As she exited the room into the vast hall, a small band of faceless, heavily cloaked individuals were waiting for her. They did not speak to her, but the tallest of them outstretched its ragged arm. "This way..." Its voice flicked into her mind like the hiss of a snake. And thus she followed obediently. As they wove their way through the mazes of narrow passageways and wide halls she noticed a small procession beginning to form behind her and her entourage. Soon to join them was her father and other lieutenants and minions of the Dark Lord, all walking in silence. The only sounds to be heard were the rattling of the bone sceptre the first faceless acolyte was shaking and the thud of the heavy footsteps behind them. Soon they were to reach two intricately wrought iron doors, fashioned however with what appeared to be elven designs; curious being in the Dark Tower of all places. Perhaps the Dark Lord did appreciate finery, despite its origins. Without so much as a word, the doors creaked open on their own, revealing a large cathedral type space. The room glowed from the many torches which burned within the alcoves of the blackened walls. On either side of the isle stood many more of the Dark Lord's most revered followers; orcs, uruks, men and other monsters of bane and malice.

As the procession edged on, Aradheleth could see up ahead an alter carved from a single gargantuan rock of polished obsidian, two large braziers burning on either side.
Raising her eyes from under her veil she saw the Lord of carrion standing with his back to them on the opposite side of the alter. His silver hair flowed freely down his back, yet a single braid hung down the middle of its length. As they all were, he was adorned in robes of midnight, yet so fine were they, they rivalled the attire once worn by the high kings of the Noldor. Slowly and gracefully he began to turn towards them, his face pale and smooth in the auburn light. A thin braid hung down each shoulder, tied with a clasp of gold at their ends. A gold circlet of elven fashion adorned his head. His eyes glowed amber as he narrowed his gaze onto his new bride, yet his beautiful features remained void of all emotion.
Aradheleth's skin prickled at the fear that was now beginning to enter her heart. Was his emotionless demeanour caused by some displeasure towards her?

Graciously he moved around the alter to meet her at the top of the few steps leading up to it, his eyes burning deeply into her as he watched her ascend. The faceless acolytes that had lead her to the cathedral then surrounded the front of the alter, and began to chant in an ancient form of black speech, a bastardization of the ancient elven languages, of which she could not clearly understand. She simply had to follow her master's lead, she knew that well enough. From a gaping arch to the side of the room entered a being who appeared to be the head priest due to the elaborate finery he was adorned in. He was holding a crude blade above his head as he chanted, and once he was standing on the opposite side of the alter from the couple to be wed he raised the blade higher in offering to the darkness. Aradheleth continued to watch intently, her skin still prickling from nervousness and a slight hint of fear, as the priest and acolytes continued to chant in the black tongue, praying to their overlord, the banished master of all spite, Melkor.
Turning around slowly, the high priest passed the blade to the Dark Lord. In succession, the Dark Lord turned to face Aradheleth, she following his lead to do the same.

Now that he was completely facing her, she was able to see his face more clearly even through her dark veil. His face, still emotionless, was of such an ethereal beauty. Aradheleth had to remind herself again that he was Annatar, a Maia, a child of the Valar whom were the creations of Ilúvatar, the father of all. If the Dark Lord had been but a mere mortal, surely such beauty would not have been possible. Her thoughts were interrupted then by the sound of his voice as he began to speak, now using words that she could understand.
"Hence an offering of our blood..." He was continuing the priest's previous chants. Leaning forward slightly he took into his own, one of her hands. His touch...it was so smooth...so gentle...his scent was of musk, roses and amber...her sudden entrancement was only broken from the sharp pain of the knife as he dragged its tip across her palm.
"To seal our bond eternal." And with that he brought her hand up over a bowl that was now sitting before them on the alter, two rings of solid gold within it. He held her hand as her warm blood dripped over the rings, and for that time she could feel his eyes on her, burning deeply into her very being. Her heart began to pound with renewed vigor, yet she still struggled to comprehend exactly what she was feeling. Was it excitement? Was it fear? Or was it a deeper feeling which her heart was barring from her?
Once more she was snapped out of her current train of thoughts as the Dark Lord passed her the knife. She stared at it for a moment, her blood still dripping from its blade, when the Dark Lord held out his hand to her. Was she to make an incision into his flesh as well? Fearing retribution if she continued to hesitate, she took his hand with her own. "...His skin, so soft..." And ran the blade along his palm as he had done to her. He did not even flinch, nor did his emotionless expression change as she had done so. Was he really void of all feeling?
Holding his hand above the bowl, she too allowed his blood drip into it, repeating the oath as she did so.
"To seal our bond eternal..."

