The Dark Lord certainly looked handsome, Elffled thought as she studied the beautifully illustrated tome which was displayed upon a tilted book stand for the art class to view. It was a copy of the first volume of The Circles of Arda, a Mordorian chronicle which recorded the great events of Arda through the long ages, from the world's creation to the return of Mairon the Most Admirable to the land of Mordor. She had seen the book many times before when Master Guli taught history, but its brightly colored illustrations always fascinated her.

In this particular volume, which focused upon the First Age, the Dark Lord was depicted in many forms: some stern and unyielding, others seductive and cunning, and still more terrifying to behold. The form which captured Elffled's attention the most was that of a tall, powerfully built masculine figure with amber eyes and hair the color of flame. She tried to remind herself that these were illustrations of the most evil being which currently dwelt in all of Middle-earth, but it was difficult to tear her gaze away from the darkly handsome figure depicted upon the parchment. It was said that to look into the Dark Lord's eyes was to fall under his spell, but Elffled found herself captivated by more than just his eyes.

Ever since she had observed the obscene orcish graffiti on the buildings of a nameless Gondorian hamlet, Elffled considered herself something of a critic of Mordorian art. The illustrations in The Circles of Arda were of far better quality than the scribblings of the orcs, which had depicted Sauron as a cyclops with one red eye and an enormous phallus. She far preferred this fair visage of Sauron, though she did wonder if he was as well-endowed as the orcs imagined him to be.

"The purpose of the artist is to illustrate the world we see and reproduce it on parchment, canvas, wood, stone, or whatever medium is used," Mistress Neshinara proclaimed as she addressed the class. "You can paint pictures of everything from sunsets to horses; however, it is frowned upon if you depict the Master of Arda based upon some whim or fancy of your own. We should always treat a depiction of the Master with the utmost of reverence." The art instructor reverently turned the pages of the scholarly tome. "In this illustration, you see the Master arrayed in His full battle glory, a magnificent set of full armor gleaming silver with the light reflected. This is an admirable painting, a true work of art."

Mistress Neshinara turned to a second book stand, where another book was displayed. "In this work about the history of Nurn, the illustrators have represented the Master as a great Eye which gazes protectively over a peaceful countryside with pastures, crops, orchards and vineyards. This symbolic treatment of our beloved Master depicts Him as a benevolent presence which is always watching over the land of Nurn. While this illustration does not represent the same high quality of art as the one in Circles of Arda, it is an adequate work."

As Mistress Neshinara compared and contrasted the paintings contained within the two books, Elffled reflected upon her first month at the School of Industry. Attending a school in Mordor was not as terrible and oppressive as one might imagine, although there was far too much emphasis placed upon the benevolence and majesty of the Lord of Mordor, and breaking the rules came with dire consequences. Some of the subjects she found easy, while others were more difficult. Learning to read was definitely more challenging than she had imagined. People who could read made it look so simple, as though it were no more complicated than mending a tear in a garment. But it was so difficult trying to remember what each mark meant and what sound it was supposed to make.

When it came to mathematics, Elffled felt that she was further ahead, for she already knew how to do simple equations. History was a series of interesting tales, but she was not certain which ones were lies and which were truths. In the music class, she was learning the complexities of melody, harmony, and rhythm, as well as experimenting with various musical instruments. Perhaps one day she would master the lute, and be able to play those hauntingly beautiful Haradric melodies that had captivated her on the journey. She was getting better at dance, and enjoyed learning the styles which were popular in Nurn. Because a significant portion of the populace hailed from different lands, a wide variety of styles were practiced. There were court dances and country dances; dances one could do solo, and dances that were performed in groups. In the weaving workshop, she helped craft useful cloths for the school, as well as bandages for the war effort — something which did cause her concern, but bloody wounds needed staunched, no matter which side received them.

Regarding wounds and other injuries, Elffled had decided to take the herbalism class with Mistress Me'arya, the school healer. While a part of her had wanted to take the needlework class with her sister, she could work on embroidery projects in her spare time. Elffled had little desire to become a healer herself, but she did have an interest in crafting beneficial herbal concoctions. Back in Rohan, she had often helped her mother and grandmother make salves and tinctures from herbs which grew in their garden, or plants found in nearby fields and forests. Some of the same plants that grew in Rohan also grew in Nurn, although there were quite a few that were unfamiliar to her.

