His Corrupted Heart (Witch-King x OC) : VII

Chapter VII: How A Friendship Began

"Don't walk behind me; I may not lead. Don't walk in front of me; I may not follow. Just walk beside me and be my friend." -Albert Camus

Two Days Later…

Finally Inconnu had discovered better hunting grounds.

She had thought that they would come upon something like this much sooner, but the Huntress of the North had underestimated the power and reach of the darkness that the High Fells of Rhudaur possessed. Inconnu was currently crouched, hidden by the dead foliage and concealed by her grey Elven cloak. She smiled as she remembered the gifts of Galadriel and Haldir before she left their forests, but as Inconnu remembered Oromë's gift of Ghost's Song her smile faded slightly.

Still she remembered the vision it gave her, obviously of a time long past and, as her intuition told her, from the last days of Arnor. Inconnu also still had the feeling, which her Patron confirmed, that there was no happy history to the blade. A past that the Great Hunter would not tell her, leaving it to Er-Murazor and she understood as well as accepted it. Inconnu's smile widened again at thinking of the Ringwraith by his name rather than the title he was most commonly known as.

Thinking of him still, Er-Murazor had calmed considerably in demeanor ever since she had returned his blade to him. It seemed like he took her gesture of trust to heart, at least what revealing to be one, and in his own way he was extending his own trust to her. Er-Murazor had not made any explicit show of it, but Inconnu understood the reasoning behind his most recent interactions with her. He seemed more kind in word, no longer biting at them though was brief with them.

Well, Inconnu then smirked to herself, as long as one does not strike at his pride too hard.

Inconnu was certain that even though he was returning to his old self little by little, day by day, his pride has always been a part of who he was. She accepted it though, knowing that she too had her own flaws in character, there was no reason to be ashamed of the fact. The best thing one could do was acknowledge their flaws and work to be better than that, lest they be consumed by the definition of those traits. Inconnu's attention strayed when she heard the snap of a nearby twig and notched an arrow in her bowstring.

It was a trap she had set up, spreading thin and weak twigs around her, providing an early warning system for anything that would enter the range of her longbow. With keen eyes that could only belong to a hunter, Inconnu scanned the area and in the distance saw a fat rabbit. It was standing at attention, long ears standing just as straight as its body as it too looked around the area for the threat it sensed. Inconnu softly sighed in relief, glad that her future meal didn't immediately run off when it snapped the twig under its large hind feet.

She drew back the string and raised the bow up just enough for a clear shot at her prey, all the while completely silent. One of the first lessons Inconnu had ever learned in her first years as the Huntress of the North was to respect the Hunt, no matter how big or small. It was a game perfected as an art by only very few, and Inconnu was proud to name herself as one of those individuals. This was displayed as she waited patiently for that singular moment in which the timing was right, for when she would release her readied arrow and claim another successful hunt.

That very moment arrived quickly.

Inconnu released her arrow.

She listened to the shaft's faint whistling as it soared through the air and the dull thump of the rabbit's body falling to the forest floor. Inconnu carefully stood from her hiding spot and looked around again for any potential thieves of her meal before walking from where she stood to claim her prize. She inspected her fallen prey, crouching down once again to better see her shot. The arrow had gone straight through the heart. A perfect shot and the quality Inconnu had come to expect from her Hunts. Inconnu gave a short whisper of thanks for her success in the Hunt before carefully removing the arrow from the rabbit's chest.

She tied its hind feet together and slung it over her shoulder for an easier carry, but not before her bow was secured across her back. Once ready, Inconnu headed southwest to where she had left the Witch-King and Sverundr in a suitable clearing to rest and recover where Inconnu knew that their small company could rest away from the foul influence of the Nazgûl Tomb. Not too many minutes passed before Inconnu came across an odd and worrying sight.