The high priest took the blade from her and used it to mix the blood and rings together in the bowl as he spoke another enchantment. As the priest chanted, the Dark Lord folded back her veil to reveal her face. She did not know exactly then what prompted her to meet her eyes with his, but when she did she saw a flame spark anew in his gaze.
Dipping his thumb into their blood he traced it down her forehead, making another mark, almost sensually, on her lips. The salty taste of their blood invigorated her. He hand trembled ever so slightly as she did the same to him. "I am touching him...The Dark Lord...a Maia..." Her mind wandered as she made the marks. Oh how she was tempted to trace her thumb down the tattoos of the black points on his face then. She withdrew her hand when she noticed his eyes had narrowed onto her more so. Had he read her thoughts for perhaps the second time? Before she could think on it further he had taken her by the hand once more and was sliding, almost delicately, the thick gold band of marriage onto her ring finger. She was prompted then to do the same. Her hands, still trembling slightly, took his and as he had done, she slid the ring onto his long, lithe finger.

The rights of bonding were now completed, yet now needed to be sealed with a final sacrifice. The Dark Lord and the priest turned to the side door then, Aradheleth following their charge, as they waited for the sacrifice to be brought in. She had expected some expensive creature, such as a bull or a prized stallion or perhaps even a rare beast would be brought in as tribute as were the norm for the noble weddings of her culture. She was taken by utter surprise however, as a tall and beautiful slave woman was lead in by more faceless acolytes. She appeared to be in a trance like state and despite her beauty, the scars of hard labour and slavery were apparent on her milky brown skin. They were noticeable even under the many painted symbols of the Dark Lord. Her long brown hair tumbled in waves over her plump and supple breasts, her arms hung loosely at her sides. As Aradheleth stared at her, she could not help but feel that this woman looked familiar, but from where she could not pinpoint. Perhaps she had been a slave that she had seen in Carn Dûm, and was thus gifted by her father. That was the most likely explanation she could conjure then. The Dark Lord went to the woman, and wrapping one arm around her thin waist he placed his other blood coated hand over her face, muttering some ancient tongue as he did. The woman then collapsed into a seemingly unconscious state against his arm for which he then picked her up and carried her to lay her upon the alter top.

Her breathing appeared to be shallow as she lay there in her naked beauty, the Dark Lord slowly circling around to stand at her head. Without another reaction he used the knife to slit her throat easily and effortlessly, and the woman did not even move as the blood began to gurgle and flow down her neck. Had the Lord of Gifts shown her mercy by putting her into unconsciousness beforehand? The Dark Lord allowed some of her blood to drip into the bowl that still contained theirs.
"As a symbol of obedience." His said as he lifted his gaze once more to meet hers, his voice chilling then as if in warning. He moved then to the woman's abdominal area and once more made a slit across her skin, this time across the top of her pubic region. Again, he allowed her blood to drip into the bowl.
"A symbol of fertility and breeding."
And then, moving back to the woman's head he pried open her jaw, effortlessly ripping her tongue out from her mouth after he had done so.
Holding it up for all to see, he gave a swift flick with his spare hand and the corpse of the woman was swiftly taken away. Once more his cold gaze fell upon Aradheleth and he placed the tongue into the blood filled bowl on the alter before her, pushing it in her direction. Her eyes widened at this gesture, not knowing exactly what he was intending for her to do. His eyes narrowed and darkened then and the cruelty in his gaze spoke a thousand words.

