TEMPLE OF TERROR
March 25, 3020

Written by Wraith
The twisted dead branches and trunk of the White Tree of Gondor had ignited brightly when the fire was set to it, and the flames licked the body of the first sacrifice, an aide to Aragorn the Uncrowned. On the first day of the sacrifices, March 15th, Lutaumaarsh, which is in the Common Speech "Battle Day," many were the ones who were forced up the steps to the altar in the great Temple of Sauron. Prisoners from the great war of the summer, Gondorians, Rohirrim, Elves, and political prisoners, all shed their blood in dedication to Melkor and Sauron.

The Great One Himself had seen fit to attend these first ceremonies held in His Master's honor, and had led a great procession west from Barad-dur. Riding a great white charger with ornate trappings of black and red upon its flanks, Sauron had presented a grand sight to the people who had gathered along the processional route and had accepted with cool, aloft dignity the adulation of His worshipers. Seated upon a viewing platform high above the floor of the Temple and surrounded by the Nazgûl, His many bodyguards and honored guests, Sauron, who appeared in mannish form, hooded and in white pristine robes, beheld the spectacle below in silent, mocking amusement, for the sacrifices themselves did not impress him, no, not nearly so much as the jest that he was once again playing upon those who were sacrificed and those who sacrificed them. He recalled with fiendish glee the days of the great Temple in Numenor and thought what pleasant irony that it was that those days were once again returned to Him.

As the High Priest Nagroth gripped the ceremonial dagger, its ornate hilt in the shape of a dragon made of aquamarine and diamond enveloped in flames of ruby and topaz, and then held his arms high above his head in supplication as he faced the gaze of his Master, Sauron nodded benevolently down at him and relished the sight as the dagger plunged downward into the hearts of the victims.

The second day of the sacrifices, March 21st, Sauronkyermë, which means "Prayer to Sauron" in the Common Tongue, was a day of celebration and jubilance as fathers from Mordor's vassal states offered their sons and daughters, bedecked in garlands of flowers. Sauron had been most pleased when the High Priest offered up prayers to Him, begging, imploring that the land, flocks, and herds would produce bounteously and yield to a great harvest. Sauron laughed to himself and wondered if Yavanna would be impressed. "No," He reflected, "She would be much to stale for that."

Now by the third day of sacrifices, March 25th, Nazgaarsh, which is in the Common Speech, "Ring Day," the silver dome of the Temple was beginning to show a faint discoloration, the result of the smoke from the many sacrifices that had risen up through the louver at the top. This day, the last sacrifice day of the month of March, the Month of Celebration, was to be held in honor of the Friend of Sauron, Shakh Frodo Baggins, and commemorate him for his return of the One Ring to the Master.

The Shakh himself had been forced unwillingly to attend but at his first sight of the altar, had fainted dead away and lay prostrate, as though in worship, and the two Easterlings who guarded him did not bother to revive him; they considered that had fallen into an ecstatic swoon because of his great zeal for the Master. After all, they had once been stationed in Nurn, where such behavior was common at thrice yearly sacrifices. Sauron thought that was a masterful touch to emulate the Numenorean custom of Erukyermë, the spring feast of prayer to Eru; the Erulaitalë, the midsummer feast in praise of Eru; and the Eruhantalë, the autumn feast of thanksgiving to Eru.

Somewhere of the dark recesses of the temple where they had been herded, the victims, heavily guarded, await their fate. Captives from Rohan comprise the greater number of candidates for immolation as well as a few Gondorians, both men and women, who were captured during the war and kept imprisoned for just this purpose.

The High Priest Nagroth looks up at Sauron expectantly and waits for Him to give the signal to begin this day's sacrifices and Nagroth's eyes gleam as Sauron raises up His right arm, the Ring shining like a brilliant burst of golden light on His dark hand, and signals for the sacrifices to resume.

Wulfhere portrayed by Eowyn
Ameria portrayed by Hobbitness
High Priestess Zaahof portrayed by Madurz
Narrator, Sauron High Priest Nagroth and Lesser Priest portrayed by Angmar

