Severus gaped wordlessly at the image that was present in his mind - at least, he assumed it was his mind, because surely he was not actually in Barad-Dur. He was in a dark room, a large window in front of him with a faint glow radiating through it from sooty black clouds above and barren, dark stony ground that stretched as far as he could see, but all else was blackness. Suddenly there was a flash of orange, and in the distance he saw, had he known its name, Orodruin, which lay directly west of the Window of the Eye from which he gazed. A river of fire wound its way from the base of the peak toward where he was, disappearing below view. He could not turn his view from where it was fixed, but whether he was unable to or he dared not he did not know for sure.

Sauron stared down at him, Darkness made flesh. He could not discern any features on him save that he was humanoid in shape and terribly large and powerful. A great heat radiated from him that would have burned Severus if he had been actually been there, and the air shimmered from it giving everything an illusory feeling. The Dark Lord's eyes were like embers, black pupils narrowed in malice peering through shadow, and the intensity of his gaze was more terrifying than any Nazgul or Dementor, and he knew that it was a gaze that made the world tremble before it and commanded forces greater than he could comprehend.

"What is your name?" Sauron's voice was harsh and frightening, but it held a strange beauty to it.

Severus made no thought of lying. "Severus Snape."

"I have heard much of you, Severus Snape. It appears that the rumors are true..." Sauron spoke no actual words as far as Severus could tell, and he replied with none, but it seemed as if they had both spoken anyway.

Severus stared wearily up at Sauron. The intense heat was smothering, and he wondered if his body was being consumed by fire back in Dol Guldur. "The rumors, my Lord?"

Sauron laughed cruelly. "You supplicate well, little slave. Tell me, how did your supplication serve you in Thranduil's mighty halls?"

"What do you want from me?" Severus asked. He could not actually see the Dark Lord's face through the shadow, but somehow he could tell that he smiled.

"My servants have already told you your task. I only seek surety, Severus. I want to know that you are now loyal to me."

"I am, my Lord. Why would you doubt it?"

"Were you a man I could see it. One cursed by Eru with such an appearance would surely turn to me..." Sauron began to laugh once again. "Tell me, Severus, how the elves tolerated having one so wretched in their care?"

"They were unjust, my Lord, but not cruel."

"You damn them with faint praise. Mordor welcomes all who wish to serve. Doubt remains, however. Tell me, Severus, where are you from?"

Severus hesitated only the slightest amount, but he could sense the disapproval radiate from the Dark Lord, and suddenly the agony increased tenfold. It was worse than anything; worse even than the Cruciatus Curse. The pain cut to his very soul, and he felt a crushing despair at the same time as every nerve in his body screamed. He was about to cry out the truth, to shout "England!" at the top of his lungs; anything to make the pain lessen, but when he did so, it was not that which came out.

"Valinor!"

A snort of grim triumph. "What was your name before you came? Whom did you serve?"

Once again he seemed to know the answer, and this time he did not hesitate before giving it. "Auciri of Ulmo."

"Why were you sent here?"

"I hoped to impress the one I loved." Sauron laughed cruelly.

"You thought that great deeds and heroic efforts would avail you. That is why you agreed to come." Sauron regarded Severus shrewdly. "You have seen the might and strength of Mordor. None in Middle-Earth can stand against Me now. Certainly not a pathetic fool such as yourself. Do you understand, little slave?"

"I have seen the might of Mordor, oh great Sauron," Severus said. "I will serve you now, and I will have my revenge on the elves and on those who have turned me away."

"You shall have it, little slave, but first, I must know the truth of your words myself. Open your mind willingly, for I shall not be gentle if you do not." The burning eyes narrowed suddenly, and Severus could feel the pull on his mind growing. He opened his mind and relaxed his shields, and the Eye drove into his mind with an intensity that worse than anything Lord Voldemort had ever done, even on that day when Severus had arrived hours late after his rebirth and was tortured for hours on end.