The herbalism class was more exciting than she had anticipated, however. Just last week, a farm laborer had cut his arm while sharpening a plow blade, and Mistress Me'arya had to tend to his hurts. The wound required stitches, and Elffled and Rufina acted as the healer's assistants, fetching her the supplies that she needed as she cared for the wounded laborer. The man closed his eyes and gritted his teeth against the pain as the healer began to sew closed the wound. Elffled watched in fascination as the bloody gash grew smaller and smaller as Me'arya's deft hands drew the thread taut, bringing together the torn edges of the man's skin. It was sewing, but with flesh instead of cloth. Perhaps it was odd that such a gruesome process had captured her attention so, but somehow it felt good to watch the healer sew up her patient. After witnessing so much violence and death, Elffled was glad to see someone being helped instead of harmed.

After herbalism, the last class of Elffled's day was art. She was enjoying the art class so far, although she often felt out of place among her more skilled classmates. She had never really considered herself an artist; for her, painting flowers and foliage upon the walls and furniture in her family's home had been an amusing pastime and a way of bringing cheer to her humble surroundings. While she supposed that her whimsical designs could be considered a form of art, the simple adornments found in a peasant hut were far different from the grand paintings which hung in the halls of the wealthy, or the gilt-adorned illustrations which accompanied books of lore. These more formal styles were what Mistress Neshinara taught in her class, and though Elffled enjoyed learning new skills and techniques, the assignments could be challenging at times. Because of Mistress Neshinara's background as a scribal illustrator, she often had her class study the miniature paintings and illuminated letters found in books. Elffled always enjoyed looking at the pictures in the manuscripts, especially those which depicted handsome men.

"Today's assignment will be to paint the Great Eye," Mistress Neshinara announced after she had concluded her lecture. "Those of you who are in your first year at the school are to create a simple representation of this symbol of power. Second and third year students are to expand upon this image by adding further detail and including elements of symbolism in their compositions. While this assignment will not be graded, I will be assessing how well you demonstrate what you have learned in the class thus far."

Elffled felt apprehension curl about her stomach like a grasping hand, and she swallowed down a gulp of dread. While she had completed many assignments in Mistress Neshinara's class, this one was of particular importance. Elffled glanced at Rufina, whose desk was beside hers. Her friend met her gaze and gave her a reassuring smile.

As Elffled prepared her art supplies, she wondered what Elfhild was doing at that very moment. Attendance for this particular assignment was mandatory, and so Elffled was barred from seeing her sister perform in The Music of the Gods. She knew she would hear all about the play later that evening, however, most likely in excited tones and vivid detail. She was glad that Elfhild had found her niche in the theatre class. Perhaps she should have chosen theatre instead of art so she could be with her sister, but the stage did not call to her as it did to Elfhild.

Elffled stared down at the blank parchment, wondering where to begin. Though she might snicker at lewd orcish graffiti and think impure thoughts about the majestic figure depicted in The Circles of Arda, she was terrified of Sauron. Perhaps not as terrified as some; after all, there were many who refused even to say the name of the Dark Lord or the land of Mordor, lest they bring some evil down upon their heads. Elffled had always thought that this practice was rather silly; not only was it superstitious, but she felt that it granted Sauron an even greater degree of power. Still, though, she did not wish to offend the Lord of Barad-dûr or His followers, for she much desired to live.

Taking a bit of charcoal, she lightly sketched out her initial drawing upon the parchment. She was grateful that Mistress Neshinara wanted only a depiction of the Great Eye. That seemed a simple enough task; after all, the banner of Mordor was proudly displayed in every classroom, so all she had to do was copy the design on the flag. Working from light to dark, she laid out the colors of her composition: the orange and reds of the iris, the black slit of the pupil, the sable field from which the Eye gazed out balefully. She cast a furtive glance around at her fellow classmates, curious about how they had chosen to depict their subject, but not wanting Mistress Neshinara to think she was copying them. Some seemed as though they were afraid to let their brushes touch the parchment, while others took great delight in the assignment. The Rohirric maidens in the class were especially hesitant to paint a likeness of the dreaded Eye, but they dared not complain. As Elffled's gaze fell upon Rufina, she noticed that her friend's face was tense with concentration, her brow furrowed and her jaw clenched as she feverishly smeared the paint upon the canvas.

