Goldwyn frequently cursed the day she had been born and wondered what she had ever done to deserve such a wretched fate. Her homeland had been assailed by Middle-earth's greatest foe, and she had been taken as a captive to the land of her enemies. Her husband had most likely fallen on some distant battlefield, and the whereabouts of her three sons were unknown. It was all that she could do to keep from giving into despair, to let the hot tears flow down her cheeks. She remembered the long and dreary journey to this forsaken land, each mile taking her farther and farther away from her beloved country and her sons. During the daytime, she had been successful in holding back the weeping when the others were watching her, but many times during the nights that never seemed to end, she had wrapped herself in her blanket and wept bitter tears.

To keep herself from sinking into the deepest of depressions, Goldwyn tried to comfort herself with memories of happier days. She thought of the times when she had walked down the village street to the weekly fair in Grenefeld with her husband, Fastred, and her three sons, Fródwine, Frumgár, and Fritha. She could spend hours browsing among the stalls where bolts of cloth and sewing notions were sold, but sometimes she would walk along with Fastred among the pens of cattle, pigs, sheep, and goats. One of her favorite memories was how excited the two older boys had been when they had been allowed for the first time to help the servants drive the cattle back to their farm.

While these memories soothed Goldwyn's spirit, the solace they provided was only a fleeting thing. Her situation was a hopeless and miserable one. She would be forced to be the concubine of Esarhaddon uHuzziya, a man whom she utterly despised. He was a slave trader who made his fortunes off of war and tragedy, and though perhaps he had never stooped so low as to commit murder, he still had blood upon his hands. The thought of sharing the slaver's bed sickened Goldwyn and made her skin crawl in revulsion. Though he might force her to submit to him, he could never force her heart to love him, and she resolved to hate him to her dying day.

From the first moment that Esarhaddon had laid eyes upon Goldwyn in the ruins of Osgiliath, he had desired her. He had told her that he would take her to his villa, where she would live a life of luxury. Her sons would be taught how to read and write in Black Speech and Haradric, and he would find professions for them when they were older. The very notion of the boys growing up amongst enemies and learning their ways was abhorrent to Goldwyn, for she knew that the darkness of Mordor would corrupt their pure, innocent hearts and minds. She prayed that her sons had been able to escape and were now among friends and kinsmen in the Riddermark, living their lives in freedom, unfettered by the chains of thralldom.

Goldwyn knew that some might consider her a terrible mother for not keeping her children close with her when she made her escape attempt, for abandoning them in Osgiliath to the mercies of fate. On that dark and gloomy night, she had been forced to make a terrible decision. She could stay with her sons and allow the slaver's search parties to capture all four of them at once, or she could attempt to lure the searchers away from her boys. So, as the woodgrouse hen leads the fox away from her chicks by limping in the opposite direction of her nest, Goldwyn darted out of their hiding place and led the slavers on a merry chase through the ruins. It had been her hope to elude her captors, then circle back to her sons and slip away with them into the darkness.

Alas, her hopes had been for naught.

Something had happened to her in Osgiliath, something dark and terrible. As she fled from the slaver's men, she had taken refuge in the crypt of some ancient Gondorian noble. With no light to guide her path, she quickly became lost in the labyrinthine corridors of the tomb. She thought she heard the voice of her husband calling to her from the impenetrable gloom – a foolish notion, she realized now, for it was unlikely that Fastred had ever stepped one foot inside Osgiliath. A light came to her in the darkness, and she saw a spirit bearing the guise of her husband, though it was not truly he. Overjoyed at seeing Fastred once again, she had allowed the phantom to take her into his spectral embrace, realizing all too late that his intention was to steal her body and send her spirit fleeing to the Halls of the Dead.

Goldwyn could remember little after that. Long was she ill, slipping in and out of consciousness, and she had little memory of the time that had passed. The caravan's healer told her that years of flooding and seeping rainwater had made the crypt a breeding ground for molds and miasmas, and she had sickened from some malady caused by the dismal, fetid air. Yet she knew from the concerned expression which Tushratta wore perpetually upon his somber face that he believed that the true cause of her illness was something far different. From what he related to her about her condition, she suffered from strange episodes in which she behaved in a lewd or violent manner. These episodes became increasingly worse, until one day Tushratta performed a ritual which invoked the name of Estë the Healer. After that, the episodes ceased, and she was hale of mind once again. The ordeal had taken a toll upon her body, however, and she was left with a fatigue which would not go away.

