath fire. And she was certainly as every bit as awesome and fear-inspiring ( or so it appeared) as her late father was. The Morgul Lord... Slain on the battleground of Pelennor Fields by the two things that were not man...a hobbit, and a brave Shieldmaiden of Rohan.

Eowyn was a fast thinker. Right now her heart raced even faster than her thoughts. And though she wanted to scream, she was beyond screaming now, because the fate of Minas Tirith lay with her ability to negotiate, appease, and try to befriend the enraged but grieving daughter of the enemy. After all, Eowyn too, knew what it was like to weep over a man she loved and considered her father figure for many years....her dear Uncle Theoden.

She sensed the vulnerability behind the strong, proud features and the crackling, sizzling power of the sorceress who stood before her demanding to avenge her father. Perhaps the way to solve this, or at least spare some lives, was to get to know her, to understand her, to....find common ground for the both of them to set their grievances forth. Alas, Eowyn, both diplomatic and possessed of a woman's intuition as much as stalwart bravery on the battlefield, spoke to the child of her slain enemy.

" I am indeed Eowyn of Rohan, who did end your father's evil life upon the great battlefield. But not before he too, had taken the life of the one I also called my father figure. Do you not see that we have equally lost the lives of the men who protected us and raised us as their daughters? As girls who became brave women, both warrior and sorceress? Is there no room in your heart, as there is in mine, so embittered from all this death and war, to at least meet and agree to terms, to treat with one another, as this is not concerning any of the other people here? It is just you and I. I ask of you, I beg you for my love and my life, Daughter of the Greatest of the Nine, to speak with me in private, in one of the many rooms that are in the House of my King, Elessar, known as Aragorn, son of Arathorn, and descendent of Isildur and Elendil. " Eowyn bowed slightly, her head down, in deference to the much-taller and certainly much more deadly in her capacity to destroy.

For a fleeting instant, one that would have been missed by any other than the keenly observant Eowyn, a flash of pain shone brightly in the dark fathomless eyes of the vengeful woman. " You did not know my father as he was then, a great Numenorean lord who became a greater sorcerer with powers beyond anything one has ever seen. "

Eowyn reached out and gently put her hand on the woman's arm, clad in a long black sleeve adorned with embroidery of the Morgul Lord's symbol, the ghastly deformed face of death on an equally twisted moon. " Your name....you know my name, but I do not know yours, daughter of the greatest of the Nine."

There was a pause, and the tall, regal woman answered, " My name is Eleutheria."

For a moment Eowyn felt a searing blast of some unknown, great and terrible power coursing through her when she touched Eleutheria's arm. It was similiar to the forceful thrum that ran through her sword when she plunged it into the kneeling Witch King's face. By her blade and the blade of a hobbit named Meriadoc, the greatest of the Nine had been slain, rendered into nothing but screams, broken metal and dusty rot.

She removed her hand quickly and led the woman into the great halls of Minas Tirith, where a deeply troubled old steward had once sat. It would be up to Eowyn's negotiating and lifesaving skills that would determine whether the inhabitants of Minas Tirith, including their beloved King Aragorn, and her Faramir, would live or die. While she did not show it, Eowyn felt the weight on her and the fear like a thousand shadows.

"Let us sit and talk at the table where the steward Denethor II once sat." She gestured gracefully for the stately woman to sit. While it was obvious she was a sworn enemy, Eowyn could not help but admire the grace and the bearing of the Witch King's daughter. Who would have ever guessed that such a beauty sprang from such evil loins? But she keenly remembered that the nine rings of power had been given to those who were men before they became Ringwraiths and servants of Sauron. They had been great lords and kings of their day, Numenorean men who were easily seduced and corrupted by dreams of great wealth,power and immortality. Such was their fate, and their doom.

" You could kill me and all here would fall into certain death, " Eowyn began, " But I would like to at least understand my enemy. We know that it is said your father would not be slain by the hand of man. So it was, he was slain by myself, a woman, and a hobbit who bore the blade that was made long ago in the wars against Angmar.

" But Eleutheria, daughter of the Morgul Lord, your father became my enemy as he was all of the Free Men's enemy, because of the ring he had taken from Sauron long, long ago. I do not know the history of your father, I do not know his name or what he had accomplished before the ring did its terrible thing to him, and turned him from a great man into an immortal spirit full of pain and fury. You must help me to see the great man he once was. I should like to know. For little is known about the Nazgul, and if there is anything, before I go to my doom along with everyone else here in Minas Tirith, I ask that you at least explain to me...so that I may understand....who the Morgul Lord truly was."

Eowyn hoped to direct the woman's attention away from vengeance to an understanding between them. By focusing attention on the greatness of her father rather than his vileness, she hoped that Eleutheria would find a reason in her heart to spare them. Somehow.

Eleutheria's composure remained cool and controlled, and she was silent for some time being. She, unlike her father, was not a wraith, but human still, after all this time, an immortal woman kept forever young by some mysterious power of sorcery and the evil contained within. For only a curse could keep such beauty immortal forever. And perhaps to know and possess such flawless beauty was yet another form of sadness and despair.

" It is true that my father along with eight other great lords did not question the ring when it was given to them. I was not yet born at the time when the rings were given out, but I came into being shortly afterwards, and witnessed everything that the ring did for my father, and more importantly, what it did TO him. What it made him. What ....what unmade him...as a man...."

And Eleutheria began her story.

" It would be far too simplistic to say that my father, along with the eight other great lords, who took the rings of power, merely did so out of pure greed and the desire for more power. I remember as a child and a budding young woman , before the ring worked its way into my father's heart and soul, the people closest to him, including my own mother, telling me what a wonderful and spiritual being Annatar was. Do not see my father or the other men as weak, for he believed the ring would enable more benevolence than anything else.

You must know that Annatar came as a sort of angel of light, as the so-called Bearer of Gifts, and that what he said to my father before he gave the most powerful ring to him...was not that it would simply give him power and immortality....but the ability to truly bring people together, and to make life better for all his subjects. Not just for himself. And you may choose to believe this or not, but my father's first concern as a mortal was his subjects and his fiefdom.

"My father was the greatest of the nine lords, himself a Numenorean who had come to Middle Earth and build and established a great fiefdom in the Southern region. He was not a tyrant, but a good and just leader, wise and benevolent. Yes, it is true...He was a practioner of sorcery, a great magician who entertained me as a young girl with fantastical illusions.

I remember his library in the castle was filled with wonderful things, magical potions and powders, herbs and spellbooks, an alchemist's dream library. He spent many hours there alone at night, and made it clear that he was not to be disturbed, particularly after he was given the ring. No one really ever figured out what the nature of his studies and conjurings were. Not even myself, til many years later.

" My father's name was Lord Thlassien. He was not a king, despite what you may have been told. He became King of Angmar many lifetimes later, but when he first received the ring, his title was Lord Thlassien Mardenar, Great Lord of the Southern Lands of Middle Earth. The people known as the Easterlings lived in his domain. One of their leaders, a powerful man by the name of Kamul, was also given a ring. He was the only one whose name I clearly remember, for the other seven names and beings have faded in my memory.

"After Annatar left and the ring of power was on my father's right index finger, I was born when the dawn was rising and the stars began fading. There were no horns to announce my birth, for I was not a male heir, and more importantly, I was not the daughter of my father's wife, but of one of his servant girls from a nearby village.

My father's wife, the Lady Dulthecain, had died shortlyafter the enlightened Annatar's visit. She had no children. I often wonder if Dulthecain's death had been an omen of the dark things that would shadow the fiefdom and all of our lives in the future. So I was not born in the castle bedroom where my father slept alone that morning, but in the servants' quarters. Still, he came to my mother's bedside after my birth. Her name was Ilennia. It was no secret that she had been my father's lover and mistress for a long time. Could you blame him, a widower, when a fair-faced beautiful maiden doted on him as tenderly as any woman would?