After the allotted time had passed, Mistress Neshinara went around the classroom, critiquing the work of each student. When she came to Rufina, she paused for a long moment to study her composition. Her eyes traced over the black and crimson swirls which eddied like spilt blood and liquid shadow around the flaming orb at the center of the maelstrom. Surrounded by a golden limbal ring, the Lidless Eye stood out in sharp contrast to the darker hues of the background. Veins of gold radiated outward from the vertical pupil like forks of lightning, pulsing with a fell energy through the flame-colored iris. The disconcerting image stared malevolently at any who beheld it, as though it were the eye of the Dark Lord himself.

"Excellent," Mistress Neshinara remarked, turning to Rufina with a broad smile upon her face. "Most excellent! You have managed to convey so much in such a simple illustration. Your use of scarlets and vermilions infuses your painting with vibrant color, and the rich golds you have chosen to highlight the Great Eye commands the attention of the viewer. While some students chose to depict the benevolent gaze of the watchful Eye, you have effectively captured the righteous anger of the Lord of Middle-earth as He delivers judgment to those who defy Him. This is one of your best works so far, Rufina."

Rufina bowed her head. "Thank you, Mistress." Her voice was strangely unemotional despite the high praises bestowed upon her, and her eyes stared sightlessly into space as though afflicted by temporary blindness.

Mistress Neshinara walked over to Elffled and looked down at her painting. "An admirable attempt, Fleda, although somewhat uninspired. Your illustrations of flowers are far better. While you did meet the requirements of the assignment, your painting is too similar to the banner of Mordor. It is a simple enough matter to paint what one sees, but another entirely to give a painting life. You must devote yourself to your task and endeavor to imbue your works with passion. Magnificent creations are made magnificent because they contain part of the creator's essence; the greater the work, the greater the sacrifice."

"I will try harder next time, Mistress," Elffled replied dully.

As the instructor moved onto another student, Elffled felt the paralyzing grip of dread coil about her soul. Her survival as a slave of Mordor depended upon how well she pleased her superiors. So far, this had been a relatively easy task: all she had to do was keep quiet and obey the rules. However, Mistress Neshinara was demanding more than mere obedience from her, and Elffled was not certain how she could obey this request. How could she imbue her work with passion? While she had taken great pleasure in adorning the walls and furniture of her house with traditional Rohirric designs, she was not sure if she had imbued her art with anything. Besides, this was an assignment she was required to do, not a project she had chosen for herself. And how did one quantify how much passion a work contained, anyway? Such rules were abstract and nebulous, and their perilous subjectivity could spell her doom.

After class had dismissed, Elffled left the room without speaking to anyone. She wondered if the performance of The Music of the Gods was over, and Elfhild was through with school for the day. Her pride was hurting, and she craved a sympathetic audience. She decided to go to the theatre classroom to see what was transpiring. Perhaps she would be able to catch the last part of the play.

She was forced to change her plans, however, when Rufina approached and gestured for her to follow into an empty classroom.

"I hope that Mistress Neshinara's criticisms were not too cutting," Rufina told her when they were alone. "I thought that you did a good job with your painting."

"Apparently it was not good enough for Mistress Neshinara." A note of bitterness tinged Elffled's voice. Though she did not like to admit it to herself, she felt hurt and betrayed by the teacher's assessment of her work.

Rufina gave her a sympathetic smile. "Do not get discouraged. It takes time to discern what each teacher expects of their students. When I was first brought to the school, I, too, had difficulty with Mistress Neshinara's assignments. In Rhûn, I crafted cups, bowls, basins, and other vessels, and then adorned them with traditional motifs unique to my tribe. I thought it would be easy enough to adapt my skill to other forms of art, but I soon discovered that painting and illustrating require entirely different approaches. Just because one can ride a horse does not mean that they can master riding a camel or a mûmak in an instant."

"I just do not understand what I did wrong." Elffled shook her head in dismay. "I did exactly what I was told to do – paint the Great Eye – but yet it was unacceptable."

"A good grade involves pleasing your instructors almost as much as it does mastering the subjects they teach." Rufina chuckled grimly, and then a thoughtful expression came over her face. "Since you hail from an enemy land, Mistress Neshinara might regard you with a degree of suspicion. For this reason, she may wish to present you with challenges to see how you will react."