Though he was a man of the enemy, Tushratta did seem to take pity upon her. If it were not for the healer's intervention on her behalf, the vile slave trader would have demanded that she spend every evening at his table and every night in his bed. Tushratta emphasized the delicate state of Goldwyn's health after her ordeal, warning Esarhaddon not to put too many demands upon her, lest her condition worsen. The slaver had apparently taken the healer's words to heart, for whenever he visited Goldwyn in the hospital wain, he treated her as though she were made of fragile porcelain and the slightest touch would cause her to shatter. Though she did not like to be beholden to anyone, especially not an enemy, Goldwyn felt a sense of gratitude towards Tushratta for keeping her abhorrent suitor at bay.

She suspected that the healer harbored a secret infatuation for her, but was far too reserved and honorable to act upon it. When Tushratta had first started assuming the role of her protector, she wondered if he were trying to endear himself to her in hopes that she might return his affections. However, he had always conducted himself in a chivalrous fashion around her, and she greatly benefited from his pity, or fondness, or whatever it could be called. No matter what his motivations were, he had protected her from that pig Esarhaddon, and for that she was exceedingly thankful. Perhaps if the circumstances had been different and Tushratta not been a man of the enemy, she could have allowed herself to feel affection for him, maybe even love. A tall, thin man with a rather solemn demeanor, he was not particularly handsome, but he did have his charm. He had dedicated his life to tending to the sick, and he often wished that there was more that he could do to help the ailing. He was very intelligent and knowledgeable about many subjects, and it never ceased to amaze Goldwyn just how much this man knew.

Goldwyn wondered if she would miss the Khandian healer and his tales. She would certainly miss his protection, for soon she would be completely at the mercy of the loathsome slave trader. She shuddered in revulsion at the thought of that horrid man pawing over her like a witless beast in rut. While Esarhaddon had committed no evils against her on the journey, Goldwyn feared what might happen now that she was trapped with him on his estate. During his brief visits to the hospital wain, he had conducted himself in a gentlemanly fashion, inquiring of her health and making attempts at pleasant conversation. Perhaps Esarhaddon was repentant of the aggression he had shown to her in Osgiliath, though Goldwyn surmised he was a man who would not apologize for his wrongdoings unless a sword was pointed at his heart. She also doubted that a man such as he could ever truly change his ways, and beneath the new-found chivalry and concern for her wellbeing lay the same black heart tainted by avarice and lust. How miserable her days would surely be, forced to keep the company of such a villain!

Goldwyn felt the clutching coils of dread grip her stomach as the wain halted before the great arched portal in the wall which surrounded the slaver's lavish villa. The buildings within were simple yet elegant, with crisp white exteriors and roofs constructed from rusty-hued tiles. Surrounded by tall, conical shaped evergreens which rose up above the walls like dark green spears against the bright blue sky, the picturesque villa looked like it could be the subject of a fine tapestry in the hall of a wealthy lord. While most people would be pleased by such opulent surroundings, Goldwyn felt strangely disconcerted. A wicked man dwelt here, and so the appearance of his domain should be gloomy and oppressive, reflecting the darkness within his heart and the evil of the Master whom he served. She was uncertain what she had expected to see at the end of the journey, but she was not prepared for the stately beauty and exotic charm of this lavish estate set amid the green fields of Nurn. Still, a cage was a cage, no matter how elegant the ironwork, and one could suffer just as much in the fine houses of the nobility as a prisoner locked deep within the bowels of the Houses of Lamentation in Barad-dûr.

"I bid all of you welcome to the villa of Shakh Esarhaddon!" announced the leader of the small welcoming party which had gathered in the courtyard to extend the hospitality of the house to the newcomers. "I am Nobo, Chamberlain to Shakh Esarhaddon and Keeper of the Household."

As she listened to the chamberlain's speech of welcome, Goldwyn studied him with the cautious regard that a captive shows her jailer. Judging from the man's pudgy, beardless face and slightly androgenous features, she surmised that he was a eunuch, although there was always the possibility that he could have distant Númenórean ancestry. Few of the Men of Westernesse could grow facial hair due to their elven heritage, but it seemed unlikely to Goldwyn that a man from the South would be kin to them. She was always loath to compliment her enemies, but had to admit to herself that Nobo was quite handsome, with smooth, dark skin and a youthful appearance that belied the fact he was of middle years. His brown eyes seemed kind and friendly, and he possessed a dazzling smile which instantly made one feel at ease. Given his rank and various titles, she knew that he was no mere servant, but one who wielded great power and influence in the slave merchant's household. This meant that he was not to be trusted, no matter how genial he might seem.

