Summary: The Nine were Sauron's greatest, strongest and deadliest servants. They were able to kill simply by causing fear within their enemies, wielding their weapons with ease, and could not be killed. But… What are these dark creatures doing in their free time? And what if the Witch King had a 5 year old daughter? Read and find out.

A/N: This will be a collection of one-shots, which I will write along the way if I feel like it. It will always count as 'completed' because of this. Each one-shot will have a different plot, but the characters will be the same. It is based on a roleplay on the forum here, where the Witch King had a daughter, and I always wondered how they could manage to care for her while she was a child… Seeing they are Nazgul.

Warning: Some things mentioned here will not match the books and/or the movies. The names of the Nazgul were taken from a roleplaying game, but the bio doesn't match them. They were taken from the roleplay between many fellow users. Main characters will be: Jaina (daughter), Er-Murazor, Dwar, Adunaphel, Hoarmurath.

Their bios can be found here: w*ww.f*anfiction.n*et/*topic/108231/60181057/1/Character-creation (just take out the '*' symbols fanfiction is messed up with links)

Time setting: Third age, before the war for the ring.

Disclaimer: All characters belong to their respective owners. I don't own LotR. The plot of this story however is mine.

1.: Travel to the unknown

There was still peace through the lands of Middle-Earth. The villages, strongholds all bloomed with life, the forests were green, the prey was many and the waters flowed crystal clear through the valleys. You could almost see the sun smiling down at the people. Humans, elves, dwarves alike. Though, some knew the peace only lasts that long… until you look towards Mordor… where the shadows started to come to life, wanting to engulf the world once more. Something started to stir. It was faint, barely visible, but something started to rise… A foul stench of orcs, trolls and dark creatures, the smell of death and a breeze of terror. The dark army started to rebuild their lost homes, strongholds were pulled up, walls erected, and slowly, but surely, they started to seep into the greens of the world beyond the bounds of the darkness.

Sauron returned.

There was no doubt in his allies and servants. Their Dark Lord stood once more, preparing for a new, fresh start. A new chance presents itself to conquer what was rightfully his. All Middle-Earth shall fall before him on their knees and bow their head to his greatness. He stirred in the depths of his hiding, feeling the power that would help him. The power that would raise him to full potential… His ring. The only ring. The One Ring.

He still needed to locate it; it was still slumbering somewhere far away… Yet awakening slowly, calling for him, wanting to return to its Master. However, he didn't only hear the call of his artifact, but the greeting of his Nine servants, welcoming him back, and wanting to hear his command. They were all scattered through the land, maintaining the lands of their interest, wide apart. It is time to gather… Time to return to Minas Morgul.

And so, the Nine Nazgul mounted their black horses, and rode off to their old stronghold, snapping the reins to hurry and not let the Lord wait. Halfway to their destination, they met up. All Nine riding east together. The Eight following their Lord, the Witch King. Er-Murazor. The most powerful and fearless Ringwraith among them, who was chosen to lead them by Sauron himself, and voted as leader among themselves.

After a while, their fast ride became a slow walk. They slowed down their horses and followed the road leading to Minas Morgul, lined by thick foliage and massive trees. After a great silence, silent murmurs and hisses could be heard, as they were starting to converse among themselves, leaning slightly closer to each other, gesturing with their hands, mostly talking about the upcoming duties, the war, the training of troops… and the unexpected load on the Witch King's horse. A little five years old girl with blond hair and blue eyes sat in the saddle of the king in front of him, clutching her seat tightly, her curious eyes darting from one tree to another. It wasn't that they didn't know about his daughter, just that they were surprised he considered taking her with him. Well, some of them. A few knew about it, but decided to keep silent. Er-Murazor however didn't pay them any heed, but kept his invisible gaze on the road ahead, occasionally glancing down to see if his daughter was seated safely. The only one who conversed with him was Adunaphel, with whom he had been maintaining the northern lands, herding the people according how their Lord would want them to. And of course he was always there to take care of the little girl when he went out, and his daughter was quite fond of her gentle uncle. The others seemed to be indifferent towards her, or even looked at her as if she was a burden, or as a threat to a possible future title. After all, if he happened to fall, she shall take his place as the new Lord of the Nazgul, which some of the wraiths were hoping to get for themselves. They weren't too keen to have a half-Nazgul as their leader. Once he heard one of them say these exact words, the Witch King sighed silently, keeping his horse on course.