" I was told that I reached up, almost instinctively, to touch what was then a golden and amber ring on my father's finger. I hadn't even opened my eyes yet, but something drew me to that ring, even then, as a newborn. He told about it when I was old enough to understand language and laughter, how I wouldn't let go of his finger, and the midwife practically had to pry my little fingers off. Even now I remember the power vibrating from that ring, the heat flowing from it, and a voice, a disembodied voice, calling out to me from a far away place. "

I was always deeply aware of everything and everyone around me as a child. It was something my father sensed early on. When he found the time he would bring me storybooks and with his wondrous magic conjure such fantastical images that I often imagined them to be real. Therefore, because of his great skill with sorcery he was often called the Sorcerer Lord. And much, much later, of course, he would crown himself the Witch-King of Angmar. Although the word witch seemed better suited to a woman, than a man of magic.

" I would say that the ring's evil was like a terrible poison slowly coursing its way through his blood. It worked very slowly at first, and so I was at least able to remember my father when he was full of life and laughter, and our world was bright and jeweled with sunlight and parties, before the obsession with power, control and conquest would forever change us.

The ring tainted everything he touched, even me. For when I opened my eyes and was able to see, the ring held me with its power, and I could see the gold slowly corroding through time. He never removed that ring, though I doubt it would ever come off by his will, or its own will. I thought I was hallucinating one night. My mother was asleep and I was but ten years old...I found myself wandering the dim corridors unnoticed and up to my father's alchemist library late at night.

There was a terrible choked sobbing in there, as if that person's very soul were on fire. It certainly didn't sound like him. But I stretched up as far as I could and peered through the keyhole to see how was making such a pained and heartwrenching noise.

"My father was a handsome man. He was proud, maybe even vain to a degree, and carried himself as a true lord would. He was tall, some inches over six feet, with long hair of gleaming silver and a luxurious beard and moustache to match. His features were strong and noble, and his eyes were as blue as the sea of Rhun. But when I peered through that keyhole, I saw something there that would haunt me until this very day.

" He was hunched over a large table crowded with his usual spellbooks, glass bottles and tubes, but there was blood all over the place. I almost banged on the door, but something in me hesitated. He was holding a knife, and it looked as if he was trying to cut off his index finger, the one with the ring. All his other rings he easily removed, but never the one that Annatar had given him. Now it looked as though to me he was trying to rid himself of this ring by cutting off his finger. I was mystified. Why did he not simply take it off? Surely it could be removable and not by such violent means.

" But then I saw something, yes....I was sure of it then as I am now...that ring was alive. Alive. Not JUST a mere ring of gold, silver and amber, but a living thing, the amber was an eye. The gold was slowly corroding to silver, like mercury...and the silver was like....sinew, or muscle, or a fiber of some kind...as he tried to hack at his finger, the ring...with all its power and might, was preventing him from harming that one finger. I tell you that I heard the ring speak or whisper dark, terrible things, and that the amber eye glowed like volcanic lava ablaze with ancient secrets and wicked memories.

It was speaking to him, speaking to my father. Thick tendrils and filaments of silver like veins and arteries flowed over his hand and up across his chest and his other arm, holding it immobile in a network of metallic sinew. Apparently he only managed in cutting his other fingers and his wrist in the attempt to cut off the one finger with that ring.

" A strange light penetrated the room and this voice, speaking in the black tongue of Mordor, calmly told my father that his fate was sealed to the ring he could never remove. That he would accomplish great and terrible things, that he would outlive other men, that his sorcery would be directed to accomplishing the goals of the Dark Lord of Mordor...Sauron, you see, who was the true face behind the false and deceitful Annatar.

From that night on my father would sleep no more, he would dream no more, and I would forever be entwined with that ring somehow because I was my father's daughter. I didn't know at the time, of course, for I was so young, that my own fate was already sealed, and my path in life already decided by Sauron himself."

Eleutheria paused and for a moment her proud bearing seemed to be humbled, and she placed her hands on the table. " So let me tell you now, Eowyn, sister of Eomer, and slayer of my father Thlassien. What you have heard about the Nazgul...the men who took the rings of power...what I am telling you is most likely what happened to all of them...according to their strength of good or evil. It is not true that my father was an evil man to begin with, nor was he filled with greed. Pride, perhaps, but can you fault a man who was deceived by the greatest of deceivers? "

Eowyn poured a goblet of water for the woman and said softly, " Whatever your father became, he was no longer this great lord you speak of. What I slew, Eleutheria, on that battlefield, was not a man, but someone condemned to living death and beyond any pity or redemption. There was nothing left of your father that was even remotely human. He spared no one and nothing in his attempt to get the one ring of power to Sauron. He was Sauron's slave as the other eight were, as all of those who followed the Dark Lord. Your father Lord Thlassien's name is not even remembered by anyone. The second most powerful Nazgul, Kamul, he is the only one who is remembered by a given name. And even then very little else is known about any of them. Your father may have been great at one time, but he could have been greater still, and remembered in lore, poems,stories and song, not in a dark and terrible way that he is now. He inspired fear and terror, not respect and admiration. "

" I see that you continue to see him as nothing more than this evil thing...but I ask you, even in darkness, his accomplishments were great. '

Eowyn sat down again across from the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman, whose features must have clearly resembled her father's own noble ones. Her tall aquiline nose spoke not of her servant mother, but of her powerful and headstrong father, who, despite his greatness and his intentions, had fallen prey to the wickedness of the ring he was given. And in her heart, Eowyn should have known better, but listening to Eleutheria's story of her father's suffering bought pity flowing through her.

What, the daughter of kings wondered, would she have done if her own father, Eomund , had been deceived, and fallen under the same terrible weight? She did not know. But anger flared in her heart again when she thought about the way the Witch King on his Fell Beast had grabbed her uncle Theoden and tossed him on his horse like garbage across the field. And she could not think of the Witch King as a Lord Thlassien, for he was not the same man who fathered Eleutheria eons and eons ago. Where he once wore princely robes of fine colored velvet and jeweled rings, he had donned spiked armor, black robes and sharply-pointed helm. And where he once might have ridden a great war horse, he rode a beast from Mordor that stank of rot and whose breath reeked with carrion as foul as unburied corpses.

Her uncle Theoden, dying beneath his steed. The Morgul Lord towering above him, ordering his unholy beast to 'feast on his flesh.' Eowyn saw herself moving into view, and slicing the beast's head off with two swift strokes of her sword.

" There is much more to tell about my father, Lady Eowyn." If there was anything, her rival was polite, her words well-chosen and educated. Thlassien had done his work as a father once, teaching his beautiful daughter manners and his magical powers.

" And I should like to hear it, " Eowyn said, surprising herself with a feeling of genuine curiosity about her former enemy in battle.

In Eleutheria's ancient and complex mind, fully human, and yet full of the knowledge and secrets that no mortal of Middle Earth should have, a strange thing began to happen. She had been filled with a fierce contempt and loathing towards the Free Peoples of Middle Earth, partly planted there by association with Mordor and Sauron through her father, and partly on her own observations of the weakness of men.

She didn't consider women in the equation of things because she knew so very few of them. Her own mother Ilennia had died when she was sixteen, of that black and mysterious plague that ran through her father's fiefdom when he was at the height of his mortal powers and the ring controlled his decisions, actions, and his entire being, in body, soul and mind.

It hadn't taken long for the power of Sauron to reach through the silver and amber and inhabit every cell in Thlassien's body. How she watched her father suffer greatly through the years, and especially so for herself when he began to transcend this world and move into the shadow world, taking her with him on those dark and lonely journeys into a place that no human could see, no human could touch, unless they possessed that One Ring. Frodo Baggins had been the one to see Thlassien, Kamul, and the three other Ringwraiths on Weathertop, in their wraith forms, gray and twisted spectres with their iron crowns upon white-haired heads.

What powers kept her youthful and alive as a human female she honestly did not know, other than a combination of the fact that her father's ring had somehow transferred its power of dark immortality from his blood to hers but did not condemn her to the shadow world entirely, nor did it rob her of her acute senses. And it was probably Thlassien's and powers of sorcery as well that managed to keep her alive through the ages, along with the incestual essence that he filled her with when he took her for himself.

She had been filled with a terrible, unending rage when she felt her father's death as she sat with her inner eye turned deep inself, sitting immobolized in the dank recesses of Minas Morgul. Some semblance of humanity must have clung to his withered, twisted heart, because he did not want her to accompany himself, the other Ringwraiths, or the Orcs into battle. She had raged and screamed and cursed, begged him to let her wage war on the Gondorians and the Roherrim. Lightning and thunder had flashed that night as father and daughter fought each other in protest.