After concluding his speech, the chamberlain addressed Goldwyn directly, beckoning her to come forth from the wain. With a snort of contempt, she gracefully descended from the carriage steps, her head held high. The wagon drivers urged their team forward, and the wain was in motion once again, conveying the remaining passengers to the nearby School of Industry.

"On behalf of the entire household of Esarhaddon uHuzzyia, I extend the warmest of welcomes to the esteemed Lady Goldwyn, the new concubine from the distant lands of the North." Pressing his hand to his heart, Nobo bowed with a grand flourish, a signal for the other servants to do the same. After completing all the prescribed formalities, the other members of the household echoed the chamberlain's words of welcome, speaking almost in unison. Goldwyn found these grand gestures of hospitality unsettling, for these people were her enemies, and she would prefer a barrier of enmity remain between them.

With a nod of approval to the servants, Nobo turned back to Goldwyn. "My lady, if you will follow me, I will escort you to your quarters."

"You mean my prison," Goldwyn muttered darkly.

Raising one eyebrow, Nobo regarded his charge with dignified incredulity. "This is not a prison, my lady. You have been assigned a lavish suite of rooms in the section of the villa reserved for the Master's family. I assure you that your chambers are quite comfortable and well-appointed; you certainly will not be staying in some dank dungeon cell." He paused for a moment, and then added with a chuckle, "For that matter, Shakh Esarhaddon does not even have a dungeon."

Goldwyn snorted in derision. "I must say that I am surprised."

"I think you will be pleasantly surprised by your new home." Nobo gave her a reassuring smile. "You must be tired from the long journey from Turkûrzgoi. If it is your desire, I can make arrangements for the evening meal to be sent to your chamber. Come, I will take you to your quarters so that you might rest."

"I have no other choice, do I?" Goldwyn shrugged. "Very well, I will follow you."

After dismissing the servants to go about their duties, Nobo led Goldwyn across the courtyard to a set of large cedar doors which were adorned with intricate scrollwork and ornate hinges. The chamberlain opened the doors, and soon Goldwyn found herself standing in a spacious entrance chamber. Frescos depicting idyllic scenes of pastoral life adorned the walls: laborers cutting wheat in the fields, shepherds tending to flocks of sheep, and a group of comely maidens stomping grapes in massive wooden barrels. While the subjects of the paintings all had pleasant expressions upon their faces, Goldwyn wondered how anyone could be happy as a slave of Mordor. An invitation from the chamberlain to wash the trail dust from her hands and face at a nearby wall fountain distracted her from her cynical musings, and she obediently complied with his wishes.

"My lady, if you will notice, two doors lead away from this chamber. The right wing of the manor is reserved for the Master's family, while the left wing is reserved for guests." Nobo gestured around at their surroundings before continuing. "I perceive that you have doubts about your life here at the Master's villa. Perhaps it would allay some of your fears if I told you more about the various members of Shakh Esarhaddon's household."

Goldwyn did not care one bit about the slaver's household, but she did not want to antagonize the chamberlain by being overtly rude to him. "Speak to me of those with whom I will be dwelling."

"You already know my name, but I shall tell you more about myself. I am a eunuch; all of the male servants in the household are, with the exception of the farm laborers and the Master's bodyguards. I have served the House of Huzziya for many years, having first come into the service of Esarhaddon's father as a young man. After the elder Huzziya passed away, I went to work for Esarhaddon as his chamberlain. My duty is to manage the affairs of the household, ensuring that the Master and his family dwell in comfort and contentment. If you have any desires or grievances regarding the management of this household or the estate, you are to come to me with your concerns, and I shall endeavor to find resolutions to these matters."

Nobo paused for a moment to allow Goldwyn to consider his words before resuming. "The Master has two wives: Lady Shumeeren of Nurn and Lady Anúrnissa of Far Harad. He also has two sons. The younger, Kabtu, lives here at the manor, while Abaru, the older, is serving an apprenticeship to a nobleman who manages a large estate to the east. Abaru will be visiting tomorrow to celebrate the return of Shakh Esarhaddon, so you will have the opportunity to make his acquaintance."

Goldwyn had no desire to become friends with anyone remotely associated with the slave trader, but she knew she was expected to be civil. "I look forward to meeting the rest of Esarhaddon's household," she replied stiffly.