High Priest Nagroth: *The High Priest bows to Sauron and says, his voice cold* Let the sacrifices begin! Bring forth the first offering! *he says as he stands in front of the great altar, his eyes closed in reflection*
High Priest Nagroth: *The High Priest Nagroth looks out over the great temple at the people gathered beneath the columns to watch. The Corridors of Approach are kept open to the north, south, east and west and are flanked by guards*
High Priest Nagroth: *He bows to Sauron and then turns slowly and faces the Northern Corridor of Approach where the High Priestess, the other priestesses and the temple dancers have their lodgings.*
High Priest Nagroth: *He looks to a woman waiting near the great doorway.* Let the High Priestess Zaahof come and attend me in this high ritual!
High Priestess Zaahof: *Shrouded in a black robe...hood covering her head..a smile on her face and eyes bright as she walks down the corridor, past the guards. She bows low to Sauron and the Nazgul and joins High Priest Nagroth at the altar*
High Priest Nagroth: *He nods to her and then turns facing the altar and Sauron, the Nazgul and honored guests in the viewing platform above*
Narrator: *In the holding area, the guards receive a message that it is time to send forth the first prisoner, a young Rohir. Forcefully, they take him, kicking and fighting and haul him past the cell area down an inner corridor and then through the columns and then across the black marble floor to the altar.*
Wulfhere: *The young Eorling, Wulfhere, struggles viciously against the guards, cursing and screaming* Fiends! Fiends! All of you are fiends who relish in the slaughter of the innocent and feast upon the flesh of the fallen!
Narrator: *The guards lift the struggling Rohir to the altar and clap manacles on his wrists, attached to the rings on either side of the altar*
Wulfhere: *he screams loudly* May the One curse you to darkness and damnation forever!
High Priest Nagroth: *He looks to the High Priestess* Esteemed Priestess, present me the ceremonial dagger *he reaches his hand to her*
Wulfhere: *Wulfhere curses them more* Heathen savages! All of you! Fiends!
High Priestess Zaahof: *She walks over to one of the other priestesses who, with lowered head and extended arms, holds out a black velvet pillow with the ceremonial dagger laid upon it. High Priestess Zaahof places both hands over it...above the dagger but not touching it. She closes her eyes and visualizes a powerful blue light hovering over her then filling her. She speaks..her voice, soft, low and haunting*
High Priestess Zaahof: In the ineffable name of the Great Melkor and before the Dark Lord Sauron; The High Ones, named and nameless. I invite the powers of Darkness upon this tool, that it may serve as an extension and amplification of our will, desire, loyalty and praise in this great offering. Forever in the service of our Great Lords.
High Priestess Zaahof: *She lowers one hand and places the other on the dagger...visualizing the blue light infused into it. Her fingertips lightly resting upon it and begins stroking the blade from hilt to tip....the light growing stronger. She speaks again*
High Priestess Zaahof: *In the almighty name of Melkor and in the name of our Master Sauron, I bless and dedicate this instrument.
High Priestess Zaahof: *She opens her eyes now and with both hands she delicately takes up the dagger in her fingers...one hand on the hilt..the other on the blade and lifts it, holding it out, in front of her chest and she turns and faces the High Priest again and begins walking back to him. She reaches out her hands to him to present to him the ceremonial dagger*
High Priest Nagroth: *He extends his hands out, palm up, taking the dagger from his hands. Then lifting his head to the viewing platform, he raises his arms, bows his head and holds the dagger aloft*
High Priest Nagroth: *Then, at a slight nod from the Master, he brings his arms down, taking the dagger in his right hand and kisses the blade*
High Priest Nagroth: *In a deep, solemn voice, he speaks* We dedicate the blood to the great Melkor, our Master Sauron, and to the worthy Shakh Baggins!
Wulfhere: *The Eorling bound upon the altar glares at the high priest with a look of utter hatred and disdain* May you, your dark Master, and all His allies be accursed forever to the furthest reaches of the Void for all eternity!
High Priest Nagroth: *He turns to the Priestess* Bid farewell to the candidate, Esteemed Priestess, and let his spirit ascend into the presence of Lord Melkor!
High Priestess Zaahof: *In a state of ignoring all words of protest...her mind on a higher state of consciousness. She delicate smile on her face. Eyes shining in wonder and joy or this occasion she moves over to the shackled candidate inches away from him and places both hands on the side of his face.. she holds him still as he struggles to move his head from side to side and places a gentle kiss on his forehead and then one on his lips..speaking again low words unheard to most*
High Priestess Zaahof: *she steps back and away from him and to the side of the High Priest*
