At the gates
It was three days after the conversation between Sauron and the dissatisfied wraith. Sauron had ordered him to find the Ring and kill the ones who carried it, but the wraith was taking his time. As he wandered through the Black Gate, with his black skateboard under his black arm, a thought crossed his black mind. Surely Sauron would not notice if he "lost" his brand new skateboard? And, after all, another little argument with the Dark Lord would be nothing compared to the awesome humiliation of attempting to look menacing whilst riding a child's toy.
He continued to wander until he bumped into a young orc. It was looking rather lost and dejected.
"Hey, you! What's the matter?" The wraith was not known for his kindness but he wanted the little orc to talk to him.
"Sauron decapitated my Daddy!" it wailed. "And my Daddy didn't even do anything! Why is Sauron so mean?"
The orc promptly burst into tears.
"Hmm." The wraith felt a powerful sensation. Was it pity? No, it was hilarity.
The orc continued to sob.
"Would you like a new skateboard?" asked the wraith. This seemed as good an opportunity as any.
"Not really, no." The orc sobbed again.
"Are you sure?" This was very irritating.
"Yes."
"Positive?"
"GO AWAY!" It wailed loudly.
"Shut up! Now, what would you like?" The wraith was determined to get the orc to accept the skateboard.
"I want my Daddy back!" The sobbing continued.
"Well, if you take this skateboard from me and burn it I could give you your Daddy's head." (To you or I this may seem a little morbid, but we must remember what these creatures are.)
"Really? You'd give me Daddy's head?" It sniffed and looked up hopefully.
"Yes, if you burn this skateboard." The tedium of this conversation was starting to eat away at the wraith's sanity.
"Yay! Give me the skateboard then!" It jumped up suddenly, overcome by a sense of joy. It fell down again even more suddenly. There was an arrow protruding from its ugly head. The wraith looked around but could see nobody.
"Damn! I'll have to burn it myself," the wraith groaned. He had wasted enough time already.
"DEAD BOY.!" Sauron's distant voice echoed through the Black Gate.
"He can see me. I forgot about that." The wraith kicked himself and went to find his menacing looking horse.
It is a little known fact that all menacing looking horses must be properly trained before they are employed in Mordor. An ordinary black horse would most certainly not be menacing enough; it could quite easily be mistaken for the lovable horse, Black Beauty. So, horses must be found, interviewed, and entered into a training scheme before signing a three hundred year contract. It is quite rewarding for these horses; they are well fed, educated in the Dark Arts, and above all, most of them feel as though they have made something of their lives. Unfortunately these horses are usually the ones who have never heard of Rohan, and there is a very high suicide rate among the horses that realise that they have signed their lives away.
This wraith's horse had heard of Rohan but her family had served Sauron for centuries. She was born and raised evil, which was rather convenient really. A suicidal horse can have an annoying tendency to delay journeys.
"Hello Horsey Worsey!" Even ringwraiths can be sentimental sometimes. The horse whinnied. She took the black skateboard in her black teeth (evil dentists were few and far between), dropped it on the floor, and crushed it with her black hooves.
The wraith gave a sigh of relief.
"We're going on a trip, oh yes we are!" He stroked his horse affectionately. She nuzzled what should have been his face before stamping on his black feet.
"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHH!!!!!" He slapped her round the face and mounted. He could not expect an evil horse to be nice to him; it was an absurd notion. They rode off into the black night, finally rid of the offending skateboard.
It was three days after the conversation between Sauron and the dissatisfied wraith. Sauron had ordered him to find the Ring and kill the ones who carried it, but the wraith was taking his time. As he wandered through the Black Gate, with his black skateboard under his black arm, a thought crossed his black mind. Surely Sauron would not notice if he "lost" his brand new skateboard? And, after all, another little argument with the Dark Lord would be nothing compared to the awesome humiliation of attempting to look menacing whilst riding a child's toy.
He continued to wander until he bumped into a young orc. It was looking rather lost and dejected.
"Hey, you! What's the matter?" The wraith was not known for his kindness but he wanted the little orc to talk to him.
"Sauron decapitated my Daddy!" it wailed. "And my Daddy didn't even do anything! Why is Sauron so mean?"
The orc promptly burst into tears.
"Hmm." The wraith felt a powerful sensation. Was it pity? No, it was hilarity.
The orc continued to sob.
"Would you like a new skateboard?" asked the wraith. This seemed as good an opportunity as any.
"Not really, no." The orc sobbed again.
"Are you sure?" This was very irritating.
"Yes."
"Positive?"
"GO AWAY!" It wailed loudly.
"Shut up! Now, what would you like?" The wraith was determined to get the orc to accept the skateboard.
"I want my Daddy back!" The sobbing continued.
"Well, if you take this skateboard from me and burn it I could give you your Daddy's head." (To you or I this may seem a little morbid, but we must remember what these creatures are.)
"Really? You'd give me Daddy's head?" It sniffed and looked up hopefully.
"Yes, if you burn this skateboard." The tedium of this conversation was starting to eat away at the wraith's sanity.
"Yay! Give me the skateboard then!" It jumped up suddenly, overcome by a sense of joy. It fell down again even more suddenly. There was an arrow protruding from its ugly head. The wraith looked around but could see nobody.
"Damn! I'll have to burn it myself," the wraith groaned. He had wasted enough time already.
"DEAD BOY.!" Sauron's distant voice echoed through the Black Gate.
"He can see me. I forgot about that." The wraith kicked himself and went to find his menacing looking horse.
It is a little known fact that all menacing looking horses must be properly trained before they are employed in Mordor. An ordinary black horse would most certainly not be menacing enough; it could quite easily be mistaken for the lovable horse, Black Beauty. So, horses must be found, interviewed, and entered into a training scheme before signing a three hundred year contract. It is quite rewarding for these horses; they are well fed, educated in the Dark Arts, and above all, most of them feel as though they have made something of their lives. Unfortunately these horses are usually the ones who have never heard of Rohan, and there is a very high suicide rate among the horses that realise that they have signed their lives away.
This wraith's horse had heard of Rohan but her family had served Sauron for centuries. She was born and raised evil, which was rather convenient really. A suicidal horse can have an annoying tendency to delay journeys.
"Hello Horsey Worsey!" Even ringwraiths can be sentimental sometimes. The horse whinnied. She took the black skateboard in her black teeth (evil dentists were few and far between), dropped it on the floor, and crushed it with her black hooves.
The wraith gave a sigh of relief.
"We're going on a trip, oh yes we are!" He stroked his horse affectionately. She nuzzled what should have been his face before stamping on his black feet.
"AAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHH!!!!!" He slapped her round the face and mounted. He could not expect an evil horse to be nice to him; it was an absurd notion. They rode off into the black night, finally rid of the offending skateboard.