She had long been able to commune with him in the shadow world by the magic they shared, and while she continually expressed her fierce desire that burned within her to do battle on Pelennor Fields, he was adamant that she stay behind in the Dead City. He had finally pinned her to the floor with painful blasts of fire sorcery, after she had tried to fight him with some of his own old tricks of illusion and deceit.

She felt the sting of the sword that the hobbit stabbed him with, breaking the spell that kept his sinews together at the knee, and she felt even more keenly the blade of Eowyn which had ended Thlassien's life....

But how could that be...how could it have all been over after thousands of years? His life, or what remained of it....gone so much like graveyard dust blowing over cold, cracked tombstones.

Did I almost catch myself saying or thinking that Eowyn, daughter of Eomund, had set my father FREE somehow ?

Ludicrous. He had been free the entire----time----a powerful and feared leader of the Ringwraiths, leader and lord of Minas Morgul, former King of Angmar....he had been free, hadn't he?

Hadn't he?

It was something that Eleutheria wrestled with in the long-ago past, when questions would seethe in her mind and fester there like a sore that refused to heal. But Sauron would come to her too when she placed her hand on her father's wrist, and touched the ring. Sauron's dark speech, rich and deeply melifluous voice would then become a soothing balm on her fevered brain. If she questioned her father about his condition, his ever-growing focus on the ring he wore and its true master, whatever part of him that tried to dissuade her from the dark powers was silenced quickly and painfully...by convulsions and seizures that terrified his servants and his lovely young daughter.

She wondered if Thlassien ever felt that way. When he had been of flesh and blood, and at the height of his power over his lands, and the ring shone brilliantly in the candle and firelight of their old fortress, she always felt as though there were two men inside him.

She could actually see the physical workings of Sauron's power moving in his muscles and his brain, through his veins and his nerves, as a young girl, and later on, an experienced sorceress and conjurer herself. Eventually when he lost his physical form and appeared in the shadow realm as a wraith, sometime she estimated to be around 2251, of the Second Age, he certainly was no longer a human mortal, and so whatever physical substance he had bodily-wise had been laid to waste long before that date.

But now after the War of the Ring, the Dark Lord Sauron was dead, her own powerful father slain, Mordor destroyed, Minas Morgul bathed in brighter light, and while her anger burned brightly inside her, there were seeds of doubt beginning to bloom.

Placed there either intentionally, or unintentionally, by the very hand that slew the Witchking.

" So you would say then that your father, Lord Thlassien, was not driven by greed, but that he was a.... victim of Sauron? It seems as though you yourself are struggling to come to terms with him, not only as your father, but as your mentor and guide. He taught you many things, did he not? And yet he did not want you to go into battle? You were not there besides him, my lady Eleutheria. Perhaps there remained some humanity to him after all." Eowyn watched her rival's face carefully.

She found it hard to believe that the great lord who had willingly accepted the ring, no matter how convincing Sauron had been as Annatar, was not aware that there would be some kind of price to pay. Especially upon hearing that he was a man of great intelligence and capability.

" I would say that....that the ring had a will of its own. The will did not belong to my father, Lady Eowyn. Let me tell you why I know this."

" But surely you and Lord Thlassien enjoyed the benefits that came with conquest and victory. You cannot deny that, " Eowyn pointed out.

And Eleutheria imagined herself back in the dark, dank recesses of Minas Morgul, the former Minas Ithil, known as the Tower of the Moon in the old days. Her father had taken over that fortress in the year 2000 of this Third Age, along with the eight other Nazgul. They had renamed it Minas Morgul, or the Tower of Sorcery. There, the palantir that was known as the Ithil-stone was turned over to Sauron at Barad Dur. And Thlassien was known from then on as the Morgul Lord, former Witch King of Angmar.

So many years of power and conquest, and Eleutheria would have been lying to herself if she did not think that it bought her glory as well. How the orcs preened and bowed for her and her father, and the eight other former lords. How men cowered in fear when her father lay waste with his minions on great battlefields, truly visions of hell in the aftermath when thousands lay dead and the Fell Beasts would prey on the human carrion as would the Crebain, the spy-crows of Saruman the White.

She had hidden away in the deep layers of her hardened heart her fears and uncertainties about what her father had become. He had suffered greatly, she knew this, she had born witness to it. How much of what he had accomplished....whose accomplishment was it, really? If the Mouth of Sauron, a nobleman who was a descendant of men known as Black Numenoreans, merely became a speaking tool for the Dark Lord, then was her father and the eight other Nazgul merely his eyes and ears? Or did she dare go as far to say that they were Sauron's slaves?

She could not allow herself to think these things for long when Sauron was alive. The punishment for rebelling against him in any way, in thought or deed, was swift and severe. In the decades and eons after Thlassien had received the ring, when he won victory after victory on battlefields to expand his fiefdom and conquer many other peoples of Middle Earth, she knew of one time when her father had secretly harbored doubts about the way he was instructed through the ring to torture his prisoners of war. He traded in his mortal flesh for the suppsoed glory of eternal life.

And yet life itself had become unbearable for him, and for her.

He had been, in his time, before the ring, a humane man, someone who believed in the merciful treatment of all people. A large group of captured men awaited their fate in the fortress dungeons. When one of the council asked Thlassien what should be done with them, the great lord had hesitated but one instant.

She was with him and his large war council ( he always insisted she be there to learn the art of war, at the distress and the objection of the other men) when he was suddenly thrown to the ground by a force unknown to everyone but himself and her.

She had been powerless to stop the torment that raged through him. Rooted to the spot, her feet turned to lead, and though she tried to move, movement was refused to her. It was as if she was frozen there in time while her father screamed, and his screams gave way to drilling shrieks of agonizing pain, though no one could see from what. Veins dilated and pulsed over his forehead, his eyes rolled back in their sockets, lids fluttering. He was thrown back against the stone wall of the council room with such force that he was knocked unconscious. His crown had fallen to the ground with a metallic clatter that reminded her of old bones.

The men of the council stood, unable to comprehend the violence of that episode. Then they had rushed forward to help him and finally Eleutheria was able to move her feet, she had been by her father's side immediately, tears pouring down her face. When she leaned forward and kissed his forehead, her lips burned as if touched by acid. She saw the amber eye on the ring glaring, it's pupil contracting and dilating. The gold tones of the ring almost gone, corroded now to a dark silver, that seemed to expand and contract as well.

" Get him up to his chambers, " she snapped to the men, and called for the guards to stand watch at his door. " I will be beside him tonight, and we are not to be disturbed, not even by the herbalist."

Eowyn was filled with a paradox of conflicting feelings. She watched Eleutheria's lower lip tremble with emotion as she described how Lord Thlassien had been tormented by the ring of power he had been given, how the ring was literally a living thing, an instrument made to control his thoughts and deeds. Here were two strong, beautiful and powerful women, who should be bitter rivals til the end of time, and yet, each of them found their emotional foundations shaken by their roots.

Daring to reach out now, Eowyn gently placed her hand on Eleutheria's arm. There again, that same thrum of powerful sorcery that ran through the woman's veins, inherited from her father and honed further by the dark powers, but not as strong, not as hateful, not as vengeful. Could it be possible that there was a sort of odd understanding beginning to form between them?

Eowyn let her continue, without interruption. And Eleutheria did not shake off Eowyn's gesture of warmth.

" All night long, in that chamber, along with my father, he raged incoherently, his words mixed with the black speech of Mordor. His facial flesh stretching and changing into something not him, his handsome features becoming grotesque and distorted..like they were, when he became part of the shadow world. His body twitched and heaved, he vomited blood and wretched until he no longer had the strength to do so and it was worse to see him there, sweating with evil fever. His eyes, bloodred and almost insane with grief and pain....rolling back in their sockets....you cannot imagine what I went through....what he went through.

" At times he did not even recognize ME, his own flesh and blood. His powers of sorcery were growing greater, but he was unable to fight the most evil and powerful force that had taken over him. He was still fighting to be human, to be humane, do you not see that? He tried to fight, Lady Eowyn, but he lost the battle...can you say that YOUR Faramir, or your Theoden, or your Aragorn, would have been able to shake off and defeat the power and might that was the Dark Lord's?

