Disclaimer: Alright, what gave you the idea that I owned LOTR? I wish!
Those degenerate men dared to challenge the might of Mordor, of impregnable Barad-dur? They would be destroyed. They would crumble under the tokens the Mouth was bidden to show them. They would die, and I would conquer the world, and what they had taken in their insolence would be mine again forever. Indeed, it would be so easy it didn't even need my supervision.
I looked, bored, at the barren landscape of Mordor – and saw a halfling.
What was a halfling doing here? I stared at him, scrutinizing him, entering the dim halls of his mind. Faintly aware of his body falling, I scanned his thoughts. But his thoughts were faint, slow and insignificant:
'…tired…thirsty…no…go on…must…so tired…'
Impatient, I headed down the dark corridors to the room of his memories – only to find their chamber locked.
WHAT?
After a moment, I figured it out. He was too tired to remember them.
For a moment, I started to look away. After all, what could an insignificant Shire rat do to ME, the Dark Lord of Mordor? But curiosity drove me to look back.
I entered his mind again and began clumsy attempts to cut the lock. I knew I could just get some orc to come give him strength, but pride stopped me. He was the enemy, and I would not stoop so low as to help him.
Suddenly the part of me that had been unconsciously watching the 'battle' shocked me with the information that the Mouth was dead.
How dare they! He was my most useful slave! He was actually smart, and he always obeyed me! Furious, I turned back to watching the grime of Gondor, not knowing that I was making possibly the greatest mistake of my life.