He gave to the Eye the memories that had once been most precious to him, but no longer held any true strategic value. They were different than he remembered living them. It was not Hogwarts he remembered, but a strange land of unthinkable beauty and scale. It was not Lily he remembered, but a red-haired goddess. It was not magic they practiced, but the creation of the world itself. It was not Voldemort he had turned to, but Melkor, the Dark Lord who had served before Sauron. He did not turn to Dumbledore for freedom, but a powerful God-like figure known as Manwe. He was pardoned for providing crucial intelligence that aided Melkor's defeat in the great War of Wrath millennia before, but it did nothing to win the heart of the one he loved.

The Eye retreated from his mind. Severus was on the floor of the Witch-King's chamber, and he saw the image of Sauron slipping away. "You will serve me well, Severus Snape. We will make all things right and destroy all those who have wronged us."

"Yes, my Lord."

He looked up at the Nazgul, now facing away from him and at a distance. He realized that he could see him now, though not clearly, and his crown no longer rested on nothing. White, ghostly hair fell down to his shoulders and pale hands emerged from long sleeves. Severus slipped out unconsciousness, and forgot to remove his ring.

"Wake up, Severus," said the other voice. The one that had promised to help him. "Your Master needs you."

Severus opened his eyes. He was in his bed once again, a low fire burning in the grate. Galadriel did not appear to him as Sauron had, nor did she split his head open in agony. He felt a strange warmth push the coldness and dread from his encounter with Sauron and the Nazgul away.

"What did you do?" Severus demanded of the voice. He heard no reply for long seconds.

"We told the Enemy only what he wanted to hear," Galadriel replied. Severus could detect the very faintest hints of smugness. "Gandalf told me what he knew of you; I embellished your own tale as you revealed it to us."

"What else do you know of me?" Severus narrowed his eyes at the fireplace opposite him, for all the good it would do.

"Sauron created the Rings of Power to control others - I was able to use that purpose to my advantage to be with you as you fought him. You did well, Severus. Few could withstand such a meeting."

"I don't trust you."

"I do not ask you to. I only ask one thing - what do you know of the Rings of Power?" Severus considered refusing to answer or lying, but he did owe Galadriel for helping him withstand Sauron, and she had no part in Gandalf and Thranduil's idiocy.

"Aragorn told me everything."

"Middle-Earth owes you a great debt for keeping such secrets, Severus Snape. Thranduil and Gandalf will surely be chastened to learn of your bravery." Severus could not stop the self-satisfied smirk that grew on his face.

"Your praise would be more meaningful had you not been prepared to learn my secrets by force."

"Thranduil deceived you. My purpose in Mirkwood is far graver than that - we have reason to believe the Enemy has chosen to attack the Woodland Realm in force, and he gathers many armies to Dol Guldur." Severus snorted. He would surely look like a fool if anybody had been watching him.

"I'm afraid your speculation is correct; perhaps a way to entice me to join him?" Severus smiled maliciously at the thought. "He doesn't want me to join the army, though. He has another plan for me."

"We shall see. The Dark Lord trusts no-one fully save the Nine, but we have increased his confidence in you greatly."

"I'm afraid I don't share your enthusiasm," Severus replied mockingly.

"Your situation is more perilous than you know. Use your ring as little as you are able, for if what I suspect is true it is an evil thing in total, and will twist all your purpose to serve the one who rules it. I must go; call upon me when you are able."

Galadriel's presence faded from Severus' mind. He sat up and pulled the ringer from his finger with a feeling of mingled relief and disappointment. He could sense the power and control it offered him slipping away, but he could also tell that some of it still lingered. Gimlan arrived almost immediately afterward.

"The Master commands your presence," he said. Severus could detect a glint of triumph in the man's cold eyes. Severus said nothing and followed him, but Gimlan seemed eager to gloat. "Did I not tell you that all are slaves to the Eye?"

Severus gave the man his hardest sneer. "Do you think I'm an idiot? Of course I knew what they were doing. If you weren't too busy getting buggered you might have paid attention."

Gimlan whirled around, fists clenched, a red look on his ancient face. Severus suspected that had he been armed, he would have tried to eviscerate Severus right then and there. "You may be his new favorite pet, but you're still an ugly little low-man. Watch your tongue."