" The ring created through the next several years a man who was vainglorious, proud, extremely adepy and proficient with magic, and who gained so much more wealth, booty from the conquered peoples and lands that he added further to solidify his fiefdom, which he began in truth to call his kingdom. His war council feared him, I feared him, though he doted on me as he always did. He always managed to convince me that I was his special little girl, his heiress. I had lived all my life in the shadow of the other court members and learned to ignore the whispers behind my back that I was his bastard child, not in any way a true heiress to his throne, and especially because I was not born a male.

" I sought refuge with my father when other people spoke harshly either to me, or behind my back. Especially when I began to grow into womanhood. It was then that the men of the fortress, my father's soldiers and guards, began to torment me when he was off on his war campaigns.

"When I came to him one night in tears about this, he told me that I would always be his little Eleutheria, but that one day, I would be a great sorceress, and I would have whatever I wanted, and together, my father and I would rule worlds within worlds. He would take me in his arms and tell me this, whisper these words of comfort that stayed with me during the times I was just beginning to recognize my own beauty and my own powers that I had to one day learn to wield.

One day, he said to me, we would conquer kingdoms meant to be ours, and with the help of the one Great Dark Lord, we would conquer the world. That sounded reassuring to a girl who had grown up in the shadow of the fortress, being told by others that I was a worthless nobody, the unwanted child of a poor servant girl. The fortress slut whom guards desired but no man of noble blood could marry by virtue of who I was.

"But as my confidence in myself grew, so did my own ego and my desire to help my father conquer and lay waste to rivals. Several things happened that have become a blur to me now, a dark, evil plague that swept through the fortress, eradicating everyone who either disapproved of my father's newfound lust for power and greater wealth, and that included my mother Ilennia. I became arrogant. Together my father and I were inseperable. His physical changes became very apparent to others, including myself.

" He became gaunt, for he no longer ate, or perhaps, he no longer needed to, as the ring was feeding him the nourishment of dreams of wealth and power beyond anything he ever imagined. He was still handsome, still a target for many of the court ladies who had been long bewitched with him.

" You see, Lady Eowyn, the ring had that affect on him. While it dulled his appetites for food and his former pleasures of writing and poetry, it made his base desires rage...his sexual appetite became insatiable. He took lover after lover, but it was not love, just a body for him to release himself into. But there was only one that he loved...there was only one he loved and wanted for himself, and no other man."

There Eleutheria stopped, and a look of horror must have crossed Eowyn's face, but she kept her hand firmly on the sorceress's arm for support.

" You see, I always believed, though I never wanted to admit it, that one of the true reasons for my immortality, was that somehow...somehow through my father's own seed, his own immortality passed into my blood that way, made it's way into me....so....he did not want any other man to lay his hands on me. He wanted me for himself, Lady Eowyn. Even when he became a wraith, like some kind of demonic oracle, he wanted me...for himself."

Now it was Eowyn's turn to speak. What a strange thing was occurring here, and it was complex, confusing, and wondrous all at the same time. She felt genuine sympathy flowing through her despite the events that occurred on Pelennor Fields. As women, shortly after that battle, they were bereft of a father and a father-like figure. Alone in the world of men. Because of the selfish actions and desires of one Dark Lord, good had battled evil forces.

Eowyn could not simply dismiss the dark forces as just orcs, trolls and an evil wizard, but there were many men who also answered Mordor's call...Haradrim, the Corsairs, the Easterlings. What had her brother Eomer told her, when she crossed words with him concerning Merry fighting in battle? That "war was no place for women or hobbits." Was it simply coded somewhere on a man's essence that he would or should wage war, trade violence for violence rather than find peaceful means? For men had been at war for reasons other than Sauron wanting to take over the entirety of Middle Earth.

" My Lady Eleutheria, " Eowyn said softly, her words carefully chosen, " We are both women in a world that is primarily run by men. But we can change that, don't you see? Instead of fighting me, why can't we join forces, forgive the things of the past, for they were already determined by fate. You have lost your father. I have lost the one who was a father to me. There is nothing to be gained if you destroy Minas Tirith and its inhabitants. It will not bring back your father,Thlassien. It will be an empty victory, if it can even be called a victory. What IS victory, if there is no one left to share it with? Your actions would not be heroic. You will still be alone."

Something fell from Eleutheria's eye, and at first Eowyn thought it was a teardrop, but when it landed on the cold table, it made a tinkling sound. She saw that it was glass, or crystal.

Eleutheria laughed without humor. " A sleight of hand, magic, my dear. My father used to turn my tears into diamonds. I learned it from him. Now that I sit here across from you, I can't help but wonder if you did my father and myself a favor...you and that hobbit. You---if you had any idea just how he suffered because of the ring. Wait...before you come to judge me...it is true that Annatar promised my father and the rest of the men who would be the Nazgul, that the ring would grant to them eternal life and endless power. But my father was already a powerful man. He did not seek to enhance that power, rather, to use the ring as a guide, or so he hoped, to retain his fiefdom's favor. "

"But did he find happiness? Did he become a true hero? I think you may be right, Eleutheria, in that the ring enslaved him to Sauron's will. But he took that chance. If the promise of eternity was something he even considered as a man, then he should have known that there is no such thing without a price to be paid. You say he was a brilliant man, and yet, he failed to see that eternal life is a doomed life when you are meant to be a mortal."

Suddenly Eowyn felt a grip around her throat that was like the coils of a serpent. Outside, she heard some screaming and the sound of some soldiers falling down on the ground in agony. She tried to put her hands to her throat in the vain attempt to release the terrifying force gripping her. Eleutheria's dark eyes narrowed and her brow knitted. " I have no patience for thy judgement, Lady Eowyn, for it is not your place to say where my father failed. He accomplished much despite the pain he suffered."

Back and forth it went, this feminine power play of heartfelt emotions, at odds with each other, and within themselves...

Slowly releasing her evil magic's stronghold, Eleutheria remembered why she became enamoured of the dark side, as her father had.

Eleutheria found herself closing her eyes and returning to another place in time, when her father had already gone far into the shadow world. After his flesh and blood could not sustain life as a mortal would know it, and life became unbearable in the sense that he lived in that tenuous limbo called....living death. And yet she felt his presence keenly as she always did, though they spoke only through their minds' consciousness. As the evil of the ring completely overpowered whatever will he had left to fight it, he had given himself to the dark side, and in turn, she had also turned herself against Free Men and hated them with as much passion as she could. In Mordor were bred the Nazgul's evil steed, great black war horses that frightened men and all other living things.

How many years had passed since she could even remember her father as Thlassien? He was only known by things other than men's names..The Witch King of Angmar, the Morgul Lord, the Greatest of the Nine. If she uttered his original name in the distant past he flew into convulsive rages as if he could not bear to remember his mortal days. But the power! Ah, the feel of the power of darkness...like a drug that was both so sweet and yet so incredibly bitter. It tasted so good going down, and yet it left a metallic aftertaste like burned copper in one's system.

War had raged for eons, Eleutheria could not remember a time, other than when the Nazgul had vanished into the shadowrealm, after the Last Alliance of men and elves under Elendil and Gil Galad had defeated Sauron in 3441 of the Second Age. Sauron had lost his physical form. To protect themselves and to rest for his future return, which they all felt was imminent, the Nazgul and their leader remained in the world where no living thing could see or touch them. Eleutheria had been taken into that world by her father's sorcery, but it was one of the darkest times of her long life. The agony of defeat had shown the forces of darkness that men were not as stupid or weak as once perceived.

As Sauron's power began to gather itself again in tangible form around 1050 of the Third Age and he founded a realm of his own in the Mirkwood Forest at Dol Guldur, hope at last was rekindled in her father and his minions. I

In that time he had not let her leave the shadow world because of his fear that a mortal might fall in love with her, and that love would lead to her destruction. She had not wanted to leave her father's side in either world anyways. Because he had given her a Taste of the Dark Power. Because his love for her was complete, as he told her long ago, no man deserved such a daughter so great except for the one who bought her into the world. And even in the shadow world, his ghostly caresses held her to him as no other power could.

