The Tenth Ringwraith: a Sauron x Bilbo

Witches

The undercover agent of Mordor was being much more successful than planned.

To the soldiers milling about the camp training and keeping watch over Minas Morgul, waiting for the upcoming battle, a woman cleaning pots was invisible.

Her teal eyes were currently on the not quite Princess of Rohan, literally in this moment and not just figuratively, observing as she was arguing with her brother about the fact that she could help fight and not just act as nurse for the wounded.

"The only women who fight are witches!" Éomer insisted, "You call yourself shieldmaiden but you are not ready for battle in truth, I will not see you dead for trying to do a man's work."

The blonde recoiled as if slapped, grey eyes brimming with tears -though not shedding them, keeping them from falling-, and stormed off.

Éomer made move to stop her from doing so, but stopped at the last moment, instead going back to the commander's tent.

Hiding a smile, the king disguised as pauper drew the attention of the other woman, wiping her tears away with gentle fingers.

"What happened?" The black haired woman asked, pretending to not have overheard

"It is nothing." Éowyn denied, "Thank you for the concern."

"It is not nothing, I saw your brother yelling at you." She admitted

"He is just protective of me." The younger defended

The olive skinned woman gave small hum, not quite agreeal but understanding, "I have six brothers, two sisters as well, family can often be a great comfort. But there is no shame in admitting when your family is wrong."

"He called me a witch." Éowyn whispered, saying it more to herself than 'Zimra'

Míriel tilted Éowyn's head towards her own, "Do not say 'witch' as if it were a curse for males to brand you with. A witch is but a Woman In Total Control of Herself and there is nothing males fear more."

Something seemed to click in the blonde's eyes, her gaze becoming narrower as a realization came to her.

Sapthân, the Ring that formerly rested on Isildur's finger, was practically singing in Míriel's pocket.

***

Hours later, as darkness settled over Middle Earth and dinner was had, something unexpected came and put a wrench in the Witch King's carefully laid plans.

Not enough to derail them, of course, but enough to cause issues.

The elves of Lothlórien arrived, led by Lady Galadriel and her lord husband.

And 'Zimra', dispite trying to blend into the shadows, was noticed by said Elvenqueen.

"Impossible." The Lady of Light muttered as she passed by on her horse

She stopped, her people stopping behind her in perfect sync as elves tended to.

"What has happened to you, Tar-Míriel daughter of Tar-Palantir, you were said to have drowned with your nation." Galadriel inquired, all eyes upon them

"What happened to me, Lady Galadriel? What happened to me is that you never kept your promise. The elves never came back to Númenor no matter how much I prayed and prayed." The woman in question announced, knowing her ruse was destroyed, "None of the gods were listening, not one, except the one that hated my husband almost as much as I did. You did not come back. My birth right was stolen from me and I was raped and abused by my cousin and made a mockery of in my own court. No one helped me except my Lord and for that he has earned my loyalty. Númenor was a worthy sacrifice for my happiness, it did not love me as I loved it. The Queen of Númenor died, drowned and forgotten; the Witch King of Angmar emerged from the waves victorious."

Her patchwork dress darked into a solid black robe, a cloak of the same shade appearing around her form with the hood drawn to hide her face; a steel gauntlet appeared on both arms, sabatons and greaves on her legs and feet and pauldrons on her shoulders and finally was the Witch King's signature spiked helmet.

But she made no move to attack nor escape, instead the Lord of the Nazgûl turned to look at Éowyn, "I offer you the same choice that was made to me."

The golden haired woman looked at her brother and uncle standing by the True King of Gondor's side and then back to the wraith, eventually taking her offered hand.

"ÉOWYN NO!" Éomer shouted, drawing his sword and rushing towards them
By time he reached them it was too late, the Witch King and Éowyn were gone in a flurry of green and black mist heading back towards Minas Morgul.

***

Éowyn's heart was racing as they landed in the grand courtyard of Minas Morgul, her heart in conflict with itself over familial loyalty she had abandoned in sake of finally tending to her own dreams of warrior-hood.

The armies of the so called Good would not let her fight due to her gender claiming that it made her weak, but the Dark Lord's second-in-command and head general -who was regarded as his most deadly servant- was a woman.

"I am very glad you decided to join us," Míriel began, offering her the Ninth Ring, "sister."

Every instinct in the woman told her that she should not take it, that it would undo her utterly, but oh how it sang to her.

"Surely it cannot be that bad." She thought as she took the amber topped ring from the other woman's palm

The ring slipped onto her finger easily, more easily than it probably should have and perhaps in another lifetime she would have refused it or slew the leader of the Nine before the offer could have been made.

But no one who had ever been presented with one of the Nine Rings had ever been able to refuse them, there had always been a bit of darkness in their hearts before their Lord's influence came.

The gold of the ring was cold on her skin but the amber stone was warm as it began to glow orange, the same happening to her eyes -and miles away in Barad-dûr, the same happened to the Dark Lord's.

Éowyn gasped as she felt the iciness of the ring begin to spread along her skin, encasing her in chill, freezing her heart.

She felt another presence in her mind, powerful and commanding, along with the overwhelming desire to obey that presence's every desire for his Will was absolute.

Her green wool dress darkened to black and the material shifted to linen to not weigh her down, a hooded black cloak appeared clasped around her neck with the hood already drawn.

"It seems the master has accepted you." Míriel commented, "You must be swift to go to him, none of us can accompany you with the battle so close, but you will find that you know the way."

The new wraith nodded and went to the stables, taking a black horse deeper into the ashen kingdom.