Static-Foil

The air was heavy, but that was usual of Mordor’s atmosphere. The perpetual cloud of smog kept much of the skies above dark. Any and all light came from the all seeing eye of Sauron, blazing through the black dank. Most would be too terrified to even approach, less walk through the Black Gate. But Melle was unlike most people. Instead, she let the intimidations of the orc next to her, escorting her up to the winding halls, be what bothered her the most. For what little she could focus, he was only a few paces abreast to her to the right. Her eyes averted down. “Looks like . . . Sauron cleaned up a bit. I remember that there used

Bolg lead the carriage while Melle mentally debated about what possibly could be going on. Each bump and rocky terrain they passed, the sky through the carapace grew darker and darker, the territory of Mordor becoming more apparent. Inside the carriage, she had no one but her own company to bide her time with. “What could he want so bad of me of?” she whispered while looking down at her knees and white and green pants. Bolg had not even as so much given her time to change. She was already missing her tower in Ruhn. At least there she didn’t have to worry of any high nobles coming in with her pajamas on. But there were sure