"Well, we are good, aren't we?" Raken grinned at the young woman, ignoring the knife to his chest. The knife to her throat was steady. "Kill each other? Why not? Life's pleasures are so simple, they will hardly be missed. Death can give me more." He was still smiling, a smile full of mirth that didn't fit, nothing reaching his cold eyes that seemed already dead. Mara shuddered, if barely visibly, but Raken caught it, and it made him laugh all the more.
"The Eye, eh? Who told you about that?" Raken snorted, it was stupid to ask such a question. "Of course, one of those louts," he said gesturing behind him to the dirt covered men with wild dark hair. "I have sworn my life to him. Sauron. He is the one who will give Dunlendings power. He will give us back our land. He is the Lord of the Dead, he will lay ruin to all and rise up above it. Those who stand with him will receive all glory. Those who do not, will die a thousand deaths. He is the key to life, and I have sworn my life to him. I now walk freely, with my lord behind me, and his heavanly power! All cry out in fear and anguish as he draws their blood, while I cry out in joy, in triumph! A new day will come, and the shadow will reign! I will obtain everlasting life!"
Raken finished his words in crazed crys, his eyes closed, smiling, as if savoring the words. The time would come, and even in death, he would have power. He was sure of it. His tongue now sounded so cultured, it was unnatural. Did he hide his intelligence, or was he that mad? The man lived for death and power alone. Vengeance he thrived on, murder soothed him, and his own death would not stand in the way. He truly believed that his lord would rise to unimaginable power, destroying all, then ruling all to his own accord. And then, his power would stretch beyond on the earth itself, and Melkor would be freed, and both would rule both the land of the living and the dead. Those worthy would be immortal.
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