Without hesitating further she took the tongue into her hands, it still wet and slick with the slave woman's warm blood. The blood oozed through Aradheleth's nimble fingers, and dripped down onto the polished midnight marble underfoot as she continued to stare down at it. Her stomach churned at the mere thought of what she had to do, yet she did not want to be the only one to have to go through with the experience. No, she would test her new husband's tolerance to a challenge.
Taking the knife back into her hands, she cut the tongue in half lengthwise. Taking up a half for herself she bit hard into the sinewy flesh, ripping at it with her teeth. The salty iron taste and the gristle-like texture was enough to make her stomach lurch. Yet despite feeling the sickening and burning bile rise up from her stomach, she used all her willpower to prevent herself from vomiting; Her stout pride would not allow for her to be humiliated or dishonoured in front of her new husband and his subjects.
Grinding the flesh between her teeth she swallowed bite after bite, forcing it down her gullet with each sickening swallow until none but the other half was left.
Her stomach gurgled and clenched at the horrific experience, and all eyes were on her to see if she would succumb.

As she clutched at her stomach, she rose her eyes to meet the Dark Lord's. Once more his gaze was burning amber in anticipation, watching her intently. Pushing all of her strength down into her stomach, the sickening feelings subsided at last. Standing proudly, wiping her blood drenched lips with her hand, she pushed the other half of the tongue over to the Maia.
"A symbol of our bonding." She said, her voice victorious.
The corners of his thin lips curled into a shrewd grin, taking her aback slightly. "Does he approve of what I have done?" She thought to herself then. Without hesitation he took the other half of her offering into his mouth, unwavering and not in the slightest disheartened by the experience. He ate every last piece and showed no signs of being disgusted or repulsed. "Of course not...Why would he be?" Then his mouth twisted into a full grin, and giving her a nod of approval he turned and exited the cathedral, leaving her standing there in a daze.
Yet her father was soon to usher her out of the room, followed again by the procession of minions and acolytes.

After having been dragged to a smaller room where she was washed of the blood and her hand bound, she was ushered down the narrow passages to another grand hall; the dining hall. Large torches jutted out from the walls and long rectangular tables of dark mahogany hugged the sides of the room, adorned with an array of exotic meats, fruits and other intricately prepared cuisines. The Dark Lord was sitting at the head of the tables on a large iron throne, watching her with burning eyes when she entered. She bowed deeply to him, and once he gave her a nod of approval she made her way over to the smaller, yet equally grand throne reserved for her beside him. Though he looked down to her as she sat, his face was once more void of emotion. It unnerved her somewhat, for how was she to gauge what he was thinking of her if he showed no signs of even caring?
With another flick of his hand, an array of servants and entertainers streamed into the grand hall. The servants brought them wine, while the entertainers and warriors positioned themselves in the space at the middle of the tables. Aradheleth noticed then that there were iron cages above them, containing scantily clad or naked slave dancers.
With another flick of his hand the music began, lively as it were, and those set for their entertainment began their routines. Some acts were more lewd than others, and though these acts in particular made her feel even more nervous, she could not help but feel a warmth pool between her thighs. Would the Dark Lord do some of these things to her that they were doing? One male follower was standing behind a female slave, his hands firmly groping her breasts as he ravaged her from behind...was this what she was in for? The roughness of some of the acts did put fear into her heart. She had seen her father's orc and human minions ravaging slaves mercilessly before. Witnessing such was all she knew on the matter for no one had ever taught her about the act itself and the pleasures it could possible entail. All the while, dancers were prancing and twirling around those participating in the carnal deeds and slowly her mind began to wonder into horrid thoughts...the screaming of the woman as she was being raped....the burning cinders all about her....

