In Which Gandalf Gets to Know His Minions (And Would Rather Not)

The whole process of being an evil dark lord was going well, as long as Gandalf reminded himself that ultimate power was worth a lack of hygiene and intelligent conversation. Not to say that his orc minions did not try; they even had a giant chessboard on Dungeon 3. Unfortunately, the pieces were more often used to bash in the head of opponents than in play. It took guts to play Orc chess, and sometimes brains, and sometimes random appendages…

Gandalf shuddered as he realized that his train of thought was leading down a gruesome and decidedly orc-ish path. The orcs were not his style of minion. He preferred happy, harmless, fat little hobbits. With the exception of Sam (and he was not too happy at the moment), those were in short supply in Mordor.

Eventually he had to deal with the issue of his top minions, the dreaded and ghoulish Nine, the Ringwraiths, the Black Poison of Sauron's evil pla- "Ooo – kay… What's up?" One of the said dreaded Nazgul shifted its position. Gandalf was jerked out of his dark ruminations.

They were gathering in a half circle around his new throne, cowls pulled up and black robes blowing in the breeze from the window. (Gandalf had forced the rusted thing open to get rid of the orc smell, a task proving worthy of one of the Valar). He scowled at the uncomfortable wraith who had interrupted him.

"Which one are you?" he asked. "You all have dreadfully similar-looking non-existent faces. If I am supposed to rule over you, I should be able to tell you apart, so introduce yourselves."

"I'm Four."

"I'm One."

"I'm Eight."

"I'm Three."

"I'm Seven."

"I'm Nine."

"I'm Two."

"I'm Five."

Five poked the last Nazgul, who had his invisible nose stuck in a small dusty volume. He looked up (or Gandalf had to assume he did). "Oh, I'm Six."

Gandalf wanted to slap himself in frustration, but alas, 'twas not a lordly thing to do. "That helps me tremendously," he said, sarcasm dripping off his tongue. Number One – or was it Seven? – stepped forward and loomed over the new Dark Lord. Gandalf leaned back and met faintly glowing red eyes. Gandalf was not afraid! He was just naturally fidgety.

"I am One, the Witch King," the Nazgul hissed threateningly. "I am your lieutenant, the right arm of your expanding power, the bane of your enemies' existence. I will distinguish myself from my brethren if you but give me the word, Master. I will annihilate – "

"Thank you!" Gandalf cut him off quickly, and paused. "You're not speaking with that accent..."

Nazgul Four leaned in and whispered in a conspiratory manner, causing Gandalf no small discomfort, as everyone knows that the Black Breath is never pleasant. "Number One takes himself waaay too seriously. He ordered us to stop the whole thing after he found out that Number Nine ordered ushankas for us all."

"Ushanka-whas?" Gandalf coughed and waved the cheerful Nazgul away. "There's got to be a mouthwash for that!"

"It's a culture thing," Number Nine shrugged. "I thought we should really feel the parts in life we play. It's expression, man. Cowls are out, ushankas are in."

"I still don't know…"Gandalf shook his head. "Nevermind. I called you all here today to ask you some questions. I am… new, at this dark lord thing, and I want to start off on the right foot." And the right foot means buying them each a year's worth of toothpaste and mouthwash.

Number Three raised a metallic claw and twisted its cowl. "Why not the left foot? And shouldn't we start off on the wrong foot, since we are evil?"

Gandalf buried his face in his hands. "We already have," he moaned.

Number One sensed his despair and turned to the others in wrath. "You try the Master's patience! Cease thy foolish pratterings, else I banish thee to the depths of the Fell Beast Tower!" and he raised his sword, black flames running down its blade.

Gandalf let out a short, unwizardly scream (he swears it was a shout) at the sight, only to realize that the other Nazgul were not moving. This must be something that occurs often, Gandalf thought. A neat trick. I bet it looks awe-inspiring in a battle. He cleared his throat at the awkward silence that followed. One could never blame the Grey Pilgrim for this momentary loss of dignity. He was under a significant amount of stress.

Gandalf rallied at last and tried again. "What I want to ask you is… what do you do all day? I mean, I sit here and plot ways to restore Middle Earth to its former glory, but a dark lord can't do that all day. He needs a break."

Number One loomed large again, and Gandalf shrank back. "Make thy presence known in the dreamworld of the Free Children. Fill their future generations with a hopeless vision of thy mighty –"

"No. That's too evil for a break."

"Oh…"

They stared at each other until Number Six noticed the deafening silence and lifted its head from its book. "I read," it volunteered. "I suggest the same for the Master. You see, the Palantir is very useful for that. You can view entire volumes from the Minas Tirith Public Library. The only downside is the distortion of the round view screen, although it is a touchscreen. I have the orcs working on a flatter version. With your permission, I would like to call it the Mordor Fire Tablet."

Gandalf could hardly believe his ears.

Number Seven wrung his hands. "What if that name is already taken?"

Number One put a hand to his sword. "Then I will break them."

Number Five shook his head. "I don't think that's how patents and trademarks work in the civilized world."

Gandalf scowled at him. "This is Mor. Dor." he ground out.

Five nodded. "Point taken."

An Ushanka is a real thing. And Number Nine was taking the Russian flavor too far. Look it up. :) I love the Ringwraiths, and already they're starting to develop different personalities.

BrightWatcher: Why thank you! I'm glad it was successful. I think I enjoyed writing that chapter the most so far too.

EnchantedAuthoress: Not a problem at all. I think may be having trouble. My uploading has not been working the best either.