Hello everyone, thanks for the reviews/faves! I knew it took me a bit longer than I thought it would to get this one done but I'm glad it's finished. This was a rather fun one to write and I took some creative liberties with it as you'll see soon enough. Hopefully you guys will enjoy it! Happy Easter to everyone who will be celebrating it as well on Sunday!

Brothers in Pain

Two days after his agonizing recollections, the Witch-king was still quite bereaved and depressed. He had spent those days invisibly wandering about Minas Tirith and its regal household. While an ordinary visitor might've had their eyes widened in awe at the majesty and beauty of the White City, he only kept his iron helm down. No sight seemed to appeal to him or catch his admiration. If anyone could see him wander aimlessly, they would've perhaps felt a mixture of pity and fear.

Through all of this, his mind was racing and his self loathing held him captive. The ebony spirit ignored all that went on around him as he tortured himself by thinking about Rhoneya and Nilihir's deaths over and over again. It was something he couldn't come to terms with and he felt even more reluctant to pass on than he already did. The fact that he had harmed and betrayed his own blood put an enormous weight on him. The pain lingered tauntingly and it refused to go away. He cursed that although he was dead, his heart was still breaking. It was such a bittersweet realization for him to cope with that the dead could still feel.

His love for the shieldmaiden of Rohan still remained oppressed and drowned by his woes and sorrows. He could barely even look at her anymore without feeling like he needed to simply cease to exist. The fact that she was also becoming closer to Faramir further put strain on him even though he already told himself he wouldn't harm the young steward or try to keep them apart due to his jealousy. The Witch-king reminded himself that he wouldn't break her heart yet again. Although she had exacted her revenge by slaying him, it would never be enough to ease the harsh passing of Theoden. It would've been better if he simply had the courage to pass on and accept his ultimate fate.

Again and again, he told himself that he must accept that she would never give her heart to him. Instead, she'd be more likely to drive a sword into his face once more or directly into where his heart used to lie. Besides, he was nothing more than a cold wisp of air and the embodiment of grief and regret whereas she was young and so full of life. To force her to accept his love was cruel and it was something he could never dream of doing to her. So desperately, he wanted to pour his heart out to her, but he resisted. He kept telling himself she needed to recover and he needed to gain greater courage to confront her one last time.

On this night, he decided to leave the walls of the ancient city and go out into the battlefield where he had perished not too long ago. Something called him out to those fields but he didn't know what it was. He deemed that he simply needed to go elsewhere for the sake of a change of scenery and it was that alone.

On silent and armored feet, he walked through the gates. For a moment, he paused to survey them and took note of the heavy damage on them, reminding him of the power of hellish battering ram, Grond.

"Grond! Grond! Grond! Grond…"

A soft hiss came from him as he could've sworn he heard the vile cheering and chanting of the Orc legions as the flaming ram was pushed to the gates. He turned his back on the carnage and walked onwards, stepping onto the eerily quiet Pelennor Fields. At this time, he couldn't stand to look at the ruin and destruction he had committed in his dark past life.

The stars were lit brightly above him, prompting him to turn his eyeless stare up at the sky. For a fleeting moment, admiration and wonder filled him as he studied the calm, deep blue, celestial landscape. There was also a crescent moon hanging at a high trajectory in the sky, looking so much like a pockmarked yet pure pearl. He could feel the coolness of the early spring night around him and it helped to soothe him just a little. Yet despite all this peace and beauty, he knew all was not what it seemed.

His head turned from the heavens and he brought his gaze back to the ground. Before him, there was still evidence of the battle. Progress had been made in clearing the fields of the dead and other waste scattered about but there was still plenty of work to be done. It would still take a lot of time to completely remove everything. But even when all was removed, he felt as if there was always going to be a stain that had no hope of being removed. Not even time itself would erase the miserable mark completely.

The desolate and barren fields were certainly a change of scenery as he desired but it was by far less inviting and hospitable than Minas Tirith. While he should've held these fields with contempt as he had been slain there, he saw it as a landmark he'd never forget and always have respect for. That respect was for the fact he had been freed there.

He experienced a bit of a reprieve from his torturous thoughts as he traversed this landscape and it was something he treasured at the moment. However, his temporary peace was then cut short as he sensed that he was not alone. Initially, he feared he was going to be experiencing another flashback of his old life but he was rather surprised when he saw something else entirely.

