In the Wild
The wraiths pursued the hobbits relentlessly, except for a brief twenty-four hour break in which they finished off the stolen barrels of ale. They followed the foul stench of evil, stopping only to dream about what might have been had they realised that they could not just accept Sauron's powerful gifts and sell them on E-bay.
They continued on horseback for days, until the horses decided to buck them off and go to a party. The wraiths continued on foot, some hoping that the horses would return, others hoping that the foul stench was indeed coming from the Ring of Power.
"Where do you think Strider's leading them, Captain?"
"Rivendell, you twit. Where else could they possibly go?"
"Er.somewhere else?"
"Shut up, you twit."
"Why do you have to be so grouchy all the time?"
"I'm a nazgul. I am neither living nor dead. Do you know what that feels like?"
"Well."
"DO YOU?"
"Well, yes, actually. I am also a nazgul, I work for Sauron, we both do, and have been doing so together for a very long time."
"Nobody understands me." The Witch-King shook his head and turned away.
"Were you a teenage king?"
"Shut up."
Soon they approached Weathertop and decided to rest. They hadn't travelled much that day but morale was low, and the Captain was suffering from Servant Of Sauron syndrome, or SOS. (This is an interesting condition that is very common among creatures that are forced to spend extended periods of time listening to and being ordered around by an evil master, namely Sauron. Symptoms include depression, depression, and depression. Many ignorant people cannot tell the difference between SOS and depression.) The other wraiths were not so depressed as they did not have to face Sauron as much as the Captain.
"Y'know, I think I can see something."
"Good for you."
"No, something interesting."
"Ooh. Wow. Give yourself a pat on the back."
"There's a fire over there." The wraith pointed at a light near Weathertop.
The Captain jumped up.
"You can always rely on the naivety of hobbits!"
"Oh, come on boss, they're not that bad."
"No, there is nothing wrong with them, they are just very easy to track. I rather like hobbits actually; it's just that annoying business with Sauron. You know, the whole "undead servant of the Dark Lord" thing."
"Oh yeah. I know the feeling."
The wraiths approached Weathertop slowly and stealthily. Conveniently an eerie mist had begun to swirl around their feet. When they were sure that they were close enough they stood up straight and held their swords in clear view. The hobbits had just noticed them and were absolutely terrified. Everything was going spectacularly well. The hobbits stood up and ran away. The wraiths continued to walk slowly for extra effect. They soon reached the top where they found the four hobbits huddled in the open. One plucky little hobbit called Sam raised his sword, shouting "BACK YOU DEVILS!" but they easily brushed him aside. Frodo fell over backwards and cowered. They noticed as he put the Ring onto his fingers.
"Hahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaa." cackled the Captain. "You knew that the Ring would lead us to you. What makes you think that we can't see you when you put it on?"
"Well, I just kind of assumed that." Frodo began.
"That was a rhetorical question!" the Captain said patronisingly.
"Oh."
"Oh indeed. I'm going to stab you now."
"AGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The Captain's blade had penetrated deep into Frodo's shoulder.
"MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA."
"Captain?" one wraith asked.
"What?"
"You were supposed to take the Ring, not torture the Ringbearer."
"I was ordered to find the Ring and kill the one who carried it."
"Yes, but."
Suddenly there was a shout as Strider returned with a burning torch.
"YAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Oh don't be such a baby!.WAAAH!" One wraith screeched as Strider set fire to his black cloak.
"Oooohhh, that's not good, I'm not happy.RETREAT! NOW! OH, IT BURNS, IT BURNS.!" The Captain ran, as did the other wraiths.
"Well that was a complete waste of time.I lost my sword!" The Captain was very upset.
Meanwhile, Strider held up the sword and watched as it dissolved into thin air.
"He's been struck by a really crap Morgul blade. Probably got sword dust in the wound. This is beyond my skill to heal, he needs Elvish surgery."
"What's Elvish surgery?" asked Pippin, another hobbit.
"I don't know. They never let me into the operating theatre. I reckon it's the same as normal surgery but they give it a better name to make it more popular."
"Oh. Great." Pippin was not convinced that an advertising gimmick was really what Frodo needed at this crucial time.
Sensing this, Strider added, "It always works, y'know. Elrond is very good at it."
"How do you know if they never let you into the operating theatre?"
"I know many things."
"Hey, I'm kind of dying over here!" yelled Frodo impatiently.
Strider picked him up and they set out on their journey to the hospital of the elves.
