His Corrupted Heart [Witch-King x OC]

Chapter III : A True Friend

"Walking with a friend in the dark is better than walking alone in the light." -Helen Keller

At last, Inconnu and Sverundr had reached the High Pass and now she was only days away from her destination. Her inner hunter was alight with excitement, as her prey was cornered and wouldn't be leaving. The hunt was almost at its end, and Inconnu was certainly eager to finish it after so much time spent with only brief encounters and dreams.

It was far past the time to fully discover the man that was Er-Murazor, who had been trapped by the corruption for thousands of years.

Oromё had given her the reassurance that the Witch-King would not be leaving the dark place he was now in. Like the Witch-Realm of Angmar, the Nazgûl tomb deep within the High Fells of Rhudaur gave off the same sinister-no, sinister wasn't quite the right word to describe the feeling she had felt. Sickening, yes, but there was a better word.

Malignant. There was the sure word to describe such a dark place.

Inconnu could feel the hatred even though some distance lied between her and the Fells. It had seeped into the very rocks of the area, tainting this small section of the Misty Mountains as its own. She could understand it however, as she knew the Men of the North had been broken by the Witch-King's power so long ago in recorded history. That in the end Angmar too was toppled and its terrible king, along with his eight brethren, bound and locked deep within the fells.

Buried so deep that not even the light of day could shine upon the horror chained within the darkness.

Inconnu suspected that, at the time, the Witch-King did not care much for his situation. Only that he was trapped and would soon be freed by his master's power. Now in the present day, she was sure that he was feeling very differently. His mind was his own now and has been for some time. The darkness surely affected him now and in his weakened state it would harm him all the more.

Sverundr suddenly shook his head, shaking out the snowflakes that had accumulated there for about an hour. In an automatic response Inconnu shivered and pulled her scarf up higher on her nose to provide better protection.

The harsher, biting weather was now starting to set in here further north. Soon the greater snowstorms would hit and bury anything and everything in its path. It was at this time of the year when nature was at its cruelest within the Hithaeglir, and Inconnu was prepared for such rages of nature. A brief thought crossed her mind, and she wondered if the Witch-King too was familiar with the snow that could wreak great disaster upon the mountain peaks.

The Witch-Realm of Angmar lied further north, and it made sense that the Witch-King would snow of powerful snowstorms. As one who lived and yet was dead however, Inconnu reasoned that he would not be so affected by this force of nature and its cold bite.

Sverundr plowed onward against the wind, his steps sure as he tread the faint path on the mountain. The snowfall wasn't so thick that him and his rider were blind to their surroundings, but an extra vigilance was to be taken in these circumstances. And was due to this habitual precaution that Sverundr noticed small, running figures several yards away. He stopped and snorted, alerting Inconnu to this new development.

With clear understanding, Inconnu focused on the path ahead and was as nearly as still as her companion. Their hot breath steamed the cold air in small puffs as they observed the darting figures ahead. The small creatures were speaking amongst themselves, their language a strange mix of chittering and guttural sounds. Goblins, and it was obvious that they were looking for something. Or rather, someone, and the Huntress of the North that was Inconnu Naeril certainly didn't want her hunt to hindered in this fashion. As the Wanderer of the Mists as well, she also knew how to not be found.