The Witch-king's defenses bristled when he saw a black, cloaked figure with no face approaching him from the east. A low hiss came from his helm and his hands balled up into fists, suspecting that trouble was going to come about. Despite his previous heartache, he sets those heavy feelings aside. He straightened his posture and began to walk towards the apparition, showing that he wasn't going to stand down and that he was going to fight back if this soul was coming in the spirit of ill will.

"What do you want from me?" he questioned as he still strode over to the mysterious visitor. Right away, he had a feeling that it was one of his former comrades. He was somewhat perplexed that one of the other Nazgûl remained behind alongside him but it didn't matter. "If you are coming to me to carry out Sauron's will even in death, leave me! Have I not made myself clear?"

"My friend…" An unmistakable and familiar hiss softly came out from the blackened space. "You still linger here? I had feared for a moment you had passed into the light."

The Witch-king stopped for a moment, recognizing the voice instantly. His stare hardened on the figure of his old comrade, remembering that their last meeting wasn't so friendly and good natured. In fact, this Nazgûl had ordered him to leave and had asserted his newfound dominance over their dark order in advent of the Witch-king's death.

"Khamûl," he addressed. He let out a bitter laugh. "What is this? I thought you would've happily followed Sauron to the other realm!" Slowly, he began to turn away from the other Ringwraith but kept his head turned towards the Black Easterling. "Be gone, I do not wish to speak with you."

Khamûl ignored the words of his former lord and kept approaching him. He was more cautious and his pace slowed as he got closer. To show that he meant no harm or ill will, he raised both of his armored hands, leveling them to his chest in a surrendering gesture.

"Please," he insisted, "I am relieved to see you more than anything else. I was hoping that I would find you."

"And why is that?" the Witch-king questioned. He stopped in his tracks but didn't turn his body back around to face him fully.

"I only wanted to speak with you about one thing." Finally, he halted and tilted his hooded head up. "The memories and feelings…have you been witness to them as well? Have you rejoiced and yet cursed yourself as I have?"

The Witch-king didn't know how to react to the former king of Rhûn's words. Any retort that he had was taken from his mouth, leaving him speechless and unsure of how to reply to him. He hadn't even expected any other Nazgûl to be wandering the earth and he was still trying to process this fact. For a moment, he experienced relief over the fact that Khamûl seemed to be in the exact same position as he was and that he wasn't alone in this predicament. However, he still remained guarded and wondered if there was some other ulterior motive he had in coming to Minas Tirith.

"How did you know where to look?" the Morgul lord asked.

"Because I knew that was where she was," Khamûl responded. "I assumed that wherever the Rohirrim princess was, you'd be there as well."

"I see." He decided to take a chance and place some trust in the Easterling. "Walk with me, Khamûl. We cannot kill each other and die again so I do not believe you will harm me. We have things to discuss."

He ceased to speak and he turned his back on him, giving him a silent, second invitation for Khamûl to join him. The Witch-king began to walk away slowly, his iron crown tilted up to the heavens slightly. While the majority of his attention was arrested by the sight of the moon and the stars, he could still sense that the other wraith was following him.

"Firstly, I must apologize for how I treated you the last time we met in Mordor," the lesser Nazgûl began. "I was not myself."

"The nine of us haven't been ourselves for so long," the Witch-king retorted. "Do not fret, Khamûl. What has been done has been done. We cannot go back through the ages and reverse what has happened. I very much wish that was within my power but it is not."

"You speak with great sorrow and regret on your tongue."

"I was hoping I would not sound so…transparent. Pay no heed to it."

"I will tell you of what I've seen and felt. Will you do the same for me, my king?"

Once more, he began to feel a little defensive and wary of what Khamûl had in mind. Then he reminded himself once more that the other spirit couldn't do anything more to harm him. Not only that, he knew that the man he was speaking to sounded vastly different than to the dark servant who had long served Sauron alongside him. As far as he could tell, there was no deceit in him. Deep inside, he felt that he might possibly gain some sort of closure if he conversed and spoke with him. Perhaps he would find greater courage in confronting Ếowyn and passing on to the Halls.

"You speak of what we've recovered from our long forsaken memories," the Witch-king concluded. "For me, there have been far more evil memories than good ones."

"It appears that as we regain more and more of our humanity, the good and the bad have come back to remind and haunt us," Khamûl said. "I've remembered joyous things." The other Nazgûl could sense the happiness and joy mounting in his companion's voice as he spoke. "I remembered the love of my life… My wife, my queen, my friend… I treasured her more than a dragon could love and desire to protect its hoard. I thought she was more beautiful than the most spectacular golden sunrise over the red sands of Rhûn. She was kinder than the gentlest spring breeze. In my eyes, she was flawless…"

He fell silent as he daydreamed over his long lost queen. While he was overjoyed to have remembered her and enjoy the luxury of recovering his memories of her, more than anything else, he yearned to hold her in his arms. He wished he could tell her how sorry he was and kiss her once more. While he remained happy and light for as long as he dwelt on her, he could feel his eyes beginning to moisten.