No matter how many times and when he thought of his wife, he was always indifferent. There were no feelings towards her, after all he was unable to feel them, but she seemed to feel some kind of… affection towards him. Her self-sacrifice and fierce attitude caught his attention however, and considered her as his mate or wife, after she proved herself to him. She was a quite determined human woman, who always watched his every move and took all his wishes as her command. She was a witch herself, so there were common topics to talk about. How they managed to create their child while he was a wraith, was a mystery to him though. Just like why she died just a year ago, leaving him and his brethren to take care of the little girl on their own. Their daughter inherited most of his features, like his eyes and hair as a human, also dark blood seeped through her veins, while her curious and emotional behavior came from her mother. Just like her mortality, which also made the others question his decision of making her his sole heir. The only people who seemed to support his idea were Adunaphel, Ren and Uvatha, while Dwar, Hoarmurath and Ji Indur were outright furious. Khamul and Akhorahil were silent about it.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted when he felt tugs on his dark robe and looked around sharply, expecting one of the Nazguls wanting to snap him out of it so they can talk. His anger rose slightly and gripped the reins tighter. But when he turned to either side, he couldn't find anyone. Instead, he felt the tug again from his front and looked down, seeing his daughter's big blue eyes look up at him, and one of her small hands holding the fabric of his clothing tightly, wanting to gain his attention. He didn't say a word, just stared at her, waiting for her to talk, his momentary rage vanishing as soon as it came.

She kept her gaze on him for a little while longer, then smiled at him, some kind of emotion shining in her eyes. But as usual, he wasn't too good in guessing which it could be. "Are we there yet?" Her question went unanswered by everyone but her father, as he looked ahead, concentrating on the road.

"No." Came the curt and short reply of the dark king, making sure to keep the pace of his horse even, his mind was set on their destination once again, but still keeping an ear open for the conversations going on behind him.

"And where are we going?" The girl asked, tilting her head to the side, looking up into her father's dark hood, never releasing her grip on his clothes. She didn't know where they were headed; he only told her they are going somewhere important. And if it was important, then it surely will be fun.

"Minas Morgul." Was all the king said, not looking at her, his tone monotone, completely void of any emotion. Something the girl got used to since her birth.

"And what is that?" She asked, blinking her curious eyes, raising a small eyebrow, eagerly waiting for his reply. She loved visiting new places, and this place sounded quite nice but weird at the same time.

This question made the leader think for a moment. He could tell her it was their great stronghold, one of the centers of their operation, the usual base of their kind from where they govern the troops. But he wasn't sure if she would understand, seeing she was only five. He didn't want to talk needlessly. Instead, he turned his hooded head to his right, where Adunpahel rode, his attention on the trees next to him. The assassin Nazgul always seemed to know how much to say to her, how to handle her when she was upset, and how to entertain her in certain circumstances because of the journals he kept from his own mortal life. And so it was time he helped him out once more. The Nazgul surely heard the question, but refused to answer, maybe wanting to see what the dark leader said, so the king made a slight hissing sound to make him turn and give all his attention to his daughter.

The one in question turned sharply at the call and looked at his leader, then once he nodded towards the little girl, he cleared his throat. "Ah… Well…Jaina… It is a very crowded but important place. We have been called there not long ago." He started in a whisper, not wanting to disturb the silence that suddenly fell upon the traveling group. "Orcs and trolls everywhere, large buildings… You will need to be careful there." Adunaphel refused to say more, knowing from experience that it would… frighten her or urge her to do something stupid thinking of adventure.

This wasn't really enough to answer her question, but she shrugged, thinking the other part might be too boring anyway, turning back around, she released her grip on her father's robe. She has seen orcs and the like before. They weren't that nice to her and were smelly. She didn't know why they go there now… Why can't they stay in the north, where there were only humans and just a few orcs…

The next few minutes passed in complete silence. Everyone rode either looking at the ground or the trees, some of them even took their time to start cleaning their robes for the first time in a few hundred years, trying to sweep off some odd dirt, which could be mud or very old dried blood, and a few picked leaves and blossoms from the manes of their horses.