Nobo seemed to brighten at her words, and his face lit up in a broad smile. "I think you will enjoy yourself here, my lady. There is so much to do and see! There are singers, musicians, and dancers to entertain you, and even a theatre group which performs skits and plays for the amusement of the Master and his household! If you wish for solace instead, there are many beautiful courtyards and gardens which soothe the spirit with their beauty, and an exquisite bathhouse where you can lounge in the relaxing steam and forget the cares of the day. The Master's wives go on frequent excursions to Turkûrzgoi, where they shop in the Great Bazaar, call on friends, or take in the sights of the city. They also visit the nearby village of Blûgund, which is well known in this area for its large grist mill and bustling market."

"Tell me more." Though Goldwyn pretended to be disinterested in the eunuch's chatter, she gave her full attention to his every word. So Esarhaddon's other women were allowed to visit nearby towns and cities? Her calculating mind turned back to Turkûrzgoi. Surely in such a large city, she would be able to break away from her guards and disappear into the crowd, becoming yet another face in a sea of many. While hiding in Turkûrzgoi was not her first choice of escape, at least she would not have to suffer the unwanted company of the slave trader. Once she got her bearings and acquired weapons and supplies for a long journey, she could try to find some way back to her homeland.

"In addition to the quarters reserved for the Shakh, his family, and his guests, this villa also houses the School of Industry, where young slave women are trained in social graces and various skills so that they will be competent servants and pleasing companions for the elite of Mordor. Because of your high station as Shakh Esarhaddon's concubine, you will not be attending school with the common students, but all of the teachers will be at your disposal." He paused and then looked at her. "Do you know how to read and write in Westron?"

"No," she admitted, "but I do know how to write in the runic script used in the Mark. My husband was a woodworker of great renown, and people came from all over the Eastfold and Anórien to purchase the furniture he made. Though he was no scholar, he had a craftsman's knowledge of reading and writing, and he taught me how to keep his ledger books."

"This is indeed good to hear!" Nobo nodded, pleased by her revelation. "So many of the students who are brought to the School of Industry know little of letters and the literary arts. A basic understanding of reading and writing will be most beneficial to you. You will be able to improve your command of Westron here, as well as learn to speak and read the languages of Mordor and Harad."

"I suppose," came Goldwyn's close-lipped reply. She could see benefits in learning languages, although she wished no knowledge of the foul orc-speech of the Black Land.

The chamberlain ushered her through the doorway that led to the family quarters, and then up a flight of stairs to the second story. They passed a number of doorways, all marked with brass lanterns supported on metal brackets. Nobo led her through an open door, and Goldwyn found herself inside a brightly lit room with windows overlooking the enormous garden which lay between the manor house and the School of Industry. The aromatic perfume of jasmine and sandalwood incense greeted her nostrils, and though the fragrance was alien to her, she did not find it unpleasant.

"This room serves as a salon for entertaining guests," Nobo informed her as he paced about the chamber, calling her attention to various features in the architecture and decorations. "You will receive a monthly allocation of coins, as well as a stipend to provide food and drink for these festive occasions."

Looking about the room, Goldwyn saw that it was cheerfully decorated. The crisp white walls were set off at the top with a border of white water lilies on a background of green. Upon the ceiling was an abstract swirl of bright colors invoking images of a flower garden, and the image was mirrored upon the floor tiles, though the pattern was smaller and the shades more subdued. A long divan upholstered in sumptuous fabric of cornflower blue had been built on either side of the room, providing seating for a goodly number of guests. Upon the floor was a large crimson rug which felt soft and plush beneath the feet.

"This room is indeed lovely," Goldwyn conceded, walking over to inspect the pair of enormous bay windows which looked out over the garden. Always watchful for opportunities to escape, she wondered if the garden could serve as a viable path to freedom. Probably not, she reflected, but one had to hold onto hope, no matter how impossible one's circumstance seemed.

"I am glad you are pleased with the salon," Nobo remarked with a cordial smile. "Now if you have seen enough of this room, we shall go into your sleeping quarters."

The bedchamber was decorated in a more peaceful style than the reception room. Descending about a foot from the ceiling was a border featuring a repeating pattern of cedar trees upon a sky blue background, sectioned off by light green curling vines which bloomed with soft pink blossoms. The top and bottom of the border was capped off by two thick bands of gold, upon which was written a continuous string of cursive writing. Another border lay close to the floor at about knee level, depicting a continuous pattern of geometrically shaped blue and white flowers with accompanying foliage. The tiles of the floor mimicked the same colors of the top border, and rugs of yellow and green leaves were spread out around the room. The ceiling was painted blue with rows of white spiraling lines, like clouds in the sky.