Severus smirked maliciously as he snatched his ring and placed it between thumb and forefinger. "Do you mock me, servant?"

To his great delight Gimlan lunged, his hands grabbing for the ring. Had Severus been magically helpless he would have been overtaken, but he was not. Gimlan was blasted backward, and he landed hard against the far wall in a heap.

"I think I know the way," he said coolly as the taller man glared hatefully at him from the ground. "Maybe I'll mention what you did to 'the Master'?" Gimlan, to his credit, showed no fear at Severus' threat, and he felt a small measure of grudging respect for the man.

Severus slipped the ring back on as he entered the spiral staircase and began to descend the Elf Tower.

"He plans to train me," he told Galadriel.

"Hold back. Do not show the true extent of your powers."

"Anything useful to tell me?" Galadriel seemed wholly unconcerned by his scornful tone.

"His true purpose is always to draw you toward his master. Do not argue; nor defy openly. Try to seem as if you have succumbed."

"I'm not an idiot."

"Nor is the Enemy; nor his servants. Never underestimate their cunning, but have faith that you can overcome it."

Severus mentally scoffed, but he could not deny that having his own strategy confirmed was comforting. He let the Nazgul's guard-orc accompany him down into the black depths of the haunted tower once again, and entered into the cruel chamber where he resided. The Witch-King was waiting for him, robed this time, his face hidden, and he approached Severus as he entered.

"Severus. You come at last. Let us begin; first you must be armed. Sorcery alone makes a poor weapon." Severus did not scoff, both out of fear and because long months deprived of a wand had made him come appreciate muggle weaponry. "What weapon do you favor, oh mighty Severus?" the Nazgul asked.

"Do not tell him you are untrained." Galadriel whispered into his mind.

"I see thousands of years of life have given you a fantastic amount of wisdom," Severus thought snidely.

"A sword will suit you best, though a spear would not be a poor choice. Know that the Enemy gives no gifts without some cause." Severus refrained from another sarcastic remark.

"A sword," Severus said, remembering the Sword of Gryffindor.

"Very well," said Angmar. "You shall be armed when you leave; a fine enough blade for so mighty a warrior, I hope."

Severus scoffed inwardly, but Galadriel made no comment. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"I will teach you to use your ring, so that you may serve Sauron fully." Severus raised an eyebrow.

"How would you know how to use it?" he asked innocently. The Nazgul hissed darkly.

"I have a magic of my own. Do not presume to question me again; I am Lord and you servant."

"I apologize, my Lord," Severus said respectfully. The Nazgul seemed placated.

The Rings of Power specialized in indirect magic. Direct spells such as curses and charms were unheard of. The Witch King trained him in what he called Words of Command, through which he could perform simple but powerful charms on objects and on people of weak will. The ring magnified his own power greatly, but limited his ability to perform more precise, direct magic. He did not deliberately hold back, but he only demonstrated the commands given to him by the Nazgul, which were to be uttered in an ancient tongue that was no longer spoken in Middle-Earth.

"Take this block and destroy it," the Nazgul said as the Orc servant dragged a surprisingly large block into the dim room. Severus focused, allowing his magic to flow into the ring. His fingers channeled the magic rather than the point of his want, so with a flick of his right hand he sent the spell forward. There was no beam of light, but the block promptly shattered with a loud crack and crumbled into dust. Severus was sorely tempted to try repairing the block, but it seemed that kind of magic was unheard of in Middle-Earth.

They practiced several other simple, basic charms of the nature before the Nazgul was satisfied that Severus had mastered the ring enough to be useful.

"You have learned well, Severus son of Tobias," the Nazgul said finally. "You may be able to withstand that which you seek should it come to battle. Use the ring often and freely, for only through much practice can you truly master it."

"Your praise is greatly appreciated, my Lord," Severus said respectfully, noting the wraith's treacherous advice. He would need to avoid using the thing as much as possible.

