Okay so, awhile ago I came up with this idea for a humorous Nazgûl story. (Doesn't that sound so original? *insert snark*) I've numbered the wraiths in Black Speech by way of naming them, (except for Khamûl and the Witch King) and they're listed below for reference. Anywho, here it is.

Gakh-Three

Zag-Four

Kraak-Five

Rut-Six

Udu-Seven

Ski-Eight

Krith-Nine

"Fifteen." Udu, Nazgûl number seven, called out, slapping a few dirty coins on the table around which sat seven of his fellow Ringwraith brothers.

"Fifteen minutes?" He'd have driven you into Rhûn by then." Khamûl, second-in-command, scoffed as he in turn shoved some money towards the ever-growing pile in the center. "I say ten."

'He' was the captain of the Nazgûl, the Witch King of Angmar, known as the Chief by his minions, or Witchy when they were feeling particularly irreverent.

A long favored activity of the wraiths when irrepressible bored was one they called "Captain-Baiting", more accurately summarized as "seeing-how-long-it-takes-the-Chief-to-blow-his-top". Bets were taking as to the number of minutes estimated for the Chief to erupt, the lowest bidder tasked with destroying, burning, and maiming his way through their leader's possessions. If the bidder's guesstimated time was correct, the jackpot was his, providing he could avoid being impaled with the Captain's spear. The Witch King's wrath more often flowed as ice, burning and freezing, but when extremely aggravated, fire, Mordor, and all of hell broke loose. Needless to say, eight conniving Nazgûl with nothing to do but play with danger and his temper had small work to add the figurative "last straw".

"How is ten minutes reasonable or even likely?" Ski, number eight, argued. "What if he's inspecting troops or something and doesn't return to his chambers right away?"

"It's not called gambling for nothing, knucklehead." His lieutenant growled with a dark glare at his subordinate.

"Seven." Kraak intervened confidently, sliding a generous amount of gold in front of him. "I can trash that room like nobody's business."

"Drenching everything with water doesn't exactly raise his ire to the boiling point, more like the freezing point." Nazgûl six, Rut, commented as he eyed the prize hungrily.

"Will you bid lower?" Kraak challenged, pushing his rickety wooden chair back with a smirk.

"I will." Fourth-in-command, Zag, spoke up for the first time, his normally talkative manner subdued in concentrated thought. "I say five minutes, from the time I get back until the Boss comes out. Anyone else?" He asked as silence fell upon the group, due to the fact that Zag had never won a bid before, much less gamble on such a low number.

"Bid's yours." Khamûl acquiesced with a disapproving shake of his hooded head as Zag stood up, a devilish grin crossing his face.

"That's settled then, I'll see you fellows shortly."

He disappeared, the remaining Nazgûl falling to discussing and speculating what planned course of action Zag might have in mind as they waited for his return.

"What could possibly drive the Boss into such a rage for him to set chase in just five minutes?" Gakh wondered, taking a large swig from his mug of ale. (Minas Ithil's finest!)

"Zag isn't always the sharpest, but he still has some decent ideas occasionally." Ski countered as he munched on shriveled finger he'd found on the floor.

"Oh, really?" Kraak queried with an ironical smile. "Like the time he suggested we wear hot pink robes by way of frightening the masses more than black ever could?"

"There is the disadvantage that everyone assumes you're Goth with black clothing." Udu pointed out as reasonably as one of Sauron's evil minions could.

"Wait, aren't we Goth?" Rut asked worriedly, secretly dismayed to learn his purchase of black hair spray had been in vain.

"Someone's having an identity crisis." Khamûl remarked to a passing bat. "No, we only dress entirely in black."

"Isn't that the same-?"

"Zag's back!" Krith called out, breaking off the conversation as the indicated wraith ran up.

"Start the clock!" He called as triumphantly as if the Witch King was already after him and the pile of gold his.

"It's going." Gakh replied, flipping an ancient hourglass marked with a faded '5'.

"So, Oh-Devious-One, what'd you do to the room?" Krith asked, curiosity overriding his sarcasm, as Zag leisurely stretched his arms with a self-satisfied grin.

"Patience, imp. You'll find out in exactly…four minutes."

"I still say it's crazy." Khamûl snorted. "He'll probably spend three hours concocting some exquisite torture for you."

"And you as well." Zag retorted slyly.

"Explain yourself." His lieutenant commanded. "Torture me? Me, his loyal supporter and most ardent slanderer behind his lordship's gracious back?"

"He's got 'traitor' down to a 'T'." Ski mumbled to Udu.

"That's because it starts with one."

"What I mean," Zag started slowly and deliberately, savoring each word as he would a troll shish-ka-bob. "Is that our dear, dear, captain will now, upon viewing his chambers, assume that each and every one of you took an important part in this little adventure. Therefore, prepare yourselves to run in…two minutes." He laughed as anger, concern, and fear bedecked the countenances of his companions.

"How can you be so danged sure?" Kraak demanded querulously, tightening the grip on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

"My abstinence from over-bidding has had a purpose, you know: to observe. All of you default to a certain method of destruction that pleases you best, but also distinctly marks you, which I'm sure has not escaped the vigilant Captain. I merely took advantage of this and used them all: dismembered orc limbs everywhere for Ski, rusty knives in the walls for Krith, a mini flood for Kraak…"

"You ingenious little worm!" Gakh exclaimed half in admiration and half in resentment as his sentiment was echoed in the various murmurs, hisses, and threats around him.

"So what was your 'distinguishing mark', Zag?" Udu queried in derision. "Or did you escape the storm of his impending wrath by portraying yourself as the innocent one?"

At that auspicious moment, the last grains of sand slipped through the hourglass as a great, clamorous racket was suddenly unleased that rang throughout the fortress. A high, screeching voice was steadily coming closer as it screamed profanities at its infuriating servants, heralding the Chief's imminent arrival as well as his discovery concerning the state of his bedchamber.

"I won, suckers!" Zag gloated with demonic delight as heavy footsteps approaching caused the Nazgûl to simultaneously leap from their chairs as if an elf-lord had been under them.

"Run!" Khamûl cried, pushing away the crow and humble pie he must needs eat later, as he lead the mass exodus out the back doorway. "Witchy" burst in as the last of his underlings fled, just in time to escape the well-aimed blade of their leader.

"What did you do to that room?" Udu repeated in amazement as they frantically ran from the fury of the Boss.

The woefully un-guilt-filled culprit shot a gleeful glance backward as he uttered a single word, one that would strike terror into an army of Uruk-hai, make Easterlings shudder in fear, and bring a troubled frown onto the face (if he currently possessed one) of the Dark Lord himself.

"Kitties!"

Right on cue, behind them was abruptly heard the scratching of tiny claws, yowls, mews, cries, and various other noises only an immense multitude of baby felines could produce.

"Curse you all, vermin!" The former King of Angmar wailed as he was halted in his chase, overrun by legions of furry cuteness so deadly to citizens of Mordor. "I'm allergic to adorableness!"

In spite of their own apprehension, all eight Nazgûl broke into extremely undignified snorts, evil chuckles, and plain uproarious laughter as they fled the crime scene, careful to avoid any wandering kittens.

Thoughts? Like it, hate it, send it to Mt. Doom? I planned on making this a series of nine stories of the mishaps and such that befall the wraiths. So if you have any situations you'd like to see happen to our devious nine-some, let me know! Next chapter will probably be involving a large body of water... Reviews appreciated, as always. :)

**Note** I know the wraiths don't really eat, but, hey, gotta keep up with appearances and trends, right?