Veiled Stars » LotR [1] ✔️

WHEN AN AUTHOR HAS A PRESENT

Dear readers, a present from me to you! Only 500 words... but it is a quick afterword/sneak peak that I believe you will enjoy!

Sauron walked among the battlefield.

The air was silent, the breeze calm and the air holding the scent of drying blood. To Sauron, it was perfect.

The perfect day to celebrate his victory.

His lips twisted in disgust as his foot paused above the lifeless body of a Rohan man across his path. Sauron tilted his head, narrowing his eyes.

It was not simply a man.

The Rohan King. King Théoden, he slowly realized.

Fallen defending his son from one of the Nazgul, his eyes open to the sky and blood staining his armor from a sword through his gut.

Sauron kicked him aside, wrinkling his nose.

Momentarily, the breeze picked up, whistling through the desolate war field. Somewhere, a raven cried.

The form of the Maia felt good, the wind upon Sauron's face, the smell of smoke in the air, the flesh and blood under his feet.

He was finally free from the wretched form he had been restricted to for far too long. Trapped in the shape of that dreaded eye.

Of nothing but shadows and the air itself.

Sauron flexed his hand, a smiling curling upon his lips as he gazed over his own flesh. He sighed in content.

Today had been a triumph.

The broken King-- Sauron wasn't sure whether he would survive. There was a chance he would be battered, but alive.

But it mattered not. Sauron's forces would hunt them all to their graves.

And the girl? She would be scarred. Her soul would be nothing but pain and darkness and suffering.

Sauron would hunt her down himself. The Witch-king... of what she had done... That troubled him.

There was something in the marking of her shoulder.

A power that the foolish Witch-king had transferred through the words of Black Speech upon her flesh.

Suddenly an Uruk ran over, breaking him out of his victory. "My Lord... There-- there--" He stumbled off.

Sauron snapped to him, narrowing his eyes impatiently. "What is it? Speak creature, or lose your head from its shoulders."

The Uruk bowed. "There is something you should see, my Lord."

Sauron clenched his fist, withholding the urge to remove the life from the Uruk. Curtly, he followed the creature deeper into the battlefield.

Then he came to a sudden stop, standing straighter.

Admist the bodies, where Sauron and the elven scum had fought, still laid the lifeless body of the prince.

Yet, it was not quite him. Something had changed.

The golden of his hair was gone, the skin turned cold and placid. It was the dark side, the side Sauron had first sensed upon the prince.

He had transformed... in death?

"What is this?" Sauron hissed. He whirled around upon the Uruk, his golden eyes glowing dangerously. "What happened?"

"The elf, my Lord," the Uruk stumbled out. "He... he..."