"You will depart tomorrow for Edoras as we planned, along with a small company; forty Mordor Uruk, ten Wargs, ten Isenguard Uruk-hai, and Gimlan to command them. The Mouth has generously agreed to send two Olog-hai to accompany you as well. He has requested a final audience. Raakhuga will take you to him presently."

"As you wish, my Lord," Severus said respectfully. He exited the horrible chamber with no small amount of relief. The ring enabled him to avoid the effects of the Black Breath, but the presence of the Nazgul was terrifying even without the curse it carried.

The Orc, Raakhuga, led Severus silently down to the ground floor once again. Severus surreptitiously removed his ring as soon as possible. The Mouth waited seated on his supremely gruesome horse.

"Severus, it is good to see you again. I regret that you have chosen to serve the ghost-man before myself," he said with a smile that Severus assumed meant he was not seriously put out.

"I wanted to begin as soon as possible." The Mouth gave him a skeptical look.

"You still do not truly wish to serve, I see. I hope in time you will understand Lord Sauron's great need."

"I am eager to leave this place, and Mordor did not seem like it would be any better."

The Mouth let out a mirthful laugh. "Some honesty at last. I will admit that Gorgoroth is not a pleasant place to stay, and I have no desire to leave even gloomy Lugtau for it once again. I have gifts for you; one from our Master, and one from myself."

"Lord Sauron is very generous," Severus said.

"Ever polite and respectful when it matters most, Severus. You will serve long with such an attitude. Come. We will see them now."

The Mouth led Severus out of the grand entrance doors and down into the Amon Lanc, the treeless hill on which the fortress rested. The Orcs were still camped all around, but a long, empty pathway stretched between them. Severus followed as the Mouth's horse moved at a slow trot down it.

"Lord Angmar tells me of a treacherous Uruk who attacked you as you fled. Only natural that you should do so; I have chosen to give you justice. Do you wish it?"

Severus did not hesitate. "Yes."

The Mouth laughed at this. "Ah, I see that old prejudice holds true in you. A Man you fear to see chastised, but an Uruk not so?"

"He shot me. Obviously I want to see him punished." The Mouth grinned widely.

"Good! It is only natural, though it was foolish of you to flee as you did."

"What makes you think I fled?" Severus asked.

"I do not know, friend," the Mouth said casually. "I was not there." Severus cursed inwardly. Either the Mouth did not know of his animagus form, or was shrewd enough to not reveal that he did. Angmar would surely want to hold on to such a piece of leverage, and Severus could not even be sure that the Nazgul had seen him transform, though he would have to assume he had.

They came to a large fire pit that was blazing in the middle of the pathway. Orcs had crowded around in anticipation, but at the approach of the Mouth they quieted instantly. Severus was impressed that a mere mortal Man could generate such an effect on them, a clear demonstration of the power that Sauron projected even while thousands of miles away.

Takhbork was shackled to a post just outside the blaze. Dargum and the other three Orcs that had taken Severus to Dol Guldur stood beside him. They were obviously engaged in some kind of mockery by the wide, malicious grins they held which were reflected by the look of fear and hatred on the small Orc's face.

"You!" the Orc snarled, his eye finding Severus. "Elf-Lover! He's an enemy, I tell you! A spy of Gondor! I'm sure of it! A shape-shifter!"

Severus pales at that, but the Mouth cut him off. "Be silent, snaga. We've already heard all that you have to say. You assailed an ally of our Master, and for that you shall pay."

"No! Listen!" the Orc cried out. "He's a traitor! He tried to flee! He can turn into a beast." The Mouth began to laugh. Severus slipped on his ring as Dargum growled nastily at his former subordinate.

"An animal? You little slug. He did not have his wand. He could transform into nothing."

"He transformed into a - a dog! I saw it!"

"A dog?" the Mouth asked incredulously. "There was no dog present, little Orc. Your lies will not avail you now."

Severus removed the ring as Dargum dragged his former comrade to his feet. "He tricked me! He put a spell on me! It wasn't a dog. It was a - a - a"

"Put him in the Bone-Breaker," the Mouth said, and a rapturous cheer rang out through the gathered Orcs. "We want to hear him squawk, don't we, lads?"

