A/N - I know, this story really has no purpose or plot, except to slowly decrease the numbers of the Nazgul, but it's still fun anyways. (No, most of them are not dead, just unlucky thirteen - the others are captives of little kids and crazed fashion designers, or in the hospital at Barad-Dur. It actually doesn't hurt them in the least - it makes them GOOD [the horror!], or semi-insane, if they're the captives of Eowyn)

I had writer's block on this story for a long time. I am very very sorry, and will try to oblige you with a longer chapter.

Disclaimer - I am in Middle-Earth! Currently I am writing this from beside the fire at Bag-End - Bilbo, for some strange reason, has a computer. Perhaps that's because he was a house-guest at Artemis' place for quite awhile. Anyways, I am very lucky he does, because my laptop hasn't come yet (oh that postal service -_-), so I have to stay here until I get it. When it does come, I will probably begin thinking of taking my leave of the Shire, and wandering around for a few years, then picking a place to settle down and building a little house. Pippin says he's going to travel with me. I tell him that if he wants to risk getting eaten by a Balrog, he's welcome to come along. I want to spend a bit of time in Moria, chatting with Balrogs and Orcs and Cave trolls, to find out what the 'evil' side thinks.

Oh, riiiight. Nearly forgot - disclaimer - I own nothing except the tea-cosy Bilbo gave to me and the potted plant Sam gave me. I feel special. :-)

Chapter 7 - Awwww, How CUTE!

#30 to 69 continued the long dangerous journey north. There were dangers along the road, to be sure, but the Nazgul managed to elude most of them, being so small. However, one encounter with a raven left them scattered and terrified for days, and it took them a long time to regroup and continue their way north.

After many months of travelling, the little Nazgul found themselves on the vast stretch of Road between the Shire and Bree. Sniffing the air with their miniature Nazgul noses, they scented their objective perhaps a hundred metres to the east: the Ring.

Cautiously, the little fellows crept into the bushes. Swearing and cursing in muffled voices, the Nazgul forged their way through the brambles they had unwittingly clambered into and made it to their destination, where four short people with ponies were talking to a man with bright yellow boots, blue clothes and a long brown beard.

"The Ring is there!" #32 shrilled excitedly. "I can feel it!"

The short people heard him. One of them hurried over and pushed the bushes aside. His jaw dropped, then he chuckled with amusement. "Sam, Frodo, Merry: come look at this!"

The others hurried over as well. "Awwww," said one. "They're so CUTE!!"

The Nazgul knew too well what that meant.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!" they screamed as one and tried to run away.

Unfortunately, these were brambles they were 'hidden' in, and their tiny robes were impaled on the thorns. Though the Nazgul struggled hard, they could not escape. They tried everything, but still they remained stuck fast. If they hadn't been wraiths, the thorns would have impaled them as well.

"I think I'm going to keep one," said the one the Nazgul could sense the Ring in.

"Me too!" said the short person who had discovered the Nazgul.

"Me too!" said one of the other short people.

The heftier one shook his head and said firmly, "I ain't pickin' up no rabid critters. For all you know they could come from the Black Land. It's not safe. I don't trust 'em. They've got a queer look to them."

"They're too small to do much damage, Sam," assured the Ringbearer, picking up Nazgul #34 and dropping him in his pocket.

The other two, Merry and the other, also picked up Nazgul, #37 and 58.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" screamed the Nazgul. The three captives shivered with horror, but there was nothing they could do except hope the short people would be kinder masters than Sauron.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Nazgul #34 cowered in the bottom of the Ringbearer's pocket, until he looked up and realized that something large and golden was resting beside him.

"Master's Ring!" Desperately, the Nazgul began heaving at the dead-weight of the Ring, but in the pocket he could not gain a solid foothold, and besides, the Ring was extremely heavy. He strained again.

Nothing. He heaved harder.

All he gained for his effort was enough perspiration to make his grip slip, and the Ring tip over on him. He struggled to push it away from him, and finally succeeded.

Huffing and puffing, the little Nazgul was finally forced to give up any effort to steal the Ring in exhaustion.

He glared at the large gold circle beside him with hatred. It figured that the one Nazgul to get his hands on the whole point of the journey, the Ring, couldn't even lift the darn thing.

The little fellow sunk, pouting, to the bottom of the pocket, crossing his arms over his chest and grumbling noisily. Nazgul #34 had decided to begin a major sulk-fest.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Frodo," Pippin said. "Your pocket's complaining."

Sam gave Pippin an odd look and hurriedly began striding on ahead. These new creatures, he firmly believed, would bring them nothing by trouble.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"We must try to get the others back!" cried Nazgul #56 in horror. "We cannot abandon them to such a fate."

The rest of the little Nazgul nodded their heads fervently.

"We must head to the town," he continued. "Then maybe we can form a rescue plan. Sauron would not be pleased at all the losses we have suffered."

"We'd better get into Bree," decided #64, oblivious to what #56 had just said. "That's where the short people are heading."

"That's what he just said!" #64 was smacked upside the head by #32. "And they're hobbits, not short people! Weren't you listening to Sauron? Don't you listen to anyone?"

"No," #64 admitted. He was smacked upside the head again, this time by #54.

"Hey!" #64 complained. "What was that for?"

"That was for being stupid," #54 told him.

"ALL RIGHT!" bellowed #56. "Let's get going or we won't be able to get through the palisade into Bree at all!"

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The other half of the Nazgul had a much shorter journey than the others. Though it still took several days to get to the foot of the Misty Mountains, and safely past the eaves of Fangorn Forest, the little Nazgul were well on their way to Isengard until a loud banging sound startled the miniature Nazgul and they fled towards the dark forest of Fangorn.

The ground was rough, and the little Nazgul stumbled frequently, over rocks, tree-roots, twigs, their robes, and each other. The Nazgul were too terrified of the loud banging sounds issuing from Isengard to complain, however. Nor did they stop to rest or regain their bearings. Their flight was heedless and noisy. They were so small that everything seemed a threat to them, especially big noises and big creatures.

But they had barely gone a mile into the forest when the earth shook beneath them. Several Nazgul lost their balance, and the others cowered fearfully as a giant, root-like foot slammed down beside them. The small wraiths lost their composure completely and shrieked in terror.

"Hoom, hum," rumbled a great voice. "Let's not be hasty now. What have we here?"

A great, leafy hand swooped down and swept up the small, terrified, Nazgul.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

A/N- heh, heh, heh... a cliffhanger. Well, not much of one, but I'm not much of a fanfic writer. Blecch. At least I'm over my writer's block. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!