Wulfhere: *he says in a quiet, deadly voice, glaring at them both with utter hatred* I go to my fathers; when well-deserved death finally claims you both, perhaps you will join your precious Dark Lord in the dark oblivion in which he dwells!
High Priest Nagroth: *The High Priest raises his hand high in the air and looks to Sauron. With a nod from Sauron's head, he brings the knife down swiftly, plunging it into the Rohir's heart*
Wulfhere: *A shock of unbearable pain and white hot fire hits him like a flash of lightning, and then he knows no more.*
Narrator: *The blood rushes from the Rohir's heart and flows into a blood hole beneath him, then begins to ooze downward and through another opening and drips into a golden laver.*
Narrator: *The crowd seems to exhale all in one breath. The priest looks upward again at Sauron and sees the glowing eyes of the Nazgul and is pleased that the sacrifice has been accepted.*
Narrator: *An attendant moves the golden laver away as the priest and priestess retreat from the dead body of the Rohir. Servants bearing bundles of faggots walk solemnly down the corridor of guards and begin piling the wood around the altar.*
Narrator: *Oil is doused upon the wood and an attendant bearing a torch bends and thrusts it into the faggots and then quickly jumps back as the flames erupt. A hideous stench, borne upon an unnatural wind rises up and creeps towards the louver at the top of the dome.*
Narrator: *The clothes catch on first, and then the hair, eyeballs melt away in the heat, and then the flesh burns off, leaving nothing but the bones. The fire burns until nothing remains but charred scraps of bones.*
Narrator: *After the fire has spent its fury, servants scoop the bones and unburned pieces of wood into buckets and bear them away. After the air is cooled by an unnatural breeze, the high priest and high priestess walk back to the altar*
Narrator: *In the cell area, a lesser priest walks up to Ameria, a wood elf, and asks her* Would you wish a draught of poppy to make your passing easier?
Ameria: *Ameria stands in a cluster of other silvan elleths, her sisters and childhood friends. They have all been mourning since Wulfhere was taken away. When the priest approaches Ameria, her sisters burst into tears, while Ameria stares at him in shock, her lips parted*
Ameria: Ah...yes, thank you...*she murmurs, in a daze*
Narrator: *The priest looks over to a servant who stands holding a goblet in his hand. With a nod from the priest, the servant approaches the elf and hands her the goblet*
Ameria: *Ameria takes the goblet in her shaking hands and lifts it to her lips. As she drinks, she finds that the draught calms her nerves*
Narrator: *The priest waits to see the calming effects of the poppies*
Ameria: *She drains it almost to the dregs until her head spins with a pleasant buzz. The horror of her situation blurs in her mind, and all she can think is, "I am going home."*
Ameria: *Her hands stop shaking. She returns the goblet to the servant with a slight smile, her eyes a bit clouded*
Narrator: *The priest whispers in her ear* Will you follow me willingly?
Ameria: *Her mind has difficulty processing the priest's words, but she is still afraid of him, of all of them*....Willingly? *she blinks hard*
Lesser Priest: Aye, willingly, and not struggling? *his voice is a snake-like hiss*
Ameria: *She instinctively backs away from him* I...I...*glances to her sisters* I don't know, when I reach my destination, what I will do.
Lesser Priest: Walk up the steps to the altar, your demeanor stately and serene, and then lie upon the altar *his voice is a whispering hiss*
Ameria: *Involuntarily, she gives a soft moan, and her knees buckle for a moment. Her two sisters support her by the arms, weeping and embracing her*
Ameria: *She soon smiles sadly at them and waves them away. She turns to the priest* Yes...yes, I can do that.
Lesser Priest: Then come, maiden, follow me *he turns from her and glides out the cell as the guards hold open the door and then down the Corridor of Approach into the main temple*
Lesser Priest: *He stops at the columns* Walk forward past the guards to the altar and join the High Priest and Priestess
Ameria: *Her feet carry her of their own accord. She feels as though she were sleepwalking, or in a dream. Her face feels cold. She touches a graceful hand to her cheek and is almost surprised to find it covered with tears*
Narrator: *The observers watch, not daring to speak, hardly to breathe as the solemnity of the scene unfolds before them. Sauron, the Nazgul and the honored guests peer down at her as she approaches the altar*
Ameria: *She wipes the tears away, tucks her long hair behind her shoulders, and lifts her head as she approaches the thrones and the altar. She falters when she sees the Dark Lord and the Nazgul. She stops, petrified, wanting to turn and run*
Ameria: Ai! *she sighs breathlessly* Tiro nin Elbereth!
Narrator: *As she nears the altar, the guards silently sidle up to her, two putting their hands on her shoulders. The Nazgul give a low hiss at the name of Elbereth*
Ameria: *It is all happening so fast, she can hardly convince herself that all this is real. Her mind mercifully befuddled by the draught, she struggles but little under the guard's hands*