Elffled snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "A test of loyalty, you mean."

"I suppose you could put it that way." Rufina walked over to the large bay window which looked out over the Nurnian countryside and idly traced a finger over the ornate wooden scrollwork which separated the school from the world beyond. "Out of all the instructors at the school, I would say that Mistress Neshinara is most devoted to the Lord of Mordor. To her, a depiction of the Eye is more than a mere painting or illustration, but rather an object of worship, and as such it requires solemnity and reverence."

"I wish that she had chosen a subject that was much less sacred to her!"

Rufina turned her back to the window, the filtered beams of sunlight catching her ginger hair and burnishing it with gold. "It would certainly be less pressure," she remarked with a laugh. "Evaluations are exacting enough as it is without the fear of inadvertently committing sacrilege with a misplaced brushstroke."

"I doubt that you have anything to worry about in that regard. Your painting of the Eye was skillfully done, almost frighteningly so." Elffled tried to keep envy from creeping into her voice. "It was as though I were standing before the Dark Lord in His Tower far away, enduring the fury of His gaze." A shudder forced its way down her spine, and she wrapped her arms around herself for comfort and protection.

Drawing in a deep breath and holding it for a moment, Rufina bit her lip, a soft, hesitant noise escaping her throat as she released the inhalation. "If I tell you something, do you promise not to speak a word of it to anyone?"

Sensing the solemnity of the request, Elffled glanced around cautiously to see if there were any eavesdroppers. "Of course. I will tell nary a soul."

"When Mistress Neshinara said that magnificent creations contain part of the creator's essence, she spoke true." Rufina kept her voice low, her tone measured. "She believes that passion brings life to one's art, and she praises this elusive quality in the work of her students. But passion does not always mean love and adoration. Oh no; it can mean hate as well." Her fingers tucked into fists, which she clenched lightly at her sides. "I painted out of anger, Fleda. Anger and resentment at the hateful symbol that represents all of the evils which have befallen me and my tribe. And my work was infused with that passion. This is what Mistress Neshinara saw in my painting, and she approved. Whether she could divine the true sentiment behind the passion, I know not."

Elffled was taken aback by Rufina's sudden display of emotion. The Rhûnian girl was ordinarily quite gentle and demure, her temperament warm and sweet like tea infused with honey, and her very presence could bring a sense of comforting cheer to a room. To see her simmering with barely suppressed rage was quite alarming, for it felt so out of character. Perhaps there was more to Rufina than what met the eye, and a fire as hot as her flaming red hair burnt deep within her heart. As Elffled looked uncertainly into Rufina's cold blue eyes, she felt a sense of relief that she was not the one with whom she was angry.

"Thank you for trusting me enough to confide your secrets." Elffled's words were sincere. She knew Rufina was taking a risk in being so candid. If the wrong person were to overhear… Elffled shuddered to think what could happen.

"Perhaps if you were to call upon the deepest, most secret parts of your heart whilst you paint, you could give your works that quality which Mistress Neshinara so desires." Rufina's eyes widened as inspiration struck. "I know! We could go back to the art room and you could practice painting. Since school is over for the day, no one should be there."

Soon Elffled was back in the art classroom, once again staring down at a blank piece of parchment. She looked at the banner of Mordor which hung proudly from the wall, and then back to the parchment. No inspiration came to her. How was she to infuse her work with passion, when she felt nothing at all? As she sketched the Great Eye, she tried to copy Rufina's inspiration and summon forth all of the anger which she harbored towards Mordor. She still felt nothing. Perhaps her anger had burnt out like a candle at the end of its wick. After all, she had decided long ago that it did little good to rage against circumstances which were beyond her control. She glanced back at the Eye upon the banner. What emotions did she feel? Definitely fear, but it was an ambient sense of dread as opposed to an immediate threat. Resentment, for the power that Mordor held over her life. And perhaps envy, for those who followed the Eye were those who were in power. But these were not strong emotions, like love or hate.

Elffled sighed. Perhaps it did not really matter if she filled her works with passion, as long as she could make others think they possessed this quality. After all, that was one of her survival strategies: convince her superiors that she was eager to obey their every command. She would have to study the works that impressed Mistress Neshinara and strive to make her own contributions resemble them. That was how one got ahead in Mordor: by earning the favor of those in power. If she were ever to rise above her lowly estate, she would have to adapt to this new challenge. Perhaps she lacked passion, but she had ambition and a strong desire to survive.

