“She sure likes that spot,” whispered one guardsman of the Citadel to another.

“It's a great view,” replied his comrade.

“I know, but how long can one marvel at the same vista, no matter how breathtaking?” he replied.  “She is there every day!”

Seven hundred feet above the gates of Minas Tirith, upon the great promontory of stone which cut Minas Tirith in half, Elerína stood gazing at the horizon.  Her flowing dark hair danced in the mountain wind. A short wall of white stone provided a railing on either side of the rocky spur but at the tip where she stood nothing blocked her path.  One more step and she would land in the middle of the first courtyard of the city.

Unbeknownst to the guardsmen she was not admiring the view.  Her eyes could see far beyond the sight of mortal men. Gazing north-easterly she watched a great battle unfolding as the orcs and trolls of Mordor drove the Gondorian garrison at the Black Gate into full retreat.  It would have been a slaughter save for the heroics of their rearguard - and one warrior in particular. Upon the dusty fields of the Morannon orc after orc and troll after troll fell to Thorongil’s fiery blade and icy spear.

“M’lady...” began Amdirien, Aragorn’s eldest daughter.

“Not now, child!” snapped the maia.

Amdirien took a seat on a marble bench some fifteen feet behind Elerína.  After twenty minutes the denizens of Mordor gave up their chase and the Gondorian survivors, with Thorongil in tow, looked to be safe.

Elerína rubbed her eyes and stepped back from the edge.  Exhausted by her efforts, she stumbled and nearly fell as she made her way to sit beside the Princess.

“What do you need?” she asked in a labored voice.

“Are you alright?” inquired her friend.

“I’ll be fine,” said Elerína.  Amdirien looked skeptical.

“You look like you need food and water,” suggested the Princess.  Elerína nodded and they walked back towards the palace.

“What did you see?” asked Amdirien.

“A battle to the north,” she replied.

“Is Thorongil alright?”

“How did you know…”

“It's the only explanation for how cross you were when I interrupted you,” noted the Princess.

“He's fine,” Elerína replied, offering no apology to the princess.

“Do you think he and Anders will return soon?” inquired Amdirien.

“I hope so,” sighed Elerína, before shaking her head.  “But no, I don't think they will be back anytime soon.”

“Perhaps we could visit them!” suggested Amdirien excitedly.  “A royal visit to the front might lift the men’s spirits, and yours too!  My brother is always going on trips like that...”

“Your brother is a soldier!”

“I'm not suggesting we actually go into battle…”

Elerína nodded.  “If your father approves, I will take you.”

Aragorn was amicable to the idea.  Amdirien was second in line for the crown of Gondor and Aragorn desired that she be comfortable around the army.  Given the gravity of the loss of the Black Gate he decided to send Aderthon, his nephew and an excellent field commander, to take charge of the defense of Cair Andros.

A level below the Citadel Mirumor sat in the library of Minas Tirith studying tomes on the Rings of Power.  She was getting nowhere. She was about to leave when a mysterious stranger sat in the chair beside hers. He was tall and handsome and elegantly dressed.

“You won't find anything useful about that ring here,” he said.

“What?” asked Mirumor startled.

“That ring you stole from Barad-dûr,” he repeated.  “You won't find anything useful in these books.”

“How do you know…” Mirumor began.

“About the ring?” interrupted the stranger.  “Such things have been my favorite pursuit. As for you, it is obvious where you must have gotten it.”

“Well perhaps you can help me unlock its secrets?” suggested the sorceress.

The stranger nodded.  “Not here. Come, let us speak in private.”

He led Mirumor to a small room deep in the bowels of the library.  It was little more than a secluded closet with a chair and a side table where one could read in peace.  The stranger took a seat and got quickly to his point.

“What do you want from that ring?” he asked.

“Power, knowledge, immortality…” replied Mirumor.  “I don't know what it can do, but I intend to find out.”

“It can't do anything anymore,” said the stranger.  “Its power was tied to The One, and you can do nothing to restore it.”

“You sound awfully certain about that.”

“I am, and it is too dangerous to allow you to carry it about.”

“I thought you said it was powerless!”

“I said you can do nothing to restore it.  Perhaps others with more power could.”

Mirumor had heard enough.  She turned to leave but a woman stood in the door frame.  She was tall, slender, and seductively dressed. Her bloodshot eyes betrayed a hunger which unsettled the sorceress - a woman accustomed to dealing with the unsettling.

“What is this?” asked Mirumor incredulously, turning to face the man once again.

“You are not leaving with that ring,” he said calmly.

“You have no more right to it than I do!” protested Mirumir.  “And you know nothing of what I might be capable of!”

She had hardly finished speaking when the stranger stood up, growing in stature before her eyes.  She stumbled back but with one step he grabbed her by the neck with his right hand. His skin burned away, leaving a charred surface black as volcanic flow covered in a network of cracks through which fire seeped.  She tried to scream but in his clutch she couldn't breath. As he pulled her face close to his she saw his eyes. They were ringed with dancing flame yet in the center as deep and dark as the Doors of Night.

He spoke calmly in a deep voice.  “I know exactly what you are capable of - nothing of consequence.”

She tried what sorcery she knew but she could do nothing to escape.  She was a far cry from the power of the great mortal sorcerers of old - The Witch King, The Mouth, The Black Hand.  Just when she thought he was going to let her die he loosened his grip just enough to allow her a breath before he continued.

“As for the ring, I have more right to it than anyone, although in your present condition what matters is that if you don't give it to me immediately I will kill you here and now.”

Mirumor tore the ring from her finger and threw it into her captor’s outstretched hand.

“A wise decision!” he mocked.  “I am sure I don't need tell you that if you tell anyone what you have seen here, death will be the least of your concerns.”

Mirumor tried to nod.

“Good,” he replied, easily tossing her into a corner of the room.  As she stumbled to her feet, wheezing and coughing, she looked up and saw the stranger looking just as had when she first met him.  She might have thought it had been some clever illusion if her neck didn't hurt so badly.

“What are you?” she stammered.

“Exactly what you have always wanted to find,” he laughed.  “But right now you should be much more concerned with what she is.”

The other woman locked the only door to the room and smiled with bared teeth - or more accurately, fangs.

When Mirumor awoke the next morning in the alley behind the library she thought at first it had been a bad dream.  As soon as she tried to move and felt the pain in her neck, both from the monster’s grip and the vampire’s bite, she knew for certain it had been real.  If she needed any more proof, her ring was gone.

“Stay in Umbar, be a priestess of Morgoth, it's an easy life,” she muttered to herself, recalling her mother's advice.  “But no; I had to go treasure hunting.”

“You have spent your entire life grasping blindly at the darkness and at your first glimpse of real power you want to run home?” mocked a voice from the shadows.

Mirumor jumped back from the voice and tripped on a loose paving-stone.  Thuringwethil the vampire laughed as she stepped into the light.

Mirumor lay back on the stone ground, exasperated.  “Here for seconds?”

The vampire walked over to Mirumor and offered her a hand.