High Priest Nagroth: *The priest looks towards her, his eyes seeking hers. The guards escort her to the base of the stairs leading up to the altar as the priest's eyes burn into hers. He intones softly in a harsh language* Skaat, skaat (Come, come)
Ameria: *Her eyes meet the high priest's. She did not dare to look directly at Sauron or the Nazgul, so the priest's hard glare seems filled with evil menace to her. Her own eyes widen and the pupils dilate, then she shakes her head to clear it and goes to meet him*
High Priestess Zaahof: *she stands beside the High Priest...her eyes staring deeply into the woman's..her mouth moving as her chest heaves with heavy breaths*
Ameria: *She feels almost detached from her body. Her whole being is numbed by both extreme fear and the dizzying draught*
High Priest Nagroth: *Softly, he speaks to her, his eyes trying to capture both the elf's gaze and her mind* Come forward, it will not hurt. You will be at peace at last *he says in a hissing sigh*
Ameria: *Gracefully, she steps forward, gliding toward him across the black marble floor*
High Priest Nagroth: *Seeing her reluctance, the guards by her side pull her forward up the steps*
Ameria: *Her heart begins to pound wildly as she nears the altar*
High Priest Nagroth: *The priest chants as she is moved towards the altar* Skaat, skaat
Ameria: *She tries to fill her mind with thoughts of Elvenhome, and her present surroundings become blurry. She stumbles alongside the priest*
High Priest Nagroth: *The guards, seeing her hesitation, scoop her up and place her upon the altar. They take her delicate white hands and snap the manacles shut upon them and then about her ankles and she is bound to the altar*
Ameria: *She gives a little cry as they place her on the altar. She struggles not to weep as they bind her. She must not disgrace her kind by appearing fainthearted*
High Priest Nagroth: *He looks to the High Priestess* Give me the ceremonial dagger!
Ameria: *She bites the insides of her cheeks and squeezes her eyes shut. Her fingernails dig into her palms*
High Priestess Zaahof: *bringing the dagger up in front of her face, closing and opening her eyes, she steps to the High Priest and extends her hands to him slowly, presenting him the ceremonial dagger*
High Priest Nagroth: *He takes the ceremonial dagger from her hands, kisses the side of the blade, and then says in a deep voice* We dedicate the blood to the great Melkor, our Master Sauron, and to the worthy Shakh Baggins!
Ameria: *She imagines the most beautiful scenes of nature she has ever seen, and thinks how those of Elvenhome will surpass them*
High Priest Nagroth: *He turns to the priestess again* And according to the dictates of the ritual, speak farewell to the offering
High Priestess Zaahof: *she moves slowly, with wicked grace to the woman and grins as she places her hands on either side of her head and brings her lips close to the woman's face... she kisses her forehead gently and then speaking words low and even...that only a few hear..* O Great Lord and Master Of Might and Darkness accept this offering of faith and service... abiding in Thee with Praise, Honor and Glory which will be given to Thee forever and ever
High Priestess Zaahof: *She brings her lips to gently touch the woman's and closes her eyes and smiles.. lifting her face she backs up slowly and moves down the steps to join again at the side of the High Priest*
Ameria: *She opens her eyes with a gasp when she feels hands on her face. To her dismay, that priestess is bending over her*
Ameria: *Ameria shudders and narrows her eyes during the priestess' prayer* Nan Belain! *she mutters in disgust* (By the Valar!)
High Priest Nagroth: *His eyes flash a gleam of evil blue light as he bends down and kisses the elf upon the forehead. He whispers to her* Farewell to pain and sorrow. Soon you will be in the arms of the Great Melkor forever!
Ameria: No, no, the One! But yes, farewell to pain *closes her eyes again with a dreamy smile*
High Priest Nagroth: *He straightens up, steps slightly back from her and raises his hand high in the air. Looking to Sauron and seeing His nod of approval, the High Priest plunges the knife into the elf's heart*
High Priestess Zaahof: *A long sigh of satisfaction escapes her lips as her eyes flutter shut*
Ameria: *Her whole body tenses, her breath hitches in her throat, then after a moment her fists unclench and she relaxes with a sigh*
High Priest Nagroth: *The blood from the riven elf's heart gushes out, flowing down into the catch hole beneath her body and oozes into the laver, where a servant waits to take it*
High Priest Nagroth: *The High Priest turns to the priestess* Elf blood *he sighs* There will be great spells made from this!
High Priestess Zaahof: *her eyes flash as she grins* indeed...indeed!
High Priest Nagroth: *He turns from the altar and waits a distance away for the priestess to join him.*
High Priest Nagroth: *Soon, other servants circle the body with faggots , drench them with oil while a waiting servant stands by with a torch*