"Bone-Breaker! Bone-Breaker!" cried the Orcs. Severus watched numbly as they crowded in closer, their thousands of eyes narrowed in malicious anticipation, and for the first time he wished that the Nazgul was nearby. The Mouth's political authority seemed terribly inadequate while surrounded by thousands of Orcs mad with blood-lust.

"Do not tell me the entertainment bores you, master Severus," the Mouth asked, his tone almost teasing. "You have a long journey ahead, and a perilous end to it. I bid you enjoy yourself. Come, have some drink."

The Mouth passed Severus a deep cup full of some kind of beer-like liquid. Severus was no stranger to alcohol, and his ability to indulge in it in moderation had always given him a spiteful satisfaction when he considered his drunk of a father, but he deemed it unwise to indulge in the company of the assembled might of Mordor in Dol Guldur. He sipped it slowly, which was easy because it was terrible. He wondered if it was the same drink they served to the Orcs.

The Orcs seemed to take an absurd, fanatical delight as Takhbork was mercilessly tormented on a high platform above the fire, his agonized face clear for all to see. Severus wanted to enjoy it himself, but was unable to. The Orc might have been his enemy and a thorn in his side, but he had not been a coward or a fool. Takhbork had pegged Severus true from the beginning, and he could not help but feel a grudging respect for the Orc because of it. Severus could not help but imagine that it was himself up there instead. It very well could have been had he not played his cards just right with Sauron earlier.

The Mouth beckoned Severus to follow him up onto the torment platform when the Orcs seemed finally to have their fill. It was a wooden, rickety thing elevated high above the ground, with several gallows with trap doors below them and several gibbets beside. Several torture machines that looked evil enough idle were positioned at various points. The one that held Takhbork was a classic design; a long bed with shackles for each limb that four burly Orcs cranked apart with delighted glee.

"Mighty soldiers of Mordor, Isengard and Mirkwood, I hope you all have enjoyed this show," the Mouth hollered. Severus doubted his voice carried further than the first several dozen ranks, but the entire mass of them crowed in pleasure. "Do not thank me, though. Thank Severus, your newest Master."

The Orcs quieted instantly and eyed Severus wearily.

"What do you say, Severus? Mercy, or Death for the traitor?"

The chant of "Death, Death, Death," went out instantly as thousands of hideous faces clamored to get a better view of their sport. Takhbork himself seemed to have gone unconscious from shock, and hung limply from his shacked, the tension having been released.

The Mouth handed Severus a long, serrated dagger. "Do not be quick about it. The better the sport the more they will love you."

Severus, for all his less than stellar deeds in life, had never had the stomach for inflicting cruelty with his own hands, and the last thing he wanted to do was personally cut another person apart, even if it was a horribly deformed Orc who hated him and had shot him with an arrow. Instead he slipped on the ring, and was glad when Galadriel responded quickly.

"Rings of Power give their bearers great powers of persuasion," Galadriel whispered. "Let it guide you as you speak, but always beware." Severus opened his mind to the ring, and when he spoke his voice sounded different even to himself.

"I am tark," he said. "It is not my place to judge him. I leave that to you."

The Orcs began to chant loudly once again at this proclamation as the Mouth translated it for him into their own ugly language.

"Dushatarburz! Dushatarburz! Dushatarburz!" came the cry.

"They say, 'Dark Wizard'," the Mouth told him. "You have impressed them, it would seem."

Severus and the Mouth descended from the platform and Severus removed the ring once again. The Orcs let out a roar and began to close in on the platform, and Severus hurried away. He vaguely heard the Mouth following him, but he did not look back. He had had enough of Mordor and Orcs and their ceaseless maliciousness to last a lifetime. Even Mulciber would have found them intolerable. Greyback would have been right at home.

"Cunningly played, friend, though I must question your intentions," the Mouth said. "Will you hesitate when Sauron asks you to kill, I wonder?"

Severus scoffed. "I will do whatever he commands me, and no more."

"That is not the attitude that he would desire."

"Take it up with the Nazgul," Severus said coldly. "I would like to get some sleep before I leave tomorrow."