"I can tell how much she meant to you," the other phantom said. He was secretly envious that Khamûl was having these pleasant memories being brought to light. "You speak of her with such admiration and affection. You sound as if you've fallen in love with her only moments ago."

"I am ashamed that I had failed to remember her lovely face while I was enslaved," Khamûl noted. "I curse Sauron for stripping me of my memories… But I am only happy I got to remember her at long last. It is better to have remembered her later than never. I stayed married to her for many years. We had many sons and daughters together. We were so happy together… There is no other woman in all of Arda who could sway me away from her and make me forsake her. She stayed by my side even after I took my ring. I remember she hated it and she scolded me for wearing it but she still remained by my side. Even though my greed and my refusal to take it off placed strain between us, she did not waver. Eventually, she died at a ripe, honorable, old age while I remained young… I was a fool but ever since I remembered her, I've begged for her to forgive me. I can only hope that she will pardon me but I believe she has. She was always so merciful, gentle and pure."

"I am happy that out of the two of us, you have remembered your beloved wife. I do not remember my love. Perhaps I don't wish to remember her because of what else I have seen in my original life. I fear that if I did remember her, I would become further heartbroken."

The former lord of Angmar felt utterly wretched for hoping his wife would remain elusive to him but he could only take so much heartache at once. It was already a heavy burden for him to bear the knowledge his two children died at his own hands and influence. Perhaps one day he would remember his bride but for now, her face and her name remained lost like most of his other memories. Whatever the case, he was only sure that he would most likely never be reunited with her.

"That is truly a sad and loathsome thing to say," the Easterling said. There was obvious disappointment in his tone. "I am sorry for you, my friend. If I may, what do you remember from your past?"

The Witch-king hesitated. He didn't wish to bring up the matter to Khamûl but he deemed it would be unfair if he didn't confide anything to him. Obviously, the matter of the Easterling's wife was a near and dear subject to him and he shamelessly told him of their story. He saw he would have to muster up his strength and divulge his respective recollections to him.

"I remember I lived by the sea and I had a comely garden…" he started out slowly and cautiously. "I remember whispering I couldn't discern and light laughter. Yet most of all, I remember my two children. My Rhoneya and Nilihir… I know that I loved them dearly but they died." He paused and fought back his tears. "They died by my hand."

Khamûl nearly stopped in his invisible footprints when he heard his former lord unveil that information to him. It caught him completely off guard and he didn't know how to reply to that reveal. Then he reminded himself that it was most likely his ring that had caused him to do such a thing. He recalled that his ring altered his personality over time as well and it had the same effect on the other eight men. Regardless, it still came as a shock to Khamûl and he could clearly hear the sorrow and woe in the Witch-king's voice over this.

"I-I am sorry to hear of this heavy misfortune…" he said. "Truly, I am… I only recall foggy bits of my memories of my children but I could sense the love I had for them. Eventually, I will gain full recollection and I am hopeful you will receive a happy reprieve as well."

"Happiness has evaded me," the other grimly noted. "Even the love I felt for the shieldmaiden seems to have utterly fled from me because I am so mired in my sorrows. I was a monster, Khamûl, and I fear that I may still be one."

"We were all monsters when he ensnared us, my friend. Our minds were not our own and we had been utterly drunk off his influence and evil. However, our deaths proved to be our liberation and we awoke from that infernal nightmare. You are much too hard on yourself and perhaps that is why happy things remain elusive to you."

"You did not murder your child when she tried to take your ring from you to save you from its power!" The Witch-king snarled at him and a hiss emitted from his helmet. "My second child then killed himself whenever I murdered his sister in my rage! I have a reason to shun the light and desire to postpone my judgment. I know I will receive no mercy for what I've done and you ought to be as fearful as I am…" He paused for a moment as a thought occurred to him. He also desired to change the subject so he wouldn't show further weakness to him. "Why do you linger? Are there more of us who also stay behind?"

Khamûl truly felt pity for his comrade and he could clearly sense the distress and grief he was emitting. It was almost oppressive and choking and it made him worry about him. A part of him feared that if he remained this negative and depressed over this matter, he might never cross over and he would forever wander Arda alone and in shame. That was a fate he believed he wasn't deserving of and he truly did believe that perhaps there was some hope for the both of them. The Easterling was confident that some mercy would be granted to them both if they were truly as repentant as they professed that they were.