"Perhaps you are curious as to the meaning of the script about the borders of these two rooms." Looking up towards the ceiling, Nobo pointed his finger towards the writing on the walls. "These borders should make you feel secure, for they are words of blessing written in one of the languages of Harad. As your education progresses, you will be able to read them yourself."

"We shall see," Goldwyn remarked noncommittally, hoping that she would be able to find a way out of Nurn before she got very far in her education.

On the far wall of the chamber, there lay a large bed set within the walls of a built-in alcove. Spread over the bed was a soft blue blanket and white sheets. Colorful pillows rested against the three walls, inviting the occupant of the room to lie down and take her leisure. Nestled into the wall on either side of the door were cabinets and niches in which to store personal possessions. Other furnishings included a large wardrobe to hold gowns and fine garments, and trunks which contained spare blankets. As in the salon, two bay windows faced the courtyard. Between them was a table upon which rested a vase of fresh flowers. Other tables were scattered about the room, the largest resting in front of the alcove.

"As you can see, there is a bell cord near the window... if you have need of anything, just pull upon the cord. Shakh Esarhaddon has given you a handmaid who will tend to your needs. Her quarters are located in the small chamber near your alcove, and she will be able to hear the bell when it is rung." Stepping forward, Nobo reached for the bell cord and gave it a stout tug.

Goldwyn frowned. "I do not need a slave!" Besides abhorring the hateful practice of the Dark Land, she did not want some groveling thrall dogging her steps and constantly getting in the way. How could she ever escape if she was always being watched? Of course, she reflected grimly, perhaps that was the handmaid's true purpose: to spy on her and ensure that she did not try to flee.

"My lady, both of Shakh Esarhaddon's wives have handmaids and other servants to assist them with their needs," Nobo patiently explained. "You should not begrudge your lord's courtesy, for he only wishes that you be happy and comfortable in your new home. He is most generous, and provides well for his family. Ah, here is Raen now." The eunuch smiled as an older woman emerged from a narrow doorway beside the alcove.

"Greetings, my lady." Pressing her hand over her heart, the woman bowed low from the waist.

"Oh, please, you have no need to bow to me!" Goldwyn gasped, sputtering with outrage. How dare these horrible Southrons make this poor old woman perform a twisted parody of obeisance before her, another slave!

"Lady, I must!" the woman exclaimed as she gracefully straightened her body. "Showing respect to one's superiors in this fashion is the custom in Nurn." Raen cautiously glanced up at Goldwyn, and a soft smile played over her features. "Do not be concerned about me, my lady. I may not be as young as I once was, but I am hardly feeble; my body is hale, and my joints are not so stiff that I can no longer move about freely."

Nobo cleared his throat softly, causing both women to turn their heads in his direction. "Lady Goldwyn, I will be leaving you now to the care of your maid. There is a basin of water and towels on the table by the bed so that you may wash after your long journey." He waved a hand towards an ornately engraved brass ewer with a long, delicate spout and a wide-lipped matching bowl. "After the evening meal, you will be taken to the bathhouse, where you will enjoy the splendors of the relaxing steam. In the morrow, you will have breakfast with the Shakh, and then the Mistress of Sewing from the School of Industry will come by to take your measurements. While there are gowns in the wardrobe for your use, they will not fit as well as garments that have been specifically tailored for your body. When these appointments have concluded, I will take you on a tour of the villa. It will be quite a busy day for you!" The chamberlain bowed to her and then departed from the room.

Appalled by this new development in her situation, Goldwyn helplessly watched the eunuch's retreating form, and then turned back to stare uncomfortably at her maid. The woman, who appeared to be in her mid-sixties, had long silvery hair still streaked with the raven strands that had once covered her entire head in her youth. Wishing to be alone, Goldwyn awkwardly dismissed the maid, and then collapsed on the bed, clutching her face in her hands. As the wife of a prosperous artisan, she was accustomed to ordering servants around, but she had no use for the services of one of the enemy's slaves. No matter how subservient they acted, they probably all had hearts filled with darkness and evil. She would not be at all surprised if the old woman who had been assigned to be her maid was as cruel and wicked as a she-orc. Oh, how could she ever stand living in this horrid place, where she was surrounded by enemies and constantly at the beck and call of the despicable slave trader's lusts?!