(Warning: Apparent suicide.)
It was a dark and dreary land. Mostly it was compacted earth and lots of black rock. There were a few twisted and tormented trees, a little grassland, and a little vegetation. Naraal wondered how any animals survived. The sky overhead was streaked with red and sickly green lights. The whole place cried 'death' to him.
How different it was to Umbar. Yes, there was a lot of rock and sand there also, but the vegetation was lush and bright with colour. The sky was mostly blue. Sometimes it was grey, but it was never streaked red and green. To him Umbar cried 'life'.
What had the Angmarrim done to their land, he wondered. Power did not necessarily mean ugliness. Far from it. A well-ordered, well run land was beautiful. But this?
The Corsair knew but a little about the few Black Numenorians, his distant kin, of the north who served the Witch King. He wished he had bothered to learn more so he did not appear such a fool to Captain Greenfield.
But he was not a man to waste much time on idle wishes. That was why it surprised him when he thoughts turned to his sister, Narryd. He rarely thought of her anymore. There was just a lingering sense of sorrow at her memory, and that made him weak. They had been close as children, she as active and adventurous as himself. They had wandered the harbours together, to the distress of their parents, who though such behaviour unbecoming for those who still carried the black Numenorian blood. But that blood was to cause problems. For while their father was pure Numenorian, their mother was half Harradrim. A noble line in itself, but not enough to make their merchant family totally accepted by the upper echelons of Umbari society. They had wealth, they had possessions, but they did not quite have the status their father desired. That was until Arnuzir, most loyal to the heirs, saw the young Narryd running and playing in the gardens of their house. The man was fifty years older than her, but he believed he could purchase anything he wanted. Her love did not come into it. Had it been money alone, Naraal's father may well have refused, for he loved his daughter, but that love led him to accept because Arnuzir offered far more than wealth. He offered high and pure blood that would ensure Narryd and her children were fully accepted in Numenorian high society.
Unsurprisingly Narryd had not agreed. She had no wish to marry. Her heart was set on studying in one of the Orders that served Sauron, and used his magics gifted to them. She wanted to be independent, as was possible, but rare.
"Wed with him, and you can do as you wish, so long as he is happy," their father had advised. "No Order will shut its door on you."
"The High Orders only accept the unwed,"had been Naryyd's reply. "One can take as many lovers as they wish, but they must be unbeholden to any."
He had kept out of the matter. He had no love for Arnuzir, what little he knew of him was that he was a cruel man to his servants and captains. Naraal was concerned for his sister if she ever challenged her husband, or lost her looks. But it was not his place to interfere. Not until the day she, garbed in her red silk wedding robes, ran from the house. The family followed, and the servants. But she knew the back allies and short cuts, though she stood out like any noble would. He also knew. He did not tell his parents. So it was he caught up with her on the high cliffs to the east. She was distraught.
"Come home, dear one. Let us speak with our parents that this marriage is called off."
She had not let him draw close, but backed ever nearer to the edge.
"That will not be, brother mine, and you know it. The disgrace to our father would be too much for him."
He had held out a hand, willing her to take it, that he could pull her back. She shook her head.
"I will not wed," she replied. "Rather would I die than do so. Our Lord knows this."
And then there was the sound of horses and many feet as the family and other searched came into sight.
Naryyd smiled at him but turned to the sea. "My life is in Sauron's hands," she said, and she jumped.
He could not get that memory out of his dreams. It was a nightmare he dreaded.
He had jumped forward to grasp her, but missed, catching only her veil.
His father and the others rode down swiftly to the beach, but Narral had known they would find nothing. His sister had chosen the spot well. There were jagged rocks below, and no sand. They found nothing.
"Sauron has claimed her. She willingly sacrificed herself," he told the family. Let Arnuzir challenge Lord Sauron for his prize. Somehow Narral thought that would not happen.
So his family retained their honour, though were not elevated to a higher status. And he ran away to sea.
With a sigh at the pointlessness of what happened, he broke from his revery and looked around at the wilderness he was now in.
Greenfield had been speaking to him, he realised with a slight sense of horror. He hoped he would not be questioned on anything. Pushing thoughts of his sister to the back of his mind, he nodded.
"He thinks to slay me. Ha! I will not wait for him to strike first. Send message. Get the red-haired one and the High Lord, and bring them here."
"Elves?" Naraal said. He suddenly realised who they were speaking of. The red-haired she-elf he had his eye on.
"Of course elves," Greenfield snapped back.