High Priestess Zaahof: *As the other come up the steps she moves between the others and stands with the High Priest*
High Priest Nagroth: *The servant thrusts the torch into the wood and soon a fire blazes and once again the smell of burning flesh wafts up into the air and through the louver at the top of the dome*
High Priest Nagroth: *The observers are silent as they watch the smoke of the sacrifice ascend into the air*
Frodo: *Frodo wakes to a pounding sensation in his head. He hear flames crackling and smells a dreadful stench. He wonders where he is*
High Priest Nagroth: *He turns to the priestess by his side* Is not the smell of sweet savor pleasing to the Great Lords?
Frodo: *Then he remembers...he is in Sauron's temple in Gondor, at the human sacrifices to dedicate it and to commemorate the return of Sauron's Ring*
Frodo: *He sits up with a start, then kneels petrified at the sight of Sauron and the Nazgul. Is he back in Lugburz again?!...No, but their gaze is no less terrible*
Frodo: *His gaze drifts to the fire. The realization hits him that this is a sacrificial victim who has just been killed. He feels sick and holds his head*
High Priestess Zaahof: *she turns to the priest and places her hands over her heart and says breathily and sincerely* It is the most wonderful scent...an offering to our Lords...no sweeter a scent
Frodo: *He looks about him wondering where to go in the chaos. Two guards notice he is awake and put him in a chair*
Frodo: *He stays there, trying to will his mind to take him somewhere else, leaning his face on his hand and shielding his eyes*
Narrator: *Sauron turns His head and looks down at Frodo, and Frodo can feel His gaze just as certain as a man can feel the sun beating upon his brow*
Frodo: *Sauron's gaze torments him with its heat and brings back memories he thought he had buried. He tries to wait it out, keeping his face behind his hand and silently praying*
Frodo: *And I could have been on my way to the Shire by now, he thinks....but I must not think that, it does no good now!*
Sauron: *Sauron rises to His feet and as He does, all assembled fall to their faces in supplication and dread*
Sauron: *In a mighty voice He booms, never shifting His piercing gaze from Frodo* This is the day of the Ringbearer. All hail Shakh Baggins, the Friend of Sauron!
Frodo: *Frodo sees that the people around him have fallen prostrate. His terror heightens. He is not sure what to do, or what danger he is in now...he lowers his hand and meets Sauron's gaze
Sauron: This day is dedicated to him and may all the blood spilt this day be spilt on his hands!
Frodo: *Frodo immediately shifts his eyes away from Sauron's and grimaces. Frodo didn't think he could do it, but Sauron has actually topped everything that happened to him in Lugburz*
Sauron: *He points at Frodo, the ring pulsing on His black Hand which juts out in sharp contrast against His white robe* You are ever My friend, Shakh Baggins, and you ever will be!
Frodo: *These sacrifices and the guilt on him are symbolic of his worst guilt, but even more, the sight of the Ring on Sauron's hand is enough to drive him into madness. Only by some grace does he endure this.*
Frodo: *Frodo looks down at the floor, paralyzed, every fiber of his being intent on surviving these moments*
Sauron: *His great voice thunders through the temple* Now that we have honored the Shakh, let the sacrifices resume!
Frodo: *leans his head on his hand again and stifles a groan*
Narrator: *Throughout the crowd here and there, unnoticed by all, are silent men, their gray eyes riveted on Frodo as they listen to every word that is spoken. Men from the North, spies of the King, watch Frodo and hear the words of the Enemy in praise of him. Before many days have passed, alarming reports will reach the King of the walking abroad of Sauron once more upon the land, and of the halfling's treachery. And as Aragorn the Uncrowned, with a grave look upon his face, reads the reports, his heart will be filled with a great sadness.*
Narrator: *Sauron resumes His seat and silence falls in the temple and gradually the people rise to their feet. Servants come back and clear off the remains of the altar. The sacrifices will go on throughout the remainder of the day and at night, great feasts and festivals will be held in the auxiliary temple to the north where the temple dancers will regale the honored guests with their dancing*
Narrator: *The common people will gradually return to the city, jubilant that they had watched yet another day of the sacrifices and look forward to the next day of celebration. High Priest Nagroth will follow the High Priestess Zaahof to her chambers. He will once again probe her dark inner mysteries and she, ever willing to instruct, will yield to him all knowledge, denying nothing of the secrets of her dark fires. The king and his brother, their advisors and guards will return to the Citadel and the next morning, Sauron, riding His great white charger, accompanied by His bodyguards, escorts and the Nine will return to Mordor, secure in the fact that darkness reigns over the land that was once known as Gondor.*

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