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Иногда думаю, как мог бы идти один из разговоров между Сауроном и человеком, которого он бы посчитал достойным для кольца. Then the Maia spoke again. - Your people have fear of you, don't they and you despise them for that. Behind your back they call you haughty and cold. Cruel and worse. They whisper tortures is your sport. What other vices they blame you for? - Witchcraft. Necromancy. Courtiers believe I prefer the dead to the living. Dumb peasants believe I call blizzards and plague. - Would you want to do that? The Prince cast a quick glance to the Ainu and his lips twitched slightly. - Perhaps. Faint wistful tones broke through his even voice as he apoke. - I can't blame you for that. The Ainu smiled and lowered his gaze.

Now kneel,' he ordered. As the Nazgul obeyed, Sauron removed the helmet and pulled back the black hood and gently ran his fingers through his servant's hair. 'When we parted, your hair used to be raven black, just like my kinsman Melian the maia had, now it's all grey, my love.' This time he used their mental connection to talk to the Witch-king. Knowing that his touch would deliver pleasure, he caressed the man's face. ' Poor boy, your skin is grey as well, do you know how many new lines have you gained? If you look in the mirror, you can barely recognise that young man that you used to be.' 'Am I ugly to your eye, Master?'