Several trees in front of her bore terrible lacerations, cutting deep into their bark. One looked so deep that the young tree was held up by its upper branches by the ones of the older trees, like a wounded comrade and his fellows weren't going to give up on him yet. Immediately Inconnu though this to be the work of more than one Dire Wolf, perhaps two or three judging by the damage, but she could not confirm this because of one crucial detail.

There were no tracks, none for as far as Inconnu could see.

Inconnu knew that no creature she could think of could create such damage yet leave no other evidence of its presence. It simply couldn't be done, and she ruled out natural phenomenon because no snow storms had come through recently and the winds hadn't been as harsh lately. And besides, Inconnu could easily tell that these long claw marks were done more or less an hour ago. Very fresh indeed.

Inconnu shivered, once again feeling like she was being hunted. As the Huntress of the North, she certainly did not like this particular feeling. Another slight shudder down her spine before Inconnu noted the slashes securely in her mind before again making her way to where Er-Murazor and Sverundr were. It didn't take her too long, about half an hour passing before she heard Sverundr's usual snorts. However, what was different was that she also heard faint cursing that was barely audible. Inconnu smiled softly to herself, having a very good idea as to what was happening just beyond her vision.

She stuck to the shadows a little when she entered the clearing, staying just out of sight and observing the Witch-King trying to approach Sverundr. His demeanor made it obvious that he was very frustrated by Sverundr's antics, but Inconnu could tell that Er-Murazor meant well towards the large stallion. Mostly, for that was being countered by his growing frustrations. Sverundr, on the other hand, seemed to be enjoying thwarting the Ringwraith's attempts to touch him. The grey stallion kept dodging Er-Murazor's cold gauntlet at the last moment, dancing out of the way and followed by more cursing from the Witch-King.

Inconnu chuckled, alerting both males to her presence. Sverundr whinnied and was quickly at her side, urging her to pet him. She complied and rubbed his nose while looking at the Witch-King, who was standing with the demeanor of someone who's rather indignant at the moment. His tone when he spoke to her was utterly flat and his words plainly stated.

"He does not favor my presence."

Inconnu gave a single nod and said, "That's because he doesn't trust you like he does me. He has few reasons to do so as well."

"That makes him out to be intelligent then?"

"It does," Inconnu confirmed. "As well as his reasoning. Sverundr is not easily fooled by façades and can see the truth of those around him. Concerning you he sees only a Nazgûl, a rather powerful one and with me, a powerful friend he wants to protect."

Er-Murazor cocked his head slightly to the left before asking, "That stallion wants to protect a powerful friend? Is that not backwards logic?"

"Not really, as Sverundr wasn't always the one doing the protecting. It's different now, but back then I protected him quite a bit and these days him protecting me is his way of repaying me and proving that he still wishes to be my friend."

There was a moment of silence between them, nothing of any particular feeling and Inconnu could sense that the Witch-King was thinking something over in his mind. Inconnu continued to indulge Sverundr with his need for her affectionate petting until the Witch-King finally spoke his conclusion aloud.

"Sverundr is no normal stallion."

"He is one of the Meara," Inconnu confirmed. "Sverundr isn't too unlike Shadowfax, almost like his northern counterpart, and also unlike Shadowfax…" Inconnu paused to then comb her fingers through Sverundr's thick mane, and the stallion didn't seem to mind about the two of them talking about him. "Sverundr is much more clingy when it comes to myself."

Er-Murazor took this information in, having known ever since their first meeting in the besieged city of Osgiliath that Sverundr was something else, possessing a power and intelligence not fully shared by other horses. The only thing that had been remarkable about his own black steed was its patience and ability to remain calm even in the presence of the Nine. Remembering his mount, particularly its fate, the Witch-King cringed internally. Without his horse he would not be able to travel anywhere quickly, and the easiest solution to this was if he and Inconnu were to both ride Sverundr. The stallion was certainly large enough due to his Draft heritage.

That was what he had been attempting to do before Inconnu had returned from her hunt, to see if he could indeed ride Sverundr. The results of those tries spoke for themselves.