How bizarre that was.

Now Thlassien emerged at last from the shadows, filled with vengeance and anger and hatred, so powerful that when he made his presence known, living things shrunk from him, men and animals and creatures of all sorts. He instilled the dread of shadow and darkness and hopelessness deep in the hearts of men. She rode with him when he battled the forces of the divided North kingdoms of Arthedain, Rhudair, and Cardolan, along with his vast forces of orcs, evil men, and powerful creatures conjured by black magic. How the cold winds had whipped her hair like a dark battleflag, and how the men's screams of pain and death were music to her ears.

There was the stronghold her father established she called home...the kingdom of Angmar, with the fortress on the northernmost peak of Carn Dum. Thlassien's subjects would have killed themselves if had so ordered them to do so.

Was that not real power then? Eleutheria felt their fear as keenly as she felt her own hatred and bile-bitter contempt for the world of Free Peoples. They trembled as they bowed to him, to her, and to the eight Nazgul who also occupied the stronghold. She could command them to do her bidding at any time.

Rhudaur was the first kingdom to fall beneath her father's minions. Cardolan was soon ravaged and overrun. The King of Arthedain had been slain. The forces of her father occupied the lands. Dark sorcery abounded. She helped him to conjure the evil spirits from Angmar and Rhudaur, known as the Barrow-wights. It had been a time of incredible power and conquest. So much blood was shed.

Eleutheria paused and released her grip on Eowyn and the subjects she had put to death outside in the courtyard, the soldiers who had screamed their last screams.

"Have you heard enough to see the things my father accomplished when he was King of Angmar?"

Eowyn touched her throat. It felt bruised and sore. What power that woman had certainly hadn't waned with Sauron's passing, Mordor's destruction, and the Witch-King's death. She would choose her words more carefully, find another weak spot or a soft spot in that emotional armor that Eleutheria wore like a cloak. She already felt the pain of the soldiers whose lives had just ended because this woman was driven to prove her point about 'power.'

By instinct, a woman's instinct perhaps, Eowyn knew that Eleutheria was more vulnerable than she perceived herself to be. But she was highly defensive and volatile. It was a deadly combination. For a brief moment ago, crystal tears had hit the table. One moment later, she was enraged and her murdering magic worked its power.

Like walking on the skulls of the dead, thought Eowyn bitterly. I feel like I am walking on the skulls of the dead. Her thought was based on a story that Gimli and Legolas had told her about the King of the Dead's lair.

It was clear that Eleutheria was so used to being the center of her father's world ( along with his ring) that she was used to directing the conversation. This was most likely the first time she had ever had spoken as much in length, let alone spoken with another mortal woman. In that guess, Eowyn was correct.
Now she had to be ever skillful with her own choice of words, and try to project as much attention on her rival's ego in order to find her true weakness and vulnerability.

Eowyn knew that Eleutheria's feelings for her father Thlassien were deeply torn, and extremely conflicted. She went back and forth between admiration for a poweful warlord of Angmar and a tormented victim of the ring.

Here was another Daughter of Kings, but not a Shieldmaiden of the Southern Lands as she was supposed to be. Eleutheria was enslaved by her own father, who himself was a slave to Sauron. The genuine affection and love Thlassien had once felt for his lovely daughter was corrupted into something evil and twisted, as such was the dark nature of incest. He did not fear losing her to another 'man' as much as he feared being unable to use her for his own benefit. And yet no one had been aware of her. She was not once mentioned in the histories of Middle Earth. Nothing was truly known about any of the Nazgul and Eowyn was the only recipient of the Witch-king's true name and background.

"Minas Morgul," Eowyn said. " Lord Thlassien took over Minas Morgul. Can you tell me more about that, Lady Eleutheria?"

It had been a time of some confusion and humiliation, the events which came before the conquer of Minas Ithil, later known as Minas Morgul. In the year 1975, Gondorian forces led by Earnur had arrived to Fornost, where Thlassien had proclaimed himself King of Angmar and took the throne. Eleutheria sat beside him as his consort and second in command of all his affairs. There were many of the evil minions who resided in Angmar that did not know she was his daughter, for her position next to him suggested that she was his wife, or possibly his sister.

She in truth then was higher in rank than Kamul, the former Easterling lord who was given the second of the nine rings. He had given her no sign that he resented her seat besides the Witch King.

When Earnur arrived, he came not only with Gondorian soldiers, but also horsemen from the Vales of Anduin and the princes of Rhovanion. Cirdan and Glorfindel of the elves of Lindon and Rivendell also joined forces with Earnur. It was a formidable force that Thlassien faced, even with his powerful army.

Eleutheria remembered a great, bloody and terrible battle on the fields between the North Downs and Lake Evendim. On her black steed she was as fearless and formidable on the battlefield as any Ringwraith, with her screeching battle cry full of bloodlust and powers of sorcery, she instilled black fear deep in men and elves alike. Once, she had removed her helm, and her face, pale and beautiful, illuminated by flashes of lightning meant to disorient her enemy, hundreds had been thunderstruck when they saw her. She used her great beauty to that advantage.

The men and elves who faced her directly on the battlefield were doomed. In the one instant they were enraptured by her beauty, and stunned by the very fact that she was a woman, she slew them mercilessly and with such savagery that it earned her rightful place as second in command on the battlefields and her father's stronghold.

But the forces of Angmar were defeated. They were simply overrun by the sheer number of men and elves, and Eleutheria was furious at the disorganization of some of the orc companies. So furious that she had personally dispatched some of them with her evil magic and made them die in agony right there before her.

Thlassien tried to retreat to Carn Dum, but Earnur and his cavalry pursued him. Thlassien had ordered Eleutheria to go forth ahead of him and take the remaining orcs and evil forces with her. She turned her powerful vision inwards and saw in her mind's eye that her father had ridden out to face Earnur, for he was truly enraged. Bright bolts of green and blue lightning flashed from the sky to emphasize this rage.

Earnur's horse, upon seeing this, and the evil presence Thlassien held sway over the fields, turned and bolted in terror. Eleutheria's father shrieked with laughter. Earnur did not pursue him upon the advice of the elf Glorfindel.

Thlassien then rode back to meet Eleutheria, who waited for him with their remaining forces. The realm of Angmar was ended, and the men and orcs who followed them were either killed or driven from Eriador. Eleutheria and her father disappeared once again into the shadows. Here she was witness to his defeat, his agony, and she vowed with all the blackness within her that she would avenge him.

A few years later, in 1980, Thlassien gathered the other Nazgul to him and he and his daughter began preparing for the long-awaited arrival of their master Sauron.

Then in the year 2000, they successfully beseiged and overran Minas Ithil, the former Tower of the Moon in Gondor, and renamed it Minas Morgul, the Tower of Sorcery.

Eleutheria never forgot her own humiliation and rage she endured as a result of the loss of her father's kingdom and throne in Angmar, and she laid terrible waste to many of the men inhabiting Minas Ithil. Thlassien and the other Nazgul created vast dungeons where Eleutheria oversaw the tortures and deaths of many men, including her father's hateful old nemesis, Earnur, who was became the last King of Gondor before Aragorn. Earnur's subsequent demise would leave Gondor in the hands of the rule of the stewards.

" No one knew what happened to King Earnur, the last king of Gondor, " Eowyn remarked, both entranced and reviled by Eleutheria's recounting of the Witchking's days at Angmar and the subsequent battle that defeated him there. Her rival here was truly a formidable woman, and something in Eowyn deeply identified with that, a warrior-woman, though they were on opposing sides. But it had been obvious that Lord Thlassien held his daughter in high regard. It was unclear to Eowyn whether he would have allowed her in his war council if it wasn't for the ring of power he wore. She was positive that Sauron must have convinced him that Eleutheria would prove as useful a servant as himself, and the other Ringwraiths.

And yet, Eowyn envied Eleutheria for her position of power and expertise on the subject of war. Though she had been schooled by the horsemen warriors of Rohan, taught to ride and to use a sword, she was not encouraged to fight in battle, only to hold a symbolic role of power as Shieldmaiden of Rohan. Eleutheria on the other hand, was actively encouraged to participate in important and decisive battles. She sat beside her father as an equal, despite the terrible price she had to pay for that.

