Disclaimer: I don't own anything! *sob* This came out of my weird
imagination while sitting around, so I hope you enjoy it. Just random fun
with the Nazgul, who don't get enough recognition, I think!
It was a dark and stormy night. The shadows hung unnecessarily heavy, and the moon was barely a sliver. A pale glow filled the road and could be seen between the falling sheets of rain. The soft dirt that made up the road had turned into a dark brown mud, which tracked footprints well. A flash of lighting revealed a shadowed figure on a pitch-black horse. Face hidden under a cloak, the Rider's eyes could not be seen. Trudging along, the horse shook the water dripping down in to its eyes. A soft, low rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, and the soft clopping of horses hoofs on the occasional rock.
The rider slowly looked about. It was difficult to see, but something in particular caught the rider's eye. Five sets of footprints could be seen on the road ahead. Or almost on the road. The footprints seemed to wave through road and grass, as if the past travelers were heavily drunk. And the Rider thought, they probably were. Sighing to himself, he swung his left leg over the saddle and fell with a thud to the ground. His pointed boots left a heavy imprint as the mud seemed to enclose and cover it. His tall figure stooped and bent as close to the ground as wise. Examining the sets of feet, he shook his head repeatedly.
One set of tracks managed to keep enough on the road, but as he later saw, they were that of a horse or small pony. The other four varied but three were very large indeed. The last looked like the imprint of a light boot. It seems as if this one had led the animal. Annoyed that he was forced to spend an evening reading tracks in the rain, the rider stood up again and mumbled something inaudible to the beast.
The black horse neighed and allowed the Rider to mount once again. An ear- piercing shriek fell on the air, but was carried away by the wind.
He groaned slightly to himself; his master would be laughing at him now. The great and horrible Witch King of Angmar following a group of drunken hobbits, a pony, and a Ranger. What he would give to be without a body right now. His steed was quick, but short men with hairy feet and a love for weed smoking quicker. What had Middle Earth come to?
He vaguely remembered the Dark Days, when his master was in control and had a reasonable form. A great Eye. Oh yes, that's terrifying. And black riders? How unoriginal. He had enjoyed the thought of being a Balrog or a vampire. But another eternity as a scary, body-less cloak. At least the Eye had given him his Ring back. Although, now that he thought about it, immortality for a band of metal was a serious waste.
Another roar of thunder interrupted his train of thought. He realized that if he were to make any progress it would have to be soon. He kicked his trusty steed and fled off down the Road.
'If you are going to intimidate all of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth, you are going to have to move attack in the dead of night. No one would be afraid of a blind rider in the middle of the day!' He sighed as he remembered these courteous words from his master. 'Dark, stormy nights too. That'll make a good impression.' Just because HE wanted to take over the world didn't mean the Nazgul did. And more Orcs? Honestly, you'd think he wanted to lose the war.
The rain did not slacken, and neither did the rider's pace. Yet again, a shrill shriek fell on the air. The Witch King moaned. Not again. Nazgul #5 had a bad habit of tripping on small sticks, which created unwanted chaos. This always set up the alarm, and the rest of these undead men shrieked in reply. 'So much for the surprise element.' But since they couldn't sneak up on these unsuspecting travelers, they would have to use force.
Sure enough, fell voices shrieked out from every direction. Making a beeline for Amon Sul, the deadly Ringwraiths rode faster than the wind and at their masters will brought terror to every living thing within many leagues.
As if to mock these terrible beings, a flash of lightning more powerful than imaginable smote the summit of Weathertop. At once, the Nazgul brought their horses to a hasty halt. Groaning and rolling their eyes, the dismounted and bowed to the ground, and silently mounted yet again and rode off.
"His arm has indeed grown long."
The Witch King of Angmar shook his head. His master did not approve of failure and accidental "charges". Tomorrow would be no different. Another day as a bodiless demon.
It was a dark and stormy night. The shadows hung unnecessarily heavy, and the moon was barely a sliver. A pale glow filled the road and could be seen between the falling sheets of rain. The soft dirt that made up the road had turned into a dark brown mud, which tracked footprints well. A flash of lighting revealed a shadowed figure on a pitch-black horse. Face hidden under a cloak, the Rider's eyes could not be seen. Trudging along, the horse shook the water dripping down in to its eyes. A soft, low rumble of thunder could be heard in the distance, and the soft clopping of horses hoofs on the occasional rock.
The rider slowly looked about. It was difficult to see, but something in particular caught the rider's eye. Five sets of footprints could be seen on the road ahead. Or almost on the road. The footprints seemed to wave through road and grass, as if the past travelers were heavily drunk. And the Rider thought, they probably were. Sighing to himself, he swung his left leg over the saddle and fell with a thud to the ground. His pointed boots left a heavy imprint as the mud seemed to enclose and cover it. His tall figure stooped and bent as close to the ground as wise. Examining the sets of feet, he shook his head repeatedly.
One set of tracks managed to keep enough on the road, but as he later saw, they were that of a horse or small pony. The other four varied but three were very large indeed. The last looked like the imprint of a light boot. It seems as if this one had led the animal. Annoyed that he was forced to spend an evening reading tracks in the rain, the rider stood up again and mumbled something inaudible to the beast.
The black horse neighed and allowed the Rider to mount once again. An ear- piercing shriek fell on the air, but was carried away by the wind.
He groaned slightly to himself; his master would be laughing at him now. The great and horrible Witch King of Angmar following a group of drunken hobbits, a pony, and a Ranger. What he would give to be without a body right now. His steed was quick, but short men with hairy feet and a love for weed smoking quicker. What had Middle Earth come to?
He vaguely remembered the Dark Days, when his master was in control and had a reasonable form. A great Eye. Oh yes, that's terrifying. And black riders? How unoriginal. He had enjoyed the thought of being a Balrog or a vampire. But another eternity as a scary, body-less cloak. At least the Eye had given him his Ring back. Although, now that he thought about it, immortality for a band of metal was a serious waste.
Another roar of thunder interrupted his train of thought. He realized that if he were to make any progress it would have to be soon. He kicked his trusty steed and fled off down the Road.
'If you are going to intimidate all of the Free Peoples of Middle Earth, you are going to have to move attack in the dead of night. No one would be afraid of a blind rider in the middle of the day!' He sighed as he remembered these courteous words from his master. 'Dark, stormy nights too. That'll make a good impression.' Just because HE wanted to take over the world didn't mean the Nazgul did. And more Orcs? Honestly, you'd think he wanted to lose the war.
The rain did not slacken, and neither did the rider's pace. Yet again, a shrill shriek fell on the air. The Witch King moaned. Not again. Nazgul #5 had a bad habit of tripping on small sticks, which created unwanted chaos. This always set up the alarm, and the rest of these undead men shrieked in reply. 'So much for the surprise element.' But since they couldn't sneak up on these unsuspecting travelers, they would have to use force.
Sure enough, fell voices shrieked out from every direction. Making a beeline for Amon Sul, the deadly Ringwraiths rode faster than the wind and at their masters will brought terror to every living thing within many leagues.
As if to mock these terrible beings, a flash of lightning more powerful than imaginable smote the summit of Weathertop. At once, the Nazgul brought their horses to a hasty halt. Groaning and rolling their eyes, the dismounted and bowed to the ground, and silently mounted yet again and rode off.
"His arm has indeed grown long."
The Witch King of Angmar shook his head. His master did not approve of failure and accidental "charges". Tomorrow would be no different. Another day as a bodiless demon.