"As you wish," the Mouth said, his own tone growing hard to match that of Severus. "I do think you were foolish to enter his service. The wraiths know nothing of mortal concerns. They are merely slaves, forever deprived of any will of their own."

"If that's what Sauron wants, then who are we to question?" The Mouth frowned at that, but nodded.

"You are correct, of course. Lord Sauron knows best."

Severus did not look back as he was led back into the Elf Tower. The Mouth bid him farewell before Gimlan began to lead him back to his chambers up the long spiral staircase.

Gimlan confirmed to Severus that he would accompany Severus on his mission to Moria. Severus suspected that Angmar and the Mouth had an alternative motive for the assignment, but he could not deny that the non-Orc company would be welcome, however inadequate it would be. The alcohol even allowed Severus to admit a key problem he had been struggling to address.

"I do not know how to use a sword," Severus admitted. Gimlan gaped at him. "I need you to train me - I assume you do know how?"

"I do," the man said. He gave Severus a look of deep disdain.

"I also need to learn to ride a horse better."

"You are not serious?" Severus wondered how much Gimlan's shock was genuine and how much was feigned to increase his humiliation.

"I'm deadly serious. You will teach me what I need to know and you'll keep silent about it. Do you understand?" Gimlan glared at Severus hatefully but acquiesced.

"As you wish, Engwar." Severus frowned. "Do not expect me to be kind about it. You are pathetic; it is a wonder you have survived so long."

"I did not ask your opinion, slave," Severus said snidely. "Maybe I ought to cut your tongue out; you won't need it to serve me."

Gimlan snorted. "You have not the guts, Elf-friend. You may fool the Master but you do not fool me."

Severus laughed. "You presume to know better than they do? Perhaps I should tell them this, and I won't need to get my hands dirty at all. You're right - I don't have the stomach, but I've always believed that what I can't see won't hurt me."

"You think the Orcs will side with you?" Severus fingered his ring and gave a smug smile.

"You're mine now, Gimlan. You'd best get used to it."

Severus slammed his chamber door shut in the other man's face. He slipped on the ring and called for Galadriel, but she did not come for several minutes. He spent the time eating his last meal, which consisted mostly of fruits from the Elf Garden and brown bread. It seemed that rations were tightening, because he was only given a piece of dry, salted meat. A way to entice him to leave rather than linger, he suspected.

"If you wish to be free of them, then you will lead them directly west to the Anduin. You can pass near Lothlorien. I have told Celeborn your tale; he will welcome you as a guest until your wand can be returned."

"Forgive me if I do not trust in the kindness of elves," Severus said coldly.

"Not all Elves are as Thranduil. I would have you as an ally, Severus Snape, not a rival. Gandalf made a grave error in his grief, but he will atone in time. You must trust in me, as I am willing to trust in you."

"What do you suggest is my next move, then?"

"Do what you have already planned. Your own cunning serves you well. The Enemy believes that they have won you, and that it is only a matter of time until the ring binds you. They do not understand the truth of your own nature."

"How do you know that?"

"Not all who taste Darkness are bound to it."

"Your confidence is... touching."

Severus removed his ring and enjoyed his last time sleeping in a proper bed for what he suspected would be a long time. Gimlan came earlier than Severus would have liked and woke him, and they began the final journey down the steps of the Elf Tower.

"How did you come to serve Lord Angmar?" Severus asked. Gimlan seemed torn between ignoring Severus and answering, but the man seemed to love the sound of his own voice.

"I had nowhere else to go. Once I killed my worthless father I was no longer welcome among the Elf-Friend scum. Not that I had any interest in serving like they seemed to. Pathetic fools, running round trying to help fat old barkeeps and scrawny halflings."

"You were a Dunedain?" Severus asked. Aragorn had often spoke fondly of the halflings that lived across the Misty Mountains. Short, hairy footed humanoids that played little part in the affairs of Gondor, Mordor and the Elves and Dwarves.

"My father was, the worthless fool. A life of servitude, he told me, was the noblest of all."

"Yet you serve anyway..." Severus said mockingly.

