Chapter 1: The Dangers of Procrastination

Middle-earth belongs to Tolkien. As do his plot holes. ;-)

In a severe goth-meets-steam-punk chamber in Barad Dur, Khamûl rose from his seat at the conference table, adjusted his robe and began:

"The prisoner was subjected to enhanced interrogation this morning. I think you will find my report most interesting, my lord. It would appear that around five hundred years ago, the prisoner found – and subsequently lost about seventy-seven years ago – a magic ring in the vicinity of the Gladden Fields."

Sauron, who had up to this point absentmindedly inspected a cob web hanging from the black Artex ceiling, exclaimed, "Ah, news of my ring at last! And at a most convenient time as well."

"How can you be sure it is your ring, my lord?" asked the Witch King.

"Easy as pie. If the prisoner has survived for centuries, it must be a Great Ring. The Three, the Seven and the Nine are all accounted for, ergo it must be the One. QED." Sauron leaned back smugly.

"Impressive reasoning, my lord," said the nazgûl, and, "Neatly deducted, sir," and, "QED, what does that mean?"

"Well, gentlemen, I think we ought to see to it that it returns into the right hands, don't you think?"

Approving mumbles spread around the table.

"Did the prisoner give any indication as to where he lost the ring, Khamûl?

"Better, my lord," replied Khamûl with an air of satisfaction. "He told us who has it now. Someone by the name of Baggins in a place in Eriador called the Shire. Apparently – I consulted the library at lunchtime – it is a leaderless community of ignorant, fat little peasants. We shouldn't meet with any resistance there."

"Hm." Sauron frowned. If Khamûl had hoped to receive praise for his lunchtime diligence, he was disappointed. "Didn't you say this was seventy-seven years ago, though? A lot might happen in such a time span. I mean, look at me: I got this whole place redecorated." He glanced with pride at the black and purple latex wall hangings. "So before we make any concrete plans, we need more information. Question the prisoner again tomorrow, Khamûl."

"Um, that won't be possible," said the Mouth of Sauron in quivering tones.

"Why not?"

"Because I was notified just before this meeting that the prisoner has escaped."

Sauron slowly counted to ten. Then he screamed, "Why, oh why do I have to work with such complete and utter incompetents?"

Nobody replied.

oOoOoOo

A little while later, in the Shire

"So when did you first suspect that this was the One Ring?" asked Frodo.

Gandalf sent a smoke ring floating round the chandelier. "Hm, that would have been the year we drove the Necromancer out of Mirkwood. The year of the Battle of Five Armies."

"What?" squeaked Frodo. "But that was seventy-seven years ago! That was when Bilbo first found then ring! You suspected it then? Why haven't you done anything about it in all this time?"

"Oh, you know how it is," said Gandalf, embarrassed. "At first I put it off because we had just finished a whopping adventure and I needed a bit of a holiday, and then I had tonsillitis, and then it was Figwit's Silver Wedding party, and then it kind of went out of my head. Besides," he added hastily as he nodded the rising wrath in Frodo's face," I couldn't really be sure it was the One Ring."

"Why not? You told me not five minutes ago that all the others were accounted for. Anyone with half a brain could have worked it out."

Gandalf squirmed. "Well, you know, we'd discussed it at the White Council and we'd agreed that we needn't worry, because the One Ring had fallen into the Great River."

"It fell into the river and so your White Council decided the problem was solved." Frodo turned his head aside and rolled his eyes. "You wizard types are wise indeed!"

"No need to be so sarcastic," said Gandalf. "Look, I'm sorry, I should have dealt with it earlier, but I let it slip. So, okay, I did nothing about it for years and years, decades you might even say, and now the Enemy has found out all about it and is after you. Mea culpa, but it's no use crying over spilled milk. The important thing is that you lose no time now and leave the Shire at once. I think you should go immediately. September 22nd, your and Bilbo's birthday, that's a good time to leave."

"It's April now," said Frodo. "Why should I wait five months? I think I should leave tonight!"

"If you leave now, there will be much talk about it after you're gone and it will draw attention. But if you make lengthy preparations and tell everybody that you will be leaving, that will quell any talk."

"Oh, really? I am not convinced that I want to take advice from somebody who took seventy-seven years to work out that –"

"I think you need to talk less and listen more, Frodo Baggins!" boomed Gandalf. "You are just a little hobbit and I am the mighty Gandalf. Now do as I tell you!"

oOoOoOo

A little while later at Sarn Ford

Gandalf filled his pipe for the third time and then took a deep puff. "So I want every available Ranger to patrol the borders of the Shire 24/7, do you hear? The Enemy must not find Frodo!"