Eowyn saw a youthful, powerful and beautiful young woman sitting beside her dark lord father, wearing robes of black and gray, gleaming sable. Sitting at a war council with the other Nazgul and orc commanders, looking at maps and deciding things that Eowyn was never allowed to do in Rohan.

But it was as Eleutheria said, many of the Witch King's minions did not know she was his daughter, because of her role sitting in the throne as a Queen-like figure. And perhaps, in his own twisted, warped way, Thlassien was fulfilling his desire for a woman who was serving him as both a wife and a dutiful daughter, a feminine consort and a fearsome presence on the battlefield. The two were inexplicably entwined together. As inseperable as the ring from its master's index finger.

Eleutheria threw her off with a blunt statement. "I see and feel your thoughts, Daughter of Eomund. If you want to envy me, you can do that with all the freedom in the world. I served my father not by choice but by circumstance. You, at least, may not have been encouraged to use your position as Shieldmaiden of Rohan, but you were not expected to be as I was, a definitive commander in the field. That was no easy task."

Eowyn was struck speechless for a moment by that observation. And here again, there was the odd meeting of the mind and heart of two very different women. But women, nonetheless. It would be to her advantage to play that out as best she could. And that would have been no act, for Eleutheria was too clever and possessed too much sorcery of a mind-reading sort to be fooled by anything other than genuine thoughts and deeds.

" It was said that your father challenged Earnur. "

" Yes, in 2043. Mardil was Earnur's steward at the time, and discouraged him from riding out to meet my father. But seven years later in 2050, my father yet again renewed that challenge. He mocked Earnur's cowardice at Fornost and it must have played upon the ego. As you know how men are.This time, Earnur rode out to meet my father with a small band of knights , and my father told them that they would battle hand to hand in the courtyard of Minas Morgul."

And King Earnur of Gondor never returned. Thus he was the last king of Gondor, and in his place, Mardil became the first ruling Steward, for Earnur had no living heirs.

" I personally saw to the dispatch of that man, " Eleutheria said at last, and there was a smile on her face that chilled Eowyn, making her wonder if there wasn't already some part of the woman to begin with, before the ring worked its way deep into her as well as her father, that made her such a wicked sadist.

Minas Morgul's dungeons were vast and terrible, and Eleutheria was appointed by her father as the overseer of that black hole of hell. And hell it truly was...the orcs created metal torture instruments that were capable of inducing such pain and suffering, one could feel it thickly in the air. Eleutheria put the orcs to good use there, personally designing and implementing these torture instruments herself.

When she walked through the hallways of despair she felt elated to be bringing such pain to her hated enemies. It was never recorded anywhere, but the many men of the former Minas Ithil were kept alive for years and years for Eleutheria to torment. And there was one man she desired to inflict great pain upon...the man who drove her father from Fornost, and thus cutting short his rule of Angmar.

His dozen knights screamed day and night in agony, and if she hadn't known better, it might have even bought some pity from her hardened heart. They soon gave way to drilling shrieks of such proportions that the orcs had to wear lead plugs in their ears.

Minas Morgul also had another human visitor who was fast on his way to becoming the Lieutenant of Barad Dur, a man of noble lineage descended from Black Numenoreans, those from Numenor who came to Middle Earth and who had paid homage to Sauron and his dark ways. Also highly skilled in sorcery and the arts of darkness, his name escaped Eleutheria, whose secret affair with him she concealed from her father with her own magic spells and veils of deceit. He had thrilled her to no end with his sadomasochistic abilities. His name did not matter, for he himself did not remember. As the messenger and personal emissary of the Dark Lord, he did not need a name.

He came in those days not only to deliver word from Sauron, but to also learn from her father more of the black arts and its many applications. Later, as he rose to the rank of Lieutenant of Barad Dur, he was remained primarily in the tower itself, doing his master's bidding.

Eleutheria kept Earnur alive the longest, subjecting him to things no mortal should have survived. She decided she would spare Eowyn, daughter of Eomund, the horrifying details of his slow and prolonged agony.

Eleutheria stood up suddenly and startled Eowyn. " Come, daughter of kings, and look outside with me, see and witness the spell that is cast upon the people of Minas Tirith. Can you not even admit to yourself that the powers of darkness are not to be trifled with, and though the Dark Lord has been vanquished...that darkness can still triumph over all ?"

" I do not and have not doubted that, " Eowyn stated, and it was true. The War of the Ring had been a war that was fought on, as Gandalf stated, very little hope, perhaps only a 'fool's hope.' But she also believed one sliver of hope was enough to shatter the kingdom of darkness forever. Sam had told everyone about how he and Frodo had been in Mordor, losing hope, falling down exhausted and weary, but how he had seen a few stars peeking through the dark, sulfurous clouds. Those few stars had been enough for him to drag Frodo up and continue on with their perilous journey towards Mount Doom. The hope and the strength of two small hobbits had been what defeated Sauron and shattered the tower of Barad Dur.

Eowyn wasn't sure just how much hope she had right now, because this daughter of another long-ago king was full of fire and fury, as was her magic. But the humanity in her was still there, her torn conscience was a conscience nonethless.That was Eowyn's hope...that it was not yet too late for the Witch King's daughter to embrace her own remaining humanity. Eowyn still did not know why Thlassien had forbade her to accompany him on her own Fell Beast at Pelennor Fields. Her first theory was that the Morgul Lord wanted just this to happen, for his daughter to survive and succeed him in spreading darkness, or that he wanted to possibly spare her for a future of better things.

And Eowyn was now also genuinely curious about the ring's true powers, about what exactly the ring did to Thlassien. Perhaps she could not lay as much blame on the men who took the rings as she originally thought.

" Lady Eleutheria, if I cannot persuade you to release your spell over the people here, perhaps I can at least ask you to continue telling me about Lord Thlassien. I should especially like to hear more about your life with him as a young girl, and how he came to be the Lord of the Nazgul. "

Eowyn peered through the window and watched the greenish cast of the spell that held everyone trapped within in its translucent, deadly glow. Several dozen dead Gondorian soldiers lay with their eyes wide open, necks twisted at hideous angles. " I do not doubt, and have never doubted, the great powers that evil and darkness can, and does command. But I often wonder how it is you want your father to be remembered. As a great lord before he received the ring, or the King of Angmar to whom the ring bewitched. Your father is known as many names. I wondered which one you hold the dearest to you. If you would allow us, perhaps we can go to the very place where he passed into another world. "

" What become of his helm and his robes, his sword and armor?" Eleutheria turned from the window and walked back to Denethor's table slowly, her head down.

That Eowyn did not know the answer to. She said, " It could still be out there on Pelennor Fields, for the battle was great, and we are all still in the process of burial and cleansing."

" How should I want my father to be remembered? As a great Numenorean lord, a great and powerful sorcerer, the Lord of Minas Morgul....all the things he is known for. "

" I should like to hear more about Lord Thlassien and the ring...and about your childhood," Eowyn said softly.

Eleutheria opened her hand and whispered darkly ancient words that sent a chill up Eowyn's spine. Her eyes were closed and behind the lids Eowyn saw fine veins and vessels trembling with the power of the spell. There was a warm static of sorts in the air, and the hair rose on Eowyn's neck.

" Come with me, Lady Eowyn, and I will show you a world, right here in front of you, the world that belonged to Lord Thlassien Mardenor and myself...step back in time to a place that no longer is...." And suddenly, before them both in the Gondorian hall, was another realm opening up, another great hall hung with huge tapestries and filled with rich, decorous furnishings. A great many people were dressed in fine, elegant clothes and the air held laughter and conversations in a flowery, ancient language Eowyn did not recognize. She was struck mute by the beauty and glory of the fortress interior. The vision became clearer, sharper, as it came into full focus.

A tall, powerfully built regal man who wore a rich black velvet robe over flowing muslim garments carried a small child in his arms and was fawning over her. Behind him, a slender girl, much younger than the man, followed him smiling and shy. She had a face as clear and beautiful as a warm sunset. Her hair was the color of a raven's wing and pulled back modestly under a simple cotton head piece. By her dress, she was not a member of the court or the council. And she drew some stares of contempt from other well-garbed women. Indeed, she was servant girl , though no ordinary one. One who had captured the heart of a nobleman.

