Sorry it's been such a long time since I posted the first chapter. I finished this story some time ago, but just never got around posting it. You might want to go back to the previous chapter to brush up the plot though.

Thanks to ziggy3 and WatsonandMary4ever for reviewing!

Ever since Sauron contacted him, the Lord of the Nazgûl was very disturbed. He was confused by it, for it was a long time since he felt any kind of emotion or was disturbed like this. Why should this news bother him this much? And why does the land of Númenor sound so familiar? Now for the first time since falling into shadow, the Lord of the Nazgûl finally began to wonder about this strange occurrence. In fact, it was so strange that he couldn't help but to wonder about it. His previous state of mindlessness became history as he thought.

What does this mean? He thought as he sat again his study, pouring over one of the thick leather bound books. There were at least tens of them on the bookshelves, arranged neatly by date. The majority of them concerned the history of Númenor, Arnor and Gondor, with smaller entries recording the histories of Rohan, Harad and Rhûn.

Where is Númenor?

Why do I feel closely connected to that place?

Why I disturbed by the fact that Sauron is going there?

He decided that he liked thinking like this now that he had experienced it himself. It gave him something to do apart from carrying out Sauron's orders and leading the Nazgûl. Thinking was also something he felt vaguely familiar with, as if he had been doing it a long time.

The armies of Númenor arrived one month ago, and Sauron went with them as a prisoner. The Lord of the Nazgûl stayed at Barad-dûr with the other Nazgûl and took over the responsibility of maintaining the land of Mordor. Even though he had immersed himself in the tasks of overseeing the trade of merchant goods, training the army and keeping the diplomatic relations between Mordor and its allied countries well, he was still unable to forget his disturbance. For some reason, the Lord of the Nazgûl wanted to actually go to Númenor himself and see what Sauron was doing there. He could not deny the fact that he was suspicious of his master's motives. Sauron was a proud and haughty individual who always reminded all his servants that he was the one in charge of all in Mordor. Now that he actually humbled himself as a lowly hostage. There was a high possibility that Sauron was plotting something against Númenor.

"Khamûl, would you mind telling me the location of that country?" He asked his second in command one day as they met in the dark hallways of Barad-dûr.

"It is in the far West, just some distance from the West Coast. It would take a few weeks to travel there by horse," Khamûl replied plainly, "I will take it that you intend to go there?"

"I need to know what is Sauron doing, and I am very disturbed since he left."

"It is not like you, Captain, to be disturbed by such a trivial matter. Our master does whatever he pleases, and it is not our responsibility to interfere." Khamûl became suspicious.

"Nevertheless, I will go to Númenor. As Sauron had left Mordor under my charge in his absence, so will I leave the land under you when I am gone." The Lord of the Nazgûl decided he must go without heeding anyone's advice against it.

"As you wish, Captain." Khamûl bowed respectfully. But he caught a glint of contempt in the Easterling's eyes.

Saddling his horse and donning his armor along with his most trusted hand-and-a-half sword, the Lord of the Nazgûl set out from Mordor, riding fast towards the West. He met few obstacles along the way, for he never engaged the elves or men in battle when they attacked him. Various times he had to allow his tired horse to rest, but soon set out again after a day. All throughout the journey, he felt a heavy sense of foreboding as if something terrible was about to happen, something that would change Middle-earth and his life forever.

But it didn't stop him. Onwards he rode, until finally one day he rode out of the woods and reached the West Shores, where the sea stretched out seemly without limit to the horizon. The tips of houses and buildings could be seen far off on an island in the distance. In the middle of that was a high mountain with a flat surface. It was belching black smoke, staining the bright blue sky with a smoky grey.

This must be Númenor. He thought, That high mountain is named the Meneltarma, the highest point of the island and the place where only the king is allowed to set step on. The Three Prayers: Erukyermë, Erulaitalë, and Eruhantalë are held there.

How did I know that? Surely only a Númenórean would have known such things. I highly doubt I was one of them...

He discarded this mystery quickly as he considered a way to get across. The Havens of Umbar provided ships that sailed straight to Númenor, but that would take another few days to travel there, not to mention that no one would allow the greatly feared Lord of the Nazgûl to borrow their ships.

However, he soon discovered he wouldn't have to worry about that. The ground suddenly shook with an unusual intensity. His horse neighed nervously and pawed the ground with its hooves, eager to get away.

What is going on?

The ground only shook harder, and the sea started to form large waves. There were alarmed calls of the birds in the woods as they took flight from the trees. Finally the horse tore the bridle from his grip and raced away. He took no notice of the loss of his ride. He was too mystified by this strange occurrence. Even as he watched, the waves grew higher and higher until it threatened to cover the island of Númenor entirely. And that was exactly what happened next.

The waves fell with a crashing roar that drowned out every other sound. The Lord of the Nazgûl could not help but feel awed by this display of omnipotent power over the waters. Again and again it fell mercilessly on the island, submerging the houses and the buildings. Screams and cries of desperation could be heard faintly as Númenor slowly but surely sank completely beneath the sea. The same destructive waves immediately rushed towards the Lord of the Nazgûl stood.

That was when he began to get nervous. Without his horse, he cannot get away fast enough. He tried to run as the overflowing sea pursued him relentlessly. But soon the water overtook him, and he was lost in a swirl of foaming bubbles and pounding waves. At that last moment, he thought he saw the shadow of a figure brilliantly shrouded in light standing in a distance, looking at everything with an air of great sorrow.

Please review! The next chapter should be up soon if there is positive feedback.