"There are about forty, maybe forty-five of us who could be set on this duty. The borders of the Shire are something like five hundred miles long. It would be better use of our resources if we gathered those forty to set a watch on Frodo's house, or even better, escort him on his way. We could be in Rivendell before the end of the month."

"No! What if the servants of the Enemy attack you on the way?"

"They would have less of a chance against all forty of us together," Strider pointed out. "And if we leave within the next couple of days, we could get away long before they reach Eriador."

Gandalf shook his head and continued to smoke hectically.

"There is yet time. Frodo needs to make his preparations and I want to visit Saruman first. He usually has some nice little garden parties around this time. My heart tells me that we should go with my plan."

"What exactly is your plan, Gandalf? And what do you want me to do?"

"You should just hang around in the vicinity of Bree and if Frodo happens to come that way, you can escort him from there."

"And what if the servants of the Enemy attack us on the way?"

"You always have to nit-pick, don't you?"

oOoOoOo

A little while later in Barad Dur

Sauron welcomed the Nine as they returned from their latest scouting expedition.

"No news, my lord, I am sorry to say," said the Witch King." And I'm afraid our travels are no longer secret. The hippie wizard has seen us and no doubt will go blabbing to all his pals."

"Never mind, that doesn't matter anymore. Gentlemen, we have thrilling news. Saruman palantired me this afternoon. He says the old busybody Gandalf came to him all flustered and wittering about the One Ring. It looks like Gandalf-dear has done our work for us and found out for certain that the Baggins brat has it. Saruman has detained Gandalf in Orthanc, and the two idiots can keep each other distracted there. Oh, and Saruman also palantired me a map of the Shire, which may come in handy."

"Shall we leave for the Shire tomorrow at dawn then, my lord?" asked Khamûl, angling as usual for his boss's approval.

"There's no rush. The transport infrastructure in Middle-earth is so appalling these days that wherever the Baggins brat decides to go, it'll take him ages to get there. That is, if he goes anywhere at all. We have no reason to believe that he knows we're after him."

"But won't Gandalf suspect it and warn him? He might be able to send some kind of message from his prison in Orthanc."

Sauron raised an eyebrow. "What do you think? It took Gandalf seventy-seven years to work out what I realised in seconds. And even if Gandalf manages to get a message out, the privatisation of the postal services means that it would take months to reach the Baggins brat. No, no, we can take our time."

"Are you sure, my lord? Wouldn't it be better if –"

"Yes, yes, Khamûl, I'm sure. There's no need to leave before the end of next week. I have a golf weekend planned. The Sea of Nurn is very lovely at this time of year."

"And I have a pedicure appointment on Friday," added the Witch King. "They're quite hard to come by, you know."

"Whatever," sighed Khamûl.

oOoOoOo

Meanwhile on the pinnacle of Orthanc

'I could warn Galadriel or Elrond, possibly even both of them, telepathically that I am imprisoned here. After all, we are capable of telepathy. But my heart tells me that this is too perilous. The Enemy might have hacked into our telepathy account. I think I'd better wait. Maybe an eagle will come along and rescue me. I quite fancy an eagle ride. Yes, I'll wait."

oOoOoOo

The following week in Barad Dur

"So, let's go over this again, gentlemen. Who are you?"

"The Nine, the Ringwraiths, the nazgûl."

"And what do you do?"

"We strike lethal fear into the heart of every mortal."

"And how do you do it?"

"Um…"

"Err…"

"I know, I know, sir, we're looking really menacing!" piped up Khamûl.

"That's right," added the Witch King, "and we move about in a creepy kind of way, and sniff and hiss, like so: Sssssssssssssssssss…"

"And all mortals cower before us and do our bidding!"

"Yeah!"

"Right!"

"Unless…"

"What?" Sauron and the nazgûl turned and stared at the Mouth of Sauron.

"Unless, pardon me for pointing this out, just speaking from experience here, unless people are a bit assertive and firmly tell them No. Then the lethal nazgûl tend to back off. Or if there's a fire. Or if someone mentions the name of that star bitch or sings some Elven songs. They don't like water much either, or steep slopes… Well, it's true!"

The Mouth of Sauron looked defiant. The nazgûl shuffled their feet.

"Weeeeell," said the Witch King, "there may be one or two little things that we find a bit off-putting. But other than that, we are absolutely terrifying! And lethal!"

"Yeah!" chorused the other nazgûl. "Totally!"

"Off with you then," said Sauron. "And remember to stay on the road. I hired the horses at the standard rate, and if you take them off-road, I'll have to pay a surcharge that I'll take out of your wages."

"What if the Baggins brat leaves the road, my lord?" asked Khamûl.

"Oh, don't be silly."

oOoOoOo

Meanwhile at Isengard

'I should really kill Gandalf to make sure he can't interfere ever again. Oh, I'll do it tomorrow."