"Are we there yet?" The little girl's –who we know now as Jaina- question cut through the silence like a sharp knife, making some of the wraiths tense up, while others just sighed heavily, clearly annoyed at the repeated question from just a few minutes ago.

"No." The quick reply came from her father again, who tightened his grip on the reins and sent a warning aura behind, just to make sure the others keep their patience in check. If they behave like this now, what will happen once they have to deal with a dozen of orcs and trolls? There were a few shifts behind him as his brethren made themselves comfortable on their horses, feeling the warning and not wanting to anger their leader, they sat in silence in their saddles once more.

Just a few more minutes later, Jaina sighed, leaning forward in the saddle just for a few moments, before leaning back once again against her father, watching the road with boredom. "Father…?" She asked, this time not looking up at him, her tone was a give-away she was rather bored, which of course the king completely missed, seeing he cannot really tell mortal emotions apart.

"No… We are not there yet." Came the firm reply from somewhere behind Er-Murazor, from the tone of voice and half-whisper he guessed it was Hoarmurath, who finally snapped and informed her of their current state of distance from their destination –as the Witch King would put it.

In return the little girl let out a heavy sigh, looking around herself, just to try and find something to do. There was really nothing much to play with. She already pretended she was the one leading the horse, and she already played with her father's clothing and the horse's mane. The way was too long and boring for her taste. Then she realized something. "Father…"

At this, almost all Nazgul let out a heavy and annoyed sigh, shifting in their own saddle, looking at each other and started murmuring, which caused the Witch King to turn his head and let out a silencing hiss. He couldn't believe how intolerant the others behaved towards his daughter. Yet again, he refused to say a word; instead he waited for her to speak again, watching the road ahead.

After a short silence, Jaina decided to speak up and continue her sentence. "…I am hungry…" Her tone was basically begging, and she made sure her father saw the look on her face. Er-Murazor guessed she was requesting food, and not just informing him about her current feelings. This was something he learned along the way, when she wouldn't stop repeating this sentence until she was fed. Same happened when she said she was 'thirsty'. Then she needed something to drink. He never understood why mortals don't simply say what they need. They always just say what they feel, something he had trouble guessing the meaning of.

"This is what we need…." Came the gruff voice of Hoarmurath from somewhere behind him once more, riding his own black horse closer to the Witch King's. "Why did you even bring her with you? Don't tell me we have to stop and hunt something… We are already late. Plus I know fully well we didn't slow down because the horses became tired, but because this… thing couldn't take the speed for too long." He commented angrily. The mage might be a loyal follower of his, but he showed his displeasure towards his daughter on the very first day they met. And he also knew why. The Nazgul wanted the position of Lord after his fall, and he took great care to show more authority in front of everyone. So, he didn't quite know when to hold his mouth frequently. Like now.

In return, Er-Murazor, as usual didn't yell back or shout, that was not his way, but kept his gaze forward on the road. The silence itself was unbearable and the tension thick in the air. The furious Nazgul was still riding beside him, his hooded head turned towards him, then lowered to Jaina, who just blinked back at her harsh uncle, but neither said a word. After half a minute of momentary peace, the Witch King turned his head towards the mage. "I have seen some blue fruit we passed a few minutes ago. They look edible."

Silence…

Complete and utter silence engulfed the forest, only the hooves of their horses pounding on the ground could be heard, as the leader and the mage locked eyes, having a quite long staring contest. The others didn't dare to talk or whisper, just looked at the two dominant Nazgul as they stared each other down. Even Adunaphel slowed his horse down; just to make sure he was way behind them… hiding behind the sturdier Dwar. Just in case a fight breaks out, he didn't want to be in the line of any blasts, curses or hits. However, he was more than sure his warrior Brother can take quite a few hits with his armor. It seemed like hours, but only a few minutes passed, and Hoarmurath broke their eye contact, snorted, then pulled on the reins of his horse, making it turn, and started galloping in the opposite direction they were heading, going back to the fruits the leader was talking about, without a word. He wasn't even out of ear-shot and the remaining Seven lesser Ringwraiths started to murmur and hiss among themselves, only to be silenced by their leader.