"So I do," Gimlan said. "It is better to serve on the winning side, at least. A sentiment I am sure you can understand."

"Better to serve no-one," Severus said.

"Aye, but I do not possess mighty powers. The ring was denied to me."

"They offered it?" Severus asked.

"Of course they did. Think you so special, Engwar? They flattered me and said words of comfort and glory to me."

"Do you regret it?" Severus asked.

"What does it matter? We are both slaves of the Eye now. We are but Men, damned to serve our betters until death takes us. The curse of the Valar. Lord Sauron says that if we serve him well, Melkor may lift it one day, and Men will rule and the Uruk will finally be at peace."

"Do you believe any of that?" Gimlan snorted.

"Of course not. Sauron is no different than you and I, just mighty. He desires only that which he can get for himself, and we are but pawns in his great game."

"You could... defect," Severus said carefully. "Gondor or the Elves would surely forgive any transgression with all the information you could provide."

Gimlan seemed to consider for a long moment. "No, Severus. Far better to serve Sauron than them."

"Why?"

"Though I be a slave to the Eye, I am not a slave to any fool's false morality. In Mordor it is power that matters, and those too weak to seek it fall aside. Those who show the highest strength and might rise, and I am mightier than most."

Severus laughed mockingly at this. Voldemort without his wand; it was utterly pathetic to hear it. "Have you ever loved?"

"Love? What is love, but a delusion for the weak? In Mordor we do not lie and pretend. Only power matters. You should be glad of it, because you possess it in yourself." Severus could hear the man's envy and bitterness at that.

"We are both slaves in the end. What does power matter when you don't have any will?"

"You are a fool, Severus Snape, and your words betray your true sympathies. They will be your downfall, whether it be by Sauron or the Elves you hope will welcome you."

They came at last to the entrance hall of the tower. The great doors were once again opened, and Severus saw the Mouth, mounted, but he was flanked by two monstrous creatures. Their red eyes regarded Severus shrewdly when they found him, and Severus could feel the presence of Sauron in them. The Dark Lord controlled them far more directly than he did his Orcs or Nazgul, and he knew that their presence on his journey was as much to hinder him from any treachery as it was to aid him.

"Olog-hai - they do not speak the Common Tongue," the Mouth said, gesturing to his companions. "Only the language of Mordor. They will serve all commands without question."

"What he means," Gimlan whispered, "is that they'll gut you the second you even consider treason. I speak the language of Mordor, Snape, and I speak it well. Harken to that, Elf-Friend."

Severus ignored him as he approached the Mouth. The Man remained mounted, but he led another horse forward.

"A gift for thee from Sauron. Bred in Mordor for the Nazgul, it will serve you faithfully even in the presence of Wargs and Trolls."

Severus eyes the black horse wearily. He could sense a coldness in the animal's mind that was more terrifying than any actual malice or fear, and he approached it cautiously. He slipped on his ring once again, and he soon felt Galadriel's presence in his mind.

"They have broken its will," she told him. "It will serve you faithfully, though not lovingly. A well enough mount for a novice rider." Severus could not miss the disgust and horror in her voice.

"I thank you, and I thank Lord Sauron," Severus said respectfully as he wearily took the mount's reigns. His experiences with Gandalf along the Anduin had given him enough skill to mount the horse and match the Mouth's pace as they stepped out onto the balcony and began to descend the steps down into the Amon Lanc once again.

They rode a short distance until they came to a clearing in the Orc camps where the Witch-King waited, cloaked and armored. Severus dismounted wearily and approached the wraith, who stood before a Man who was holding a sword in his hand.

"Take up your sword, Severus son of Tobias," the Witch-King said. Severus looked down at the impressive blade. It was long and slender, with only one cutting edge, and it glowed a haunting blue. The Witch-King seemed to shrink from it, and the Orcs eyed it wearily.

"It is Orcrist, once wielded by Thorin the Dwarf traitor. We thought it appropriate a gift for you, because you hold his father's ring, and its mate belongs to Gandalf, who wronged you," said the Mouth, who took the sword from the other Man and held out the blade with its handle outward to Severus. "We would see you plunge it into Graybeard's heart one day."