"You should eat something, Aradheleth." Came a voice into her thoughts that was as luxurious as silk. Snapping out of her daze she looked up to her new husband beside her, and his amber eyes once more met hers. There was something in his gaze then, some deeper feeling or emotion, yet what it was she could not clearly tell.
"You need your energy." His lips then curved into a wicked grin. Before she had time to contemplate what he had implied from his expression, he turned back to the 'festivity' before them. Nervously she took some meat and bread from the platter before her, yet her stomach churned once more at the mere thought of food, despite how delicious it smelt and appeared. Was it her nerves, or the remnants of the tongue still not agreeing with her? Regardless, she nibbled at the food, not wanting to disappoint her new husband, her master. She noticed however that he did not touch any of it, save for a few small pieces of fruit. She knew that the elves did not need to eat much, but did the Valar and Maia really need no nourishment when on this plain? Or perhaps he simply was not hungry, though she found that notion highly unlikely.

She sat there in relative silence for some time as the dancing, and lewd acts, became more and more intense. Lavish gifts of rare jewels and artefacts were brought to them as gifts from their subordinates. "I wonder what my father shall bring?" She thought mindlessly to herself then.
"He has already presented his gift." Came that silky voice down to her once more. Though he was not looking at her, her eyes shot up to him in surprise.
"You..." He glanced at her sideways, another cruel grin gracing his fine lips. Raising his glass of wine all music and activity stopped in an instant.
"To the Bride of Mordor!" He called in Black speech. All of the dark and grisly attendants raised their cups and goblets. "To the Bride of Mordor!" They chanted. The vigor and enthusiasm in their voices reverberated throughout the room, taking Aradheleth by utter surprise. Perhaps it had not yet sunk in that she was now officially married to the Dark Lord. Despite her shock, she felt a great heat of pride envelope her. Yet she had no time to bask in it for the room fell silent suddenly once more. The Dark Lord was looking down at her now, his eyes sparkling like two polished yellow topaz.
"Dance for me." He said simply, and she was surprised once more at such a request. Yet she knew it would be her chance to truly impress him for dancing was one of her stronger fortes. "Yes, my lord." She replied, down-casting her eyes as she stood from the table. His eyes did not leave her for even a moment as she made her way around the guests to the clearing in the middle of the room. Wrapping her veil about her face she left only her eyes visible. She knew what she had to do, and under any cost she had to be successful. All eyes were on her now.

Posing herself in the clearing before the grand table, she lowered her gaze and waited for the music to start once more. The Dark Lord once more rose his hand, and the musicians began something of an ethnic note at their master's signal. The beat of the drums, the strings of the lutes and the smooth notes of the flutes began slowly, as she matched its rhythm to raise herself up from the floor, her eyes finding their way to her master's. Twirling her hands and her arms upwards, she stopped at the brief pause in the music, still like a beautiful statue frozen in time. As the tempo began once more, increasing gradually, she swirled her hips enticingly, allowing her gaze to catch his, yet never allowing it to linger for too long lest she break her spell she was weaving on him. Indeed, though his face remained still, his eyes spoke a thousand words as they were captivated and enthralled in her being. She continued to match the rhythm and tempo as it became faster - almost frantic - swirling, lunging and spinning with vigour. All the while she continued to entrance him with her bright hazel eyes, as his amber gaze continued to burn deeply into her. Yet unexpectedly he stood, and once more the room fell deathly silent. She almost tripped on herself at the suddenness of the halt. His eyes narrowed darkly at her before he turned and walked regally out of the room, without even another look or word in her direction.

Her heart seemed to cease beating at that very moment as a sudden, nauseous wave of fear engulfed her. Had she done something wrong? Was her performance displeasing to her lord and husband? Her mind began to flood with panicked thoughts, yet she was quick to be dragged out of them.
"Do not stand there gawking girl!" Her father's voice came to her fiercely.
"Make haste!"
And with that she took up the skirts of her silk dress and rushed out of the room after her master. However, he had already disappeared from sight. Where was she supposed to go? No one had come out to help her and lead in the the right direction. What was going to happen now? Would she be punished for giving a poor performance? Would the Dark Lord berate her like her father often did? Gulping in bravely she followed where her intuition took her and eventually it lead her to the largest, most intricately wrought iron doors she had seen in the entire tower. As she stood before them, she could sense, perhaps even feel an immense power emanating from within. She knew he was in there, for no one emanated such a power as he. Raising her hand to knock upon the doors, they slowly began to creak open on their own...