The ride was quiet again. Then the dark beings started to talk among themselves once more, mostly about Minas Morgul and the upcoming domination of Middle Earth, while others started to complain about having to train the army. Orcs and trolls weren't that easy to handle. They were so dumb and hard to teach sometimes, but if they wanted them to be at least somewhat deadly, they, as Sauron's most fearless servants, will have to take up preparing them. Not an easy task, but not impossible to complete. Ren and Ji Indur already volunteered for the first few dozen troops, the next will be trained by Dwar and Uvatha, while Adunaphel snatches the allies, Khamul guards the Easterling's loyalty, and Hoarmurath trains the mages. Er-Murazor will be the one who controls their actions and holds contact to their Dark Lord.

The conversation ended abruptly when the loud pounding of hooves was heard from behind them. Some did look back, while most didn't need to turn to know who completed the rather… humiliating task for their leader. The mage rode up to the king's horse, holding some blue berries in one hand with such a force, that they started to squish in his hard gauntlet, their blue juice dripping down his metal glove to the floor. The Nazgul didn't say a word, but held out the fruits to the little girl sitting in front of the lord, not at all amused and surely angry. Jaina eagerly took them, and as soon as they landed in her lap she started munching on them, chewing quickly and hungrily. The mage pulled back his hand, watching her with a mix of disgust and anger, shaking his hand to try and get rid of that blue liquid, then slowed his horse so he was riding next to Dwar and Ji Indur, silently still fuming, feeling the stabs of shame and humiliation, while the other two just stayed silent, meeting each other's gaze behind his back.

After a few hours of silent traveling the bright green forest has changed to dark rocky terrain, an indication that they are getting closer to their destination. Minas Morgul was now only a few miles away. To the five years old child, this wasn't a pleasant change. She liked the forest and the warm sunlight. She started to snuggle up to her father, sitting sideways on the saddle, sometimes burying her face into his dark clothes. The Witch King snapped out of his deep thoughts and looked down to see his daughter showing yet again some kind of confusing emotion. Mortals and their feelings… Not knowing what else to do to his trembling offspring, he let go of the reins with one hand and put it slowly on Jaina's head, stroking her hair with his thumb. This somehow always worked before. This simple gesture was enough to calm her down when she was crying, cheer her up when she was upset, or raise her happiness at any time. Just like now. The child looked up at her father, blinked and smiled, her blue eyes shining with some kind of emotion again, then buried her face back into his clothing, this time not shivering anymore. He kept his hand on her head though, just to be sure.

"Do not fear, Child." Came the cheerful voice of Adunaphel from next to them, riding closer to the father and daughter, looking ahead to inspect the road that was before them. "There is nothing to fear as long as we are around… This will be your new home."

At the last part, the little girl peeked out from Er-Murazor's robes, her big blue eyes watching her uncle, then smiled, even if it was a weak one.

Home… This word alone brought peace to her mind and made her warm inside, thinking of the older castle back in the north, where the flowers bloomed, the scent of fresh rain was blown through the land by the gentle breeze, and birds chirped happily. She closed her eyes.

So, silence fell once again over the riders. No more sounds of nature disturbed the deadly aura that was present around them. The area became more and more familiar to them; they felt their own dark soul getting stronger. Their Lord is near… and he is waiting. They soon galloped in one perfect line, the Eight behind the Witch King, their horses kicked up the heavy dust and snorted, their red eyes glinting in the darkness. Just the mere silhouette of the dark riders would be enough to send a mortal fleeing away from them, swimming in terror. Something, they were very much aware of and…

"Are we there yet?"

All that could be heard was a variety of sighs coming from the Nazguls, just as the view of their dark stronghold came into sight, partway shielded by fog, standing firmly under the full moon.

There you go. Hope you guys liked it. I enjoyed writing this.

Review if you wish.

Thank you for reading.

avpke