Many months later:

"You have improved greatly and much more quickly than I would have ever thought possible." the Witch King says, his voice inflecting with a slight amount of pride. He holds out a black thorn ring. "Put this on."

"What is it?" I ask curiously, instantly suspicious.

"It is a ring," he growls, "now put it on."

I inspect it carefully, turning it over multiple times in my hand before putting it on.

As soon as I slip in onto my index finger, a wave of nausea suddenly roils in my stomach. I try to pull of the ring, figuring it is the cause of my discomfort, only to find it is stuck fast in place. I curse colorfully, clawing at the metal now wrapped uncomfortably tight.

The thorn ring expands down the length of my finger, spreading over my entire hand in a liquid-like layer of black metal. It stops shifting, forming a type of fingerless glove over my left hand. Scratching at it in vain, I glare at the Witch King.

"Any particular reason for this?" I question bluntly, brandishing my hand in front of him.

"Of course." he replies. If I could see his face, I'm positive he would be smirking.

When I realize he doesn't plan on elaborating I ask him, "Care to clue me in on the reason?" My tone is borderline sarcastic, and the urge to run him through with a sword runs through my head.

"You will not speak to me in that tone, you insolent girl!" he bellows.

I backpedal quickly, "I apologize, Master."

I look down at my feet, eyes flashing with pent in anger. I clench my teeth together and slowly look back up at him while keeping my face carefully blank.

"I shall tell you though. What you now wear on your left hand is pure black magic, allowing me to control your actions."

I gasp, feeling a sudden sensation of uncomfortable pressure in my head, like I'm being smothered with pillows and can't breathe or feel anything.  I start to panic, but I'm powerless to resist against the crushing force. I'm shoved into the depths of my mind, another force taking control of my body.

I stand up without my consent, my legs moving me to stand at the heavy, oak door. Off to the side I can see the Witch King passed out at the table, and I know without a doubt that we are now both inside my body.

I try screaming, yelling, flailing my arms, but to no avail. A vicious laugh bubbles from my mouth.

"Ah, I see you have survived, Spirit Healer. Let us make this fun then, shall we? I will kill everyone you love before extinguishing you from this body forever, starting with that elf prince of yours." my own voice says, laced with malice. It sounds alien to me now, the tone of it harsher and grating.

"No, Legolas!" I scream in my head, and try to fight for control again.

I make the smallest of headway, gaining a brief moment of control in my arms, before being snapped back to helplessness.

"Ah yes, that was his name. Legolas. I will be sure to make his death slow and painful so he can see that the love of his life has turned to the Witch King's side."

"You're a monster." I whisper quietly, silent tears falling down my face.

"Perhaps, but it's no matter to you, because soon you will be dead."