Severus took the elegant blade in one hand, and the scabbard in another. Not wanting to show his inexperience with the weapon, he quickly sheathed it, and only missed the small opening once before clumsily buckling it to his waist.

"Orcs fear the weapon," the Mouth said in a quieter voice. "They will obey you much more readily if you present it to them. A Master's orders may not hold so true when he is many miles away, you see."

"An Elvish blade," the Nazgul said. "Let it be they who fear it in this Age. Long have we turned our enemies' weapons and fortresses against them. What say you, oh mighty Severus?"

"I am ever grateful for all that Lord Sauron gives me," Severus said respectfully. "I hope to use it to serve him well."

"I bid you luck then, Severus son of Tobias," the Mouth said, and he clapped Severus on the shoulder. "Sauron will reward you beyond all others when you return." He then turned to Gimlan. "Serve him well, slave."

Gimlan nodded respectfully, his hatred concealed well.

"Depart then, Severus," the Witch-King said grandly. He let out a shrieking cry that rent the air as Severus remounted, and suddenly the lines of nearby Orcs formed up and turned as one, and Severus beheld his little army for the first time. The Mordor Orcs closed up into rough ranks led by Dargum, while Narnûlubat formed his Uruk-hai into a neat line. Severus felt a shiver of fear pass through him as he saw the Wargs mingling around the edges. The Olog-hai hefted their large weapons, one a long, heavy spear of solid steel and the other a large sword, and turned to face Severus and Gimlan expectantly. Gimlan have a sharp command in what Severus recognized as the Black Speech, and as one the entire regiment of sixty-six soldiers and beasts began to move forward.

Severus looked down at the weapon he had been given. It was a beautiful sword, as beautiful and well-made at it was deadly, but it continued to glow brightly. What use was a weapon that gave his position away like a beacon?

"A treacherous gift," Galadriel whispered into his mind. "They robbed it from the tomb of Thorin, who is held in high esteem among all the free peoples. You will create foes whenever you wield it."

"Finally, you are of some actual use. What about the ring?"

"The ring of Thrain. I have suspected it from the beginning, but now it is confirmed for certain. You wield the Ring of Earth, mightiest of the Rings of Power save the Three and the One."

"What does that mean?"

"You will find it easiest to manipulate physical things, and to shape and change."

"You mean Transfiguration?"

"A fitting word to describe it, if my knowledge of the Common Tongue does not fail me."

"Is this ring... corrupted by Sauron?"

"It is. You must be careful that you do not let it overtake you. The will of Sauron is a part of it, and always it will try to twist your actions and commands to its own desires."

"What do you suggest I do, then?"

"Celeborn has sent out riders to meet you in secret as you approach Lothlorien. There you are to be welcomed and given freedom of the realm."

"Perhaps I don't want to go there?"

"I do not see any other path for you save continued enslavement to the Enemy. Already spies of the Woodland Realm and Gondor have seen you in service of him, and have brought their reports to Lord Thranduil and Lord Denethor. Thranduil has learned of your part in aiding the goblins and killing his men. He will not easily forgive such an act."

"What of my forgiveness?" Severus asked.

"Pride is more treacherous than any foe; trust me more than any in this. You and he will need to look past old hurts before the end." Severus scoffed loudly and pulled the ring from his finger as Gimlan have him an odd look and raised an eyebrow.

They marched and rode for long minutes past endless camps and tents, and Severus wondered how Thranduil and Galadriel could ever withstand such a force. He glanced one last time at Dol Guldur dwindling behind him, the Elf Tower still beautiful yet haunted and ruined and the Nazgul's tower glaring down in black menace, and a single solitary beam of sunlight falling through the endless darkness. His company made its way slowly down the slopes of the Amon Lanc and finally entered the canopy once again along the Sorcerer's Road.

Severus Snape, known as Engwar by the elves and Dushatarburz by the Orcs rode away from Dol Guldur and into the Mirkwood once again. The Dark Wizard went forth to do his Master's bidding.