"There was another one of our brotherhood who also resisted the call," Khamûl explained. "I remember it clearly. He was frightened and he ran off, running away from the light, claiming how he didn't have the courage to face up to his crimes. He sounded so much like a lost child; so scared, despondent and devoid of hope and optimism. I tried to convince to take courage and have heart and instead rejoice in his freedom but he would have none of it. I haven't seen him since and I wonder what became of him. My guess is that he is wandering the world and trying to come to terms with things. Eventually, I hope that he will accept things and move on. The others succumbed and went into it. Three of them were so exuberant and overjoyed to finally be released from this world that they ran into it and didn't look back. The remainders lingered and hesitated for a few moments before they eventually went in."

The Witch-king at first was a bit surprised by this information. He had thought that the others might be as hesitant and reluctant as he was but he wasn't expecting some of them to be so welcoming and eager to pass on. He also felt pity for this other comrade who was so vocal and afraid of his fate and he could only wish that he would soon pass on to the Halls and hope the Valar would grant him some mercy for his past servitude.

"Why do you remain here though?" he pressed. "I assumed that perhaps you would be all too eager to go on and possibly see your wife once more."

"I stayed behind for now because I wanted to remember what I could," Khamûl answered. "I also wanted to speak with you one final time before I could pass on. I knew you were at Minas Tirith but I wanted to wait awhile. I also wanted to see some more of this beautiful land one more time before I would depart. I never got to fully appreciate all the scenery and wilderness while we were in Sauron's employ."

"Your reasons seem so pure and selfless while mine seem so cowardly and selfish." He sighed heavily. "I'm sure you were once a good and mighty king when you ruled your realm. I'm certain you were beloved and praised. I take it that you accepted your ring for benevolent reasons as well?"

When he had uttered his latter sentence, the Witch-king could sense a marked change in his companion's aura. He could feel that Khamûl suddenly seemed not so bright and optimistic and he became a little withdrawn and yet nostalgic as he was most likely reflecting on that memory. For a moment, he regretted bringing it up as he didn't want to dampen his spirits and drag him down to his own morose, melancholic level and mindset.

"That's something I'd choose to forget but I remembered that as well," he noted quietly. "He made me an offer he couldn't refuse. He was a clever, charming, snake who had a way with words and it was too irresistible. Yes, I took it for the betterment of my family and my people. I took it with a good and pure heart but it turned into something else completely unrecognizable. I changed… I lived for a long time but I withered and grew distant from my family. Eventually, I faded into shadow and I remember Sauron and some of the others came for me." His turned his empty hood to face his friend. "I also remember you were the last to join us, Witch-king. Sauron was surprised by your will and strength but you were the last to succumb out of all of us and I think it actually made him angered that you resisted for so long."

To hear that was yet another thing that he hadn't expected. He recalled that Sauron said that when he arrived to claim him and ferry him away into his servitude, he was in a pitiable and pathetic state but he chose to not dwell on it. He had managed to battle against the ring for so long but in the end, he was only a man that had lost himself to its insidious, seductive snares. There was a hint of pride that he felt with that knowledge but he was still ashamed for even taking the ring.

"I took the ring also for those reasons," the Witch-king admitted. "All I wanted was for my family and people to prosper and be secure. That was it. I never wanted anything else out of such a thing. And yes, I must say he had a way with words. They were like the smoothest and sweetest honey… how could any of us say no to his words and wiles? We were all fools."

"Indeed we were," the fellow former king admitted. "We paid for it but now we've been freed from our bonds. Now that I have seen what I wanted in this world over these past days and I have talked with you, I believe I am ready to move on. My friend, why don't you join me? We will go to the Halls together and perhaps it will give you some hope and instill some joy into your being."

"Nay, I am not ready…"

"You are still attached to the princess. I feel that is another thing that binds you to this realm."

"Yes. I have resolved to confront her eventually but I am still unsure of how to proceed and what to say. I still must clear my mind of these troubling and bothersome thoughts and I fear that must be cured by more time. I can only hope happier memories come to me and that will give me greater motivation to cross over."

"I know it is hard but you must try to come to terms with the things you remember and accept that they cannot be undone or changed. I know they are very painful and I fully understand your agony but you cannot remain wandering this land forever. You were a slave to Sauron and you cannot be a slave to your own suffering and sadness as well."