Ilennia, thought Eowyn, that must be Ilennia. And the imperial-looking man, whose silver hair and beard reflected the light of the fire and the candles, was Lord Thlassien. The child in his arms, fair and dark-haired, who cooed and kept trying to reach up to the ring on his finger, was Eleutheria. The ring flashed momentarily, a ray of brilliance cascading over the face of the man, and he looked up directly at Eowyn, smiling, as though he could see her. His mouth moved and he spoke softly, looking into the face of the little girl.

Eowyn put her hand to her mouth, stunned and awed by the magic that allowed her to see into the world Eleutheria grew up in. A tear fell from her eyes when she thought about how happy that time must have been, before the darkness and the deceit, the treachery and the slippery descent into the shadow world took over everything.

Daughter, Thlassien had whispered to Eleutheria, together, we will rule worlds within worlds....worlds within worlds...worlds within worlds...

The words echoed through the hallways of Minas Tirith.

They had no idea, or could not know, at the time, that those worlds would be the darkest ones they ever knew.

Eowyn closed her eyes, and fell into the world that once belonged to a great lord.

" Look into my world, " Eleutheria whispered to Eowyn, " And know, see, feel, hear everything that surrounded my father and I...." She moved close to Eowyn's side and put her hand on her shoulder.

" Do not be afraid, Lady Eowyn. I will show you everything...you will see what our lives were like...and how they came to change...through the ages, the nameless ages.You wanted to know, and you shall know. And you will see for yourself...that my father was NOT the greedy man that your King Elessar or others who claim to know what the Nazgul were, as men, before their demise. I tell you now...my father had no choice once that ring was upon his finger..."

And Eowyn, entranced, lifted her head and breathed deeply...and stepped back in time to enter the world that Eleutheria had opened for her.

" She's fascinated by the ring Annatar gave to you, " Ilennia observed, " My Lord, you must tell me again about this great man who came here to Minas Mardinor, this gift-bearer and bringer of good will and peace! You say he was like an angel of light! I wish I had been there to see him!" She watched Eleutheria keep reaching out for Thlassien's index finger. He wore two other bejeweled rings as well, one sapphire, the other emerald... but the 18-month old child was only interested in the one given to him by this 'Annatar'. The red cabochon jewel seemed to wink mysteriously at Ilennia, and she had to look away from its fiery stare.

The child Eleutheria had raven hair and eyes like her mother, but her already-strong features resembled her proud father Thlassien. There were many whispers about the great fortress of Minas Mardenor that this child, though born of a lowly servant, and out of wedlock, would one day inherit the fiefdom and the wealth along with it...the rule and ownership of the fortress, the rich, fertile lands and mountains beyond, the prosperous villages and towns within.

The Lady Dulthecain, Thlassien's first and only wife, had been dead for over two years and some months, passing away of a mysterious illness after the enlightened visitor Annatar left. Gossipers and jealous members of the council stated that Thlassien's bed had not remained devoid of a woman for long.

And yet it was hard for anyone to dislike the beautiful and shy Ilennia. From a remote village on the outskirts of the Southern Lands she had come to the fortress as first a maid, then worked her way up through the ranks to be near the Lady and Lord. Some said it was only natural that he should take notice of her as more than just a hired hand. She was a tireless and skillful worker, obedient, and kept her relationship with the Lord discreet, speaking to no one about it, and answering no questions, giving naysayers little to spread rumors on.

More unusual was the ever-present reminder that of course, the child was not a boy. Yet it mattered little to Thlassien, who showered Eleutheria with beautiful silk and linen and velvet clothing, little gold and seedpearl earrings, and matching bracelets to fit her tiny wrists.

She was a strong-willed little thing, knew she was doted on, receiving and demanding constant attention. She spoke in full sentences shortly after her first year, and was beginning to pore her hands over books rather than dolls or handmade toys the other servants and court attendees gave her.

Eleutheria had been born in the modest confines of the servant quarters in the lower levels of the keep. But Thlassien loved that baby so much that he insisted Ilennia leave the child with him as much as possible. Soon she could be schooled and educated by private tutors and taught the ways of the world. This was the greatest blessing other than his love to Ilennia....who was illiterate, and if education had been denied to her, let it not be denied to her daughter.

Some thought it was somewhat inappropriate for the lord to bring the child into the war council, where, in these peaceful times, the men discussed the finances and the business matters of the fiefdom rather than war tactics. Thlassien, however, was convinced that in due time, his daughter would understand everything that was being said around her, if she didn't already. If she started to scream or cry, he would hold out his finger with the special ring to quiet her.

It would have been too outrageous for him to allow Ilennia and Eleutheria to share his bed and private rooms , but everyone knew who took care of his needs at night before retiring to her quarters and placing the child in a small, modest bed right next to her own. Occasionally guards would gossip among themselves about what times Ilennia would leave the lord's bedroom carrying the sleeping child over her shoulder and whispering lullabies on her way down the steps to the servant quarters. Sometimes it was before midnight, and other times near the crack of dawn.

Tonight after the usual duties Thlassien had attended to, he retired to the privacy of his elegantly-attired bedroom and to the affections of his beautiful servant girl. She had the fire full and blazing, and had his bath ready. Eleutheria lay sleeping in a smaller sitting room off of the main bedroom. Ilennia undressed the lord with utmost care, planting a tender kiss on his lips and smoothing back his mane of silver hair. After he stepped into the bath, she shed her clothes to join him.

"My father loved that girl," Eleutheria whispered. " And she in return loved him as she had never loved anyone her entire, simple life."

Eowyn found that a tear had formed at the corners of her eyes. How could it have been that such a proud and handsome man could have become the Dark Lord's greatest servant? And that an adorable, beautiful little girl, so full of life and laughter, a war-hungry, cruel and hardened slave to her father? She knew the answers to those questions without hesitation.

The ring.

Eowyn found she was silently weeping. She was not sure for whom she wept more...the innocent child, the loving and benevolent father, or the mother who would never see her child come to fruition.

Eleutheria held open the fantastic vision and then gently shook Eowyn from her tears.
"Save your tears for later, Lady Eowyn. For you will need them. Oh yes, you will need them."

Ilennia picked up the fragrant olive-scented soap and slowly began to work the soap into Thlassien's hands. " We should take off these rings, my Lord. I'll have the gem craftsman clean all of them well before we put them back on. "

Thlassien looked down at her slender, graceful form. It was as if she had never given birth. Her skin was smooth and supple, her stomach and breasts unmarked any stretch marks or sagging. Such was the wonders of mistress so young and yet so endearing to him.

What was he doing with this servant, with this illiterate daughter of simple people? It was not just her youth or her beauty. After his beloved Dulthecain has passed away, his grief seemed unending. There were times when he was nearly prostate with depression, unable to lift himself from his bed. Herbalists tried giving him potions to lift his spirit, a well-known wizard had even come to say a few spells to try to rid him of his deep and profound sadness. It was just so sudden and so strange that Dulthecain should die from such a violent seizure, as she was in perfect health, sound of mind and body.

It happened shortly after the visit of the great and spiritual gift bearer Annatar and the ring was on Thlassien's index finger. Strangely enough while everyone for the most part was taken with the handsome and brilliant visitor, Dulthecain remained reserved towards him, and while she hadn't made her opposition to this ring known to others , Thlassien knew she was less than pleased about it.

She thought that immortality was a curse, not a blessing, even if it was meant to rule over the fiefdom and bring great prosperity in his time that mortality would not see fit to do. Dulthecain did not understand the reasons why he took the ring to begin with. She was appalled by the thought of a talisman bringing some kind of unnatural life span to a man, meant to be by nature, a mortal.

But Thlassien did not think of an immortal life as selfish. Dulthecain reminded him that there would be a price to be paid for taking the ring which he knew nothing about. Thlassien had the final say, because his first thought was not of his own life but of the lives of the people he ruled. He wanted to bring as much prosperity and extend his benevolence as long as he could. And painful as it was to remind himself and his wife, he mentioned that they had no children after nearly twenty years of marriage. It was unlikely that Dulthecain would bear any at her age.