The wraiths pursued the hobbits relentlessly, except for a brief twenty-four hour break in which they finished off the stolen barrels of ale. They followed the foul stench of evil, stopping only to dream about what might have been had they realised that they could not just accept Sauron's powerful gifts and sell them on E-bay.
They continued on horseback for days, until the horses decided to buck them off and go to a party. The wraiths continued on foot, some hoping that the horses would return, others hoping that the foul stench was indeed coming from the Ring of Power.
"Where do you think Strider's leading them, Captain?"
"Rivendell, you twit. Where else could they possibly go?"
"Er.somewhere else?"
"Shut up, you twit."
"Why do you have to be so grouchy all the time?"
"I'm a nazgul. I am neither living nor dead. Do you know what that feels like?"
"Well."
"DO YOU?"
"Well, yes, actually. I am also a nazgul, I work for Sauron, we both do, and have been doing so together for a very long time."
"Nobody understands me." The Witch-King shook his head and turned away.
"Were you a teenage king?"
"Shut up."
Soon they approached Weathertop and decided to rest. They hadn't travelled much that day but morale was low, and the Captain was suffering from Servant Of Sauron syndrome, or SOS. (This is an interesting condition that is very common among creatures that are forced to spend extended periods of time listening to and being ordered around by an evil master, namely Sauron. Symptoms include depression, depression, and depression. Many ignorant people cannot tell the difference between SOS and depression.) The other wraiths were not so depressed as they did not have to face Sauron as much as the Captain.
"Y'know, I think I can see something."
"Good for you."
"No, something interesting."
"Ooh. Wow. Give yourself a pat on the back."
"There's a fire over there." The wraith pointed at a light near Weathertop.
The Captain jumped up.
"You can always rely on the naivety of hobbits!"
"Oh, come on boss, they're not that bad."
"No, there is nothing wrong with them, they are just very easy to track. I rather like hobbits actually; it's just that annoying business with Sauron. You know, the whole "undead servant of the Dark Lord" thing."
"Oh yeah. I know the feeling."
The wraiths approached Weathertop slowly and stealthily. Conveniently an eerie mist had begun to swirl around their feet. When they were sure that they were close enough they stood up straight and held their swords in clear view. The hobbits had just noticed them and were absolutely terrified. Everything was going spectacularly well. The hobbits stood up and ran away. The wraiths continued to walk slowly for extra effect. They soon reached the top where they found the four hobbits huddled in the open. One plucky little hobbit called Sam raised his sword, shouting "BACK YOU DEVILS!" but they easily brushed him aside. Frodo fell over backwards and cowered. They noticed as he put the Ring onto his fingers.
"Hahahahahahahahahahaaaaaaaaaaaaa." cackled the Captain. "You knew that the Ring would lead us to you. What makes you think that we can't see you when you put it on?"
"Well, I just kind of assumed that." Frodo began.
"That was a rhetorical question!" the Captain said patronisingly.
"Oh."
"Oh indeed. I'm going to stab you now."
"AGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The Captain's blade had penetrated deep into Frodo's shoulder.
"MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA."
"Captain?" one wraith asked.
"What?"
"You were supposed to take the Ring, not torture the Ringbearer."
"I was ordered to find the Ring and kill the one who carried it."
"Yes, but."
Suddenly there was a shout as Strider returned with a burning torch.
"YAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Oh don't be such a baby!.WAAAH!" One wraith screeched as Strider set fire to his black cloak.
"Oooohhh, that's not good, I'm not happy.RETREAT! NOW! OH, IT BURNS, IT BURNS.!" The Captain ran, as did the other wraiths.
"Well that was a complete waste of time.I lost my sword!" The Captain was very upset.
Meanwhile, Strider held up the sword and watched as it dissolved into thin air.
"He's been struck by a really crap Morgul blade. Probably got sword dust in the wound. This is beyond my skill to heal, he needs Elvish surgery."
"What's Elvish surgery?" asked Pippin, another hobbit.
"I don't know. They never let me into the operating theatre. I reckon it's the same as normal surgery but they give it a better name to make it more popular."
"Oh. Great." Pippin was not convinced that an advertising gimmick was really what Frodo needed at this crucial time.
Sensing this, Strider added, "It always works, y'know. Elrond is very good at it."
"How do you know if they never let you into the operating theatre?"
"I know many things."
"Hey, I'm kind of dying over here!" yelled Frodo impatiently.
Strider picked him up and they set out on their journey to the hospital of the elves.