As Elffled toiled industriously on her second attempt to paint the Eye of Sauron, she imagined herself creating an exquisite masterpiece of great skill which would earn her the praise of the entire school. She had chosen more of a gold palate this time around, as the color represented power and wealth, two things which she, a slave, did not have. Rufina's painting had also featured gold accents, so perhaps it was an auspicious choice for success. While Elffled's original painting had featured a black background, she picked a deep crimson for her second attempt, depicting the Eye itself in hues of gold and white-hot yellow which were accentuated by vermillion streaks. Deep in concentration and wrapped up in her own thoughts, she miscalculated the direction of her arm as she reached for the pot of gold paint. Her elbow bumped the pot of red, knocking it over and sending the paint flowing out in a crimson wave across the table.

"Oh no, oh no, oh no," Elffled moaned, frantically trying to sop up the paint with a cleaning cloth while pushing everything of value away from the spill. Fortunately, the flow of crimson had gone the opposite direction from her painting, but she still moved the parchment far from the spreading puddle. Grabbing a stack of rags from a nearby cabinet, Rufina rushed to her aid. The table was protected by a wax cloth, but the overturned paint pot still created a catastrophic mess which both girls endeavored to contain.

"Well, at least my painting was not in the path of the spill," Elffled remarked as Rufina gathered up the paint-soaked rags. "Unfortunately, I cannot count myself so lucky." She peered down at the red paint which was splattered over her apron and upon her hands and forearms. "Red like blood," she mused to herself. "Red like the Eye."

"It would have been terrible if your painting had been harmed," Rufina commiserated. "Mistress Neshinara would be terribly wroth to learn that you had defaced an image of the Great Eye. Why, she might even explode like the Mountain of Doom!" Although Rufina's eyes twinkled with mischief, there was a glint of fear there as well.

Elffled walked over to the wash basin in the corner of the classroom and tried to scrub the paint off her arms and hands. "I think I have painted enough for the day," she sighed. "I am not certain if I did any better than my first attempt."

"Your second painting looks better than your first. The use of more vivid colors makes the subject of the work really stand out," Rufina told her, sounding like an art instructor herself with her words of encouragement. "Since Mistress Neshinara's criticism of your first piece was that it looked too much like a flag, I think that she would have preferred this one. But take heart; practice makes perfect."

"I certainly hope so," Elffled muttered as she washed her hands for a third time. No matter how hard she scrubbed, she could not completely rid her fingers of the crimson stain.

By the time that Elffled and Rufina had cleaned up the spilled paint and returned all the art supplies to their proper places, the supper hour had arrived. Since the theatre class was celebrating the successful production of The Music of the Gods, Elffled took the evening meal with Rufina. As they dined upon roasted aubergine and lentil soup, she asked her friend questions about her life in Rhûn. She was fascinated by the tales that Rufina told about the various tribes of the Wagnsthiuda and the doomed city of Ahwahaims. Even though Rufina came from a different culture, there were similarities between the tribes of western Rhûn and the Rohirrim. Both peoples dwelt in regions with rolling plains and flatlands, and horses were of vital importance to their respective cultures, serving as both beasts of burden and beasts of war.

When the meal was over, Elffled took her leave of Rufina and set off in search for her sister. When she reached the tables reserved for the theatre students, she discovered that most of them had already dispersed amongst the crowd in the great hall. While the school seemed immense at times, Elffled knew that there were only so many places that her sister could be. She decided to go to the courtyard garden, as that was the most popular place for students to gather during the period which followed the evening meal and preceded the summons to bath and bed.

"Elfhild! I have been looking everywhere for you!" Elffled exclaimed as she found her sister sitting upon a bench situated beneath the low, spreading boughs of a pair of olive trees. "How did the play go? Was Mistress Sa-li pleased with your performance?"

"I do not know how pleased she was with my fiddle playing, although it was meant to be awful," Elfhild laughed. "At least no one in the class threw rotten fruit at me – although I would not blame them at all if they did!"

"I wish I could have seen it, but I was busy with an assignment for the art class," Elffled remarked apologetically as she sat down beside her twin.