Without any children, there was no heir to the throne. Thlassien had three sisters, and they were married to men he did not care for. They would never agree to become the ruling lady or ladies of the land. There was no male he could entrust the rule of fiefdom to. So it made perfect sense that if his life was to be extended, he would happily rule for as long as he wanted, and he would be assured that his fiefdom would at least remain prosperous. His benevolence would be extended for ages.

And there was more. Annatar had spoken of the ring's power to not also grant immortality, but an assurance of power and wealth. Thlassien had always been exceedingly generous with his wealth, gave to the poor, and tried hard to remedy the situations in the fiefdom that might have led to poverty in the first place.

After a bad flood one season, he had his workers erect stronger dams. After a drought finished off another season of crops and harvests, he used his own finances, not just that of the fiefdom treasury, to help divert river water to the parched farm lands. That had been costly and backbreaking labor digging ditches and dikes, but the people hailed him as a hero for it. And he had been assured of his greatness as a lord and leader. Previously in his youth, he had attained that through politics and the battlefield, now, he attained it through charity and good will to his people.

It can be said behind every strong man there is a strong woman. And Dulthecain was every bit as strong and opinionated as she could allow herself to be. She didn't like the ring, but would say no more about it.

And then she simply died a few weeks after Annatar left. Without warning or symptoms. Her eyes had rolled back in her head and after dropping dead right on the edge of the stairway, her body had fallen down to the very bottom.

The oddest part had been that she was in a part of the fortress she normally never went to. Thlassien had searched for her with no luck for a few hours but it was not until two servants had found her body. When the healer had come to examine her posthumously, he had no explanations for her demise other than she simply had a seizure in the head and that more than likely she was dead before reaching the bottom of the steps.

Curiously, the entire time Thlassien had mourned her death, the ring had taken on an even more brilliant shine, the gold and silver band gleaming brightly, and the stone itself almost pulsing with reddish brilliance.

Now Ilennia had removed the two rings he wore on his left hand, the emerald and the sapphire set in gold. She had been the one to break Thlassien's deep depression, with her quiet smile, her angelic demeanor, and her simple passion for his well-being. She wanted nothing more than his love and companionship. She never demanded anything from him, never suffocated him. Never accepted the lavish gifts he bestowed her on, but insisted they be sold and the money given back to the treasury.

He reached out to touch her fine cheekbones and smiled at her. Nearly thirty years seperated them, and yet, here he was, deeply in love again. Dulthecain would have approved, he was sure of it.

Ilennia tugged at the ring Annatar had given him. She laughed a little, " My Lord, this isn't----coming off." She gave it another tug and applied more soap.

" Odd, " he leaned his strong, large hand against the side of the wood tub and tried to pry it off with his other hand, and then used the wood edge to try to dislodge it. Then he violently jerked his hand away and made a grimace.

" My Lord?" Ilennia looked at his face, which had reddened in pain and discomfort. " What is it?"

" I must have cut myself on the edge of this tub. Look here, my finger is bleeding like mad. Get me a cloth and a salve of some sort. So strange, I thought for a moment there....that the ring had bitten me."

Eleutheria's face was softer now. Eowyn saw a glimmer of happiness in the dark eyes, as the child of the great lord and his beloved mistress looked back into her distant past...with fondness. Fondness, and perhaps, an incredible amount of pain and regret. For a moment the Witch-king's daughter was lost in thought. Eowyn turned back to the vision to learn more about the world and the wonders they lived in.

Thlassien didn't give the ring a second thought for a while until the horrible nightmares began to consume him and he was steadily losing sleep nightly. He dreamt of a black land that had no end in sight, jagged mountain peaks reaching up to a reddened sky filled with sulfurous smoke and ash. There was a gravelly, deep and sinister voice that repeated things in his nightmares in black, unrecogizable tongue. And yet Thlassien knew what the words meant. " One ring to rule them...and bind them together in the darkness..." He was at loss as to the meanings of his nightmares

In some of them he found himself wandering on that black plain, trying to find his way to a place where lava flowed and evil laughter boomed out obscene words at him. When he reached out to grasp a boulder in one dream, he looked down to see the ring had turned into a great red eye, pupil contracting and dilating wildly, and the silver around it had pulsed like a heartbeat. But his hand was withered, dry, and flaking, as if all the life had been sucked out of it, and he screamed himself awake. His page and guards rushed in to find him lying on the floor, blood flowing from a cut on his head.

And there were nights when the dreams were so fevered not even Ilennia, who stayed with Thlassien as long as she could, til the dawn rose, not even her caress or her kisses could calm him. He told her about dreams where he couldn't even remember his own name, and he rode on a great black steed, rushing forward into battle. And sometimes there was a beautiful woman who rode beside him, someone he too, did not recognize, and she was fiercer and crueler than any orc or goblin.

Suffering from lack of sleep did not dampen Thlassien's enthusiasm for his family or the rule of his fiefdom. He found refuge in one of his favorite pasttimes, which was alchemy and magic. Eleutheria was often with him in his special room in the darker quarters of the castle. Here torches burned low and the air was rife with the smells of potent spices, herbs, and brews.

She loved watching him, even as a toddler, as he conjured images and illusions for her, and made things glow with strange dancing lights. He noted to himself that his powers of magic had increased dramatically for unknown reasons. He was able to move things with his mind and was able to skillfully use fire and ice in his illusions. Eleutheria was spellbound when he took his sword and made fire run down the blade, then extinguished it, and created a row of perfectly formed icicles that sparkled with a silvery light. It was a sleight of hand illusion that she never tired of. She did notice something odd though. As time went on and his powers grew, the air in the room itself, and the fortress, grew colder and colder.

The changes in Thlassien's behavior for the first few years that the ring was on his finger were noticeable only by those who were closest to him, including his aide, the squire Nildrothain, and of course, Ilennia and Eleutheria.

" I was six and being tutored by the fiefdom's best instructors," Eleutheria said to Eowyn, " And I spent as much time around my father as did Nildrothain and Ilennia, perhaps even more so, because I was the only one allowed into the alchemy room where he did his magic. As the ring's influence exerted itself over him, so his powers of sorcery became very great. We thought nothing of this, for he had always been a talented magician, practicing since he was a boy himself. I had not forgotten, however, the night when I was but a toddler and had seen the torment in him, when he tried to cut his finger off, and the ring did not allow it. There were other times I caught the ring doing things to him.

" Even now, Lady Eowyn, I do not know why I was the one who witnessed these things no one else did. Perhaps it was because we shared the same blood, and the ring was already using me as a pawn in Lord Sauron's evil game. But I know now too...that my mother Ilennia began to hate the ring as much as Dulthecain did, and it cost her dearly. As you know my mother died when I was sixteen, and by that time, the dark veil of evil was already spreading over the fiefdom."

Nildrothain was Thlassien's closest advisor and aide, and through his loyalty was awarded with the title of steward. People were to follow his rule and his word if Thlassien was not present. He was a single man, never married, and was also deeply in love with Ilennia, who often shared her worries about Thlassien with him. It pained him to listen to her most intimate stories, but she entrusted him with her secrets, and he told no one.

Thlassien had become increasing rough with her in the bedroom, and she had assumed it was because of the nightmares which continually interrupted his sleep through the night.

Ilennia told Nildrothain about one disturbing incident when she had fallen asleep beside Thlassien, she felt as though they were being watched. It became so uncomfortable that she had gotten up and looked around the room, under the bed, in the clothing storage areas, even going so far as to quietly ask a couple of the guards outside the bedroom if there had been any disturbances outside.

Then Thlassien had opened his eyes, and ordered her back to bed, where he proceeded to nearly tear off her nightdress to get inside her. And without any of the usual tenderness or emotional passion he was known for, took what he wanted and then fell asleep again. His arm had lying on top of Ilennia and she struggled to get out from under it, for Thlassien was a powerfully-built man and in exceptional shape for his age. As she was getting dressed, she told Nildrothain that she saw a ray of light coming from the ring. It was as if the stone became an eye, and the eye cast a reflection upon her, staring through very soul.

Eowyn gasped softly as she saw the image before her, as she was standing in the vision, of a half-naked Ilennia, and a thin red beam of light pulsing over her pale flesh. Eleutheria closed the vision with another brief spell, and then the two women stood silently for a moment longer.