"I fear what I may be given as my punishment. I've done great evil and you've done plenty as well, Khamûl. Are you ignorant of what awaits us?"

The black clad phantom stopped in his tracks and gazed at his crowned companion. His gaze seemed to intensify for a moment and the Witch-king half expected him to say something in defense of his words. Instead, he continued to remain quiet for a few moments but he gave off no tense or angered aura.

"Do you regret what you've done?" he countered with a question of his own. "Do you express guilt and shame for being deceived and lured in by that snake?"

"Of course I do!" the other man answered.

"Then I think we will be given mercy. You must understand that we were tricked. We took those rings with good intentions and none other ulterior, sinister motives in mind. Some of the fault is our own and we can't deny that but we were tainted and tricked. Our minds and actions were not our own when we were aligned with Sauron. Our true selves had been locked away in the darkness for so long until our deaths freed us. I believe the heavenly hosts will grant us mercy for our regrets. I know that I was a good man and I can feel that you are too, my friend. The Void isn't meant for us."

Now he found himself truly envying Khamûl. He wished that he had the same amount of optimism, hope and confidence that he had. If he had those traits currently, then he would've communed with Ếowyn already and most likely passed on after his conscious was clear and his business was finally done. The Witch-king became angered at himself for feeling this way but he couldn't help it. Though his memory was still unclear and had yet to fully be unlocked, he hoped that perhaps he and the Easterling king had known each other at one point before their fall. He hoped that they were once friends in their previous lives.

He could also feel that talking about his inner thoughts and concerns brought him some closure and he felt lucky that he managed to cross paths with him. His bright perspective had unknowingly reintroduced some bravery in himself and he could feel himself feeling a bit more uplifted. His guilt would still remain and he knew it always would but he knew that Khamûl was most certainly correct about some of the things he said. The Witch-king was still unsure whether the judges would grant him and his brothers in arms mercy but he knew for a fact that he did show and feel remorse for his past transgressions.

"Please, do not despair," Khamûl continued. "It is unbecoming of us. We cannot afford to be cowards. Peace is awaiting us I believe. I want that peace so much and I want to see my family again. However, I think that perhaps I will try to find our wayward compatriot and talk to him as well. We are the only three out of the Nazgûl who are still here and I want us all to be off."

"I agree," the Witch-king said as he nodded his head. "We certainly don't belong here anymore and we must depart as the new age is ushered in." He took a deep sigh and straightened his posture as he attempted to regain some confidence and composure. "I thank you dearly and deeply. I at first wanted to shun you when I saw you but your words and presence have proven to be a most welcome blessing I was in dire need of. I will try to become like you in your outlook and see if that positivity will grant me happy memories as well. I also wish you luck and I hope you find our comrade and he is swayed by your words."

"You are most welcome, my friend. I am happy I could do that small favor for you. Now, I expect to see you at some point. You must understand you will have to answer to me if I have to wait another four thousand years to see you." A light chuckle came from Khamûl that sounded much like a gentle hiss. "It feels wonderful to feel alive again, doesn't it? It is ironic."

"Lady Ếowyn made me feel alive and for that, I am eternally grateful to her. It has been a blessing yet a curse to learn that the dead can still feel hurt and yet feel so many other things as well. It is obvious she cannot and will not return the love to me but I am alright with this Also, you do not need to worry, I will be sure to see you again at some point, Khamûl. If we can carry on our friendship in the afterlife, then I will do so."

The lord of Rhûn held his hand out to his friend, offering it to him. Once he saw the Witch-king extend his hand in turn, Khamûl grasped it and pulled himself forward, making their touches chest. Then he set his remaining hand on his back and patted his shoulder blade heartilt. He could tell the Black Captain was a little surprised by this embrace and he laughed softly at the reaction he got. Slowly, he could feel the Witch-king return the affection by setting his other hand on his shoulder as well.

After remaining like that for a few moments, Khamûl broke away from him. The other man released him and the two looked back at each other, eager to see if one would say anything else.

"Have faith," Khamûl said as he nodded his hooded head. "I wish you luck. I also pray you receive nothing but happy memories as you remember more and I look forward to seeing you again."

"Thank you," the Witch-king said. A small yet unmistakable smile was on his invisible face. "Good luck in the Halls and I wish you have all the prosperity, peace and happiness in the next life."

He watched as the other recent Nazgûl turned and started to slowly walk off. A gentle breeze filled the air and as it blew, he witnessed as Khamûl's immaterial shape slowly dissolved into nothingness and was carried off by the wind.