Seven

Luxuria

So cold, so fair...Like moonlight over a midnight meadow, so frail. He was watching her, seeing her move across the great hall, her back straight and her long golden locks falling freely down her back. He swallowed, hiding in the shadows, not wanting to be seen. So beautiful, how far above him. But not forever, no, she would be his.

It was a promise, and he was doing all that he could to please his master. He would be able to pick whoever he wanted, and he wanted her. How he coveted her, how his mind was tormented by her cold glares and her openly shown disgust when he was near. He tried to soften her up, he tried to say the right words, do the right things. It didn't work, she hated him.

He was thinking about her every night when he took himself in hand, how he wished that he was one of the riders of the mark, tall and fair and handsome. He would stalk her from the shadows, watch her every step, following her like a pack of wolves hungrily stalks a wounded deer.

But he was nothing like the riders though, his only weapon was his mind and the powers his master had given him, but once he too had been a man of Rohan, he had had his pride, his honor. Now even that was taken away from him and he was naught but a pawn, a slave, crawling on the floor, begging for scraps from his master. But it would change, he would do all that he could to make sure that he pleased his master.

And then she would be his, then she would be his bride, willingly or not. He would have her, he would take her and then she would see that he was no worm, no snake. Yes, she would learn to respect him and one day perhaps even love him. He saw her trying to speak to her uncle but he didn't respond and he felt his lips stretch into a narrow grin. She was alone, soon she would be all alone, he was making sure that her protectors were being removed one by one. The king himself would be the last one. And then, then he would claim his prize, his cold beautiful shieldmaiden, his Eowyn.