"Perhaps Mistress Sa-li will have us perform it again sometime in the future, and you will be able to attend." Elfhild looked hopeful. "What did you do in art today?"

"We painted a picture of the Great Eye," Elffled replied with a grimace. "Unfortunately, Mistress Neshinara was not pleased with my work. I took my inspiration from the banner of Mordor, but apparently my painting was not creative enough for her."

"Oh no!" Worry and sympathy clouded Elfhild's face. "You are not in trouble, are you?"

"No… she said I should try harder in the future, however."

"Oh, thank goodness. I understand that she can be quite the zealot at times." Elfhild had been told much about the teacher of the art class. She understood that Mistress Neshinara was a very devoted follower of the Dark Lord, and when she was not talking about art, she was waxing eloquent upon the majesty of Sauron.

"Mistress Neshinara is a good teacher, though, no matter who she serves," Elffled conceded. "I have learned much about painting and illustration in her class."

Elfhild moved closer to her sister and lowered her voice. "Does it seem peculiar to you, to be around all these people who so lovingly speak of the Dark Lord? Everyone is so courteous and polite around here, but yet they speak of the most evil being upon all of Middle-earth with naught but reverence and awe. It just feels wrong."

"Shhh, do not speak so loud." Elffled put a finger to her lips. "So far you have not gotten into trouble once in the month we have been living here; an amazing feat for you."

Elfhild rolled her eyes and glared at her sister. "It just seems strange, that is all. We grew up upon tales that Mordor was a place of great evil, and while Gorgoroth is a desolate, brooding land, this part of Nurn is covered with beautiful crops and pasturelands, orchards and vineyards."

"Elfhild, you should not speak this way! What if someone were lurking about, listening to everything we say?" Heeding her own fears, Elffled twisted around in her seat to make sure that there was no one behind them.

"Why would anyone eavesdrop upon our conversations?" Elfhild looked pained. "We are not important enough for spies to be following us, listening to our every word."

"My dear sister," Elffled reached out and lay her hand on Elfhild's arm, "do you not remember all the warnings we have been given about those who break the rules of the school or disobey the laws of Mordor? Do you not remember the fate of poor Ceolwen? She kept speaking out in defiance of the rules. After being warned three times, the guards took her away and no one knows what happened to her."

"Of course I have not forgotten about Ceolwen." Elfhild thought she saw a movement in a nearby bush and quickly lowered her voice again. Perhaps it was a bird, or one of the many cats that lived at the villa. Her sister's fear had been contagious, though, and now she was jumping at every noise. She sighed heavily. "I remember the way it was at home when we could say anything we wanted without being afraid. I miss that so much!"

"Unfortunately, we are no longer in the Mark and now we must watch our backs," Elffled warned, her voice grave. "I think we will do well here, though, if we are careful. At least life at the school is better than marching through the wastes."

"Oh, most definitely." Elfhild nodded her head emphatically. "But yet it is not the Mark, the land of our birth, the land which will always be our home." She sighed again and looked away. "I... I guess I have been in a sentimental mood of late, thinking of our past and our present, and how our lives could have been, and how different they have become."

A melancholy smile of understanding tugged at the corner of Elffled's lips. "You are homesick."

"I have been homesick for months… both for our home, and the people who once dwelt there." Elfhild leaned forward, her forearms resting on her thighs as she stared down at the ground. "On the journey, I was always too tired or intimidated to think much about it. Now, though... School keeps me busy, but in quiet moments my mind oft turns towards the past. This week has been a reprieve, because I was so focused upon my role in Music of the Gods that I could think of naught else." She straightened her back and glanced over at Elffled. "Perhaps this gloom has come upon me because the play is over."

"I understand that there will be a much larger performance in the spring," Elffled offered, attempting to lift her twin's downhearted spirits. "You can look forward to that, as well as practicing all autumn and winter."

Elfhild seemed comforted by these words, and her mood lightened considerably. "Mistress Sa-li announced that auditions will be held next week. I am not sure yet what role interests me the most, however. The list of parts needed for the play was quite long, and included both major roles and minor ones."

Elffled smiled at the return of her sister's enthusiasm. "Whatever part you choose, I am sure that you will do wonderfully. Now tell me more about The Music of the Gods."