"How did Sverundr become your companion Inconnu?" He suddenly asked her, and its suddenness took her aback slightly but she replied just the same.

"I have had a few horses before I stopped riding altogether, as I quickly learned that normal horses don't live long due to what I typically hunt in the far northern reaches. It had only been a few months after the death of my last horse and I was hiking it on foot through some rather difficult terrain…"

Inconnu pulled her scarf over her nose again, the winds not as cold due to current summertime season, but some days the winds seemed to forget that and retained a harsh sting still. Her grey eyes widened as she again began to slip down the mountainside. Inconnu's hands instantly grabbed for any nearby hand holds and eventually she stopped slipping. Breathing rugged and trying to calm her racing heart, Inconnu managed to sigh faintly. Progress was difficult, gaining ground before being forced back for most of that very ground.

She looked up at her destination, only a couple of yards away, so tantalizingly close and to Inconnu it almost seemed to mock her with its proximity. Inconnu looked down at her hands and feet, then back at top of where she knew more level ground awaited her. Waiting seemed to be the best option, and she decided to see if she could time to bursts of wind that kept pushing her down and keeping her from fully conquering the harsh terrain. A burst hit her and Inconnu held on to the grips she had until it passed.

She waited again until another hit her, then a third, and when the third one did she leaped for the top and grabbed on with all her strength.

However no one Man, Elf, or Dwarf could truly predict the whims of nature, and so Inconnu was hit by another burst of the cruel winds. She had no time to get a true grip on the ledge and thus no real defense against those very winds. What she did not expect was to suddenly feel something latch onto her left sleeve of her coat and tug her back towards the ledge. Taking advantage of the situation, Inconnu swung her other hand to the ledge and gripped onto it along with her left one. She didn't look up until the burst had passed, and when she did Inconnu was in for quite the surprise.

What was grabbing onto her coat sleeve, or rather biting it, was a young colt.

Inconnu lifted herself into the flat terrain, releasing a relieved sigh before being almost tackled to the ground by the colt. She managed to remain sitting upright and automatically responded to the colt's nudges for affection. Inconnu's grey gaze looked him over as she petted him, noting his large size and Draft breed, grey coloring with a few white markings and short mane and tail that surely would become longer and thicker as he got older.

Looking around briefly with keen eyes, Inconnu could not discern where the colt could possibly have come from. It was obvious that the grey colt recognized her, but Inconnu had never seen this colt before in her life. Speaking of whom, the colt looked up at her and Inconnu stared into his deep brown eyes. There was so much heart in them, completely honest and also filled with adoration for her. Inconnu sighed internally and rubbed the colt's nose affectionately, to which the colt snorted lightly before nudging her hand for more.

She seemed to have a new horse now, or at least in a year or two she would.

"It took me a week to decide on what name to give him, but once I was familiar with his personality I named him 'Sverundr', meaning 'Wild Hearted' in a somewhat lost dialect of Dwarvish."

"'Somewhat lost dialect'?" Er-Murazor questioned with a slight tone of doubt. Inconnu simply smiled a little.

"I knew enough to name him didn't I?"

The Witch-King conceded to her words with a faint nod of his dark hood, then it seemed he then looked at something else and said, "Your dinner I assume?"

Inconnu remembered the rabbit slung over her shoulder and she nodded. Pushing Sverundr away slightly, much to the large stallion's dismay but Sverundr then moved on to graze the wild grasses in the clearing, and Inconnu walked over to the center of the clearing to breathe life back into the campfire she had made the night before. Food was very much on her mind now as the afternoon drew later and later. The Witch-King silently sat himself on the ground again to lean against a convenient log, wanting to rest his what was considered to be his physical form. Though he certainly felt better and the pain having apparently vanished from his form, he still felt a deep exhaustion sometimes.

The clearing soon fell into a comfortable silence, each companion doing their own thing and that suited them just fine.