A/N - I have seen a miniature Nazgul! In the Westerlee Cafe in Sayward, on Vancouver Island. It was this little clay figure, and he was holding a book! I have found the model for Nazgul #23. I'm so pleased. They really ARE cute.
I apologize once again for my lousy updating habits. I was on an HP rampage for nearly a month, thanks to Book #5, so my LoTR fics were kinda put on hold. Plus I've been camping a lot (This really has been a travelling year for me). A thousand thanks for any reviews. I really do appreciate feedback.
Disclaimer - *Empties pockets and mini-Nazgul tumbles out* aHA, I knew I owned somthing! C'mere, small Ringwraith, miniature terror of Middle-Earth...
Chapter 8 - Entdraught? How Kind!
Miniature snores were cut off abruptly from Frodo's pocket as the small Nazgul awoke, sensing something amiss. The Ring was missing. He could smell things in the air: smoke, rain, subtle power, and something far worse - someone who desperately needed a bath.
#34 poked his black-cowled head out of the hobbit's pocket.
"You draw far too much attention to yourself, mister Underhill," said a low voice on the other side of the hobbit.
"Hey!" squeaked #34. "What's going on?"
"What is that?" said the new voice. It did not belong to a hobbit.
"This?" #34 heard Frodo say. "Oh, just something I picked up on the Road." The Nazgul was lifted from the hobbit's pocket. #34 lost his balance and fell flat on his rear.
He stared up at the shadowed, weathered and dirty face above him.
"Ohhhh, it's CUTE!" said the man, grinning idiotically. "Where'd you find it? I want one!"
"There were a whole bunch of them," the hobbit said.
"It looks like a little Ringwraith, only a hundred times cuter," said the man.
"I am a Ringwraith!" yelled #34 in a fury. "A Terror of Middle-Earth! The Scourge of the Shire! The Servant of Sauron! Fear me!"
At this moment the other hobbits appeared. Sam glared at the mini-Ringwraith. Everyone else just looked at the Nazgul and said, "Awwwwwwwwww..."
#34 decided to continue his sulk-fest. Life (or unlife, as it were) was just not fair.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Hoom, hom," said the great voice, examining the small Nazgul as they cowered in the gigantic leafy palm of the Ent Treebeard, "You are very strange creatures. I have not seen your like before, but let us not be hasty. Tell me, what are you?"
"WE ARE NAZGUL!" yelled #72.
"Nazgul? You are servants of Sauron? But you are much too small. I remember the Nine Riders of Mordor from the long years of darkness, and though you bear a likeness to them, that is all."
"WE - ARE - NAZGUL!" screeched # 84. "WE GOT SPLICHED!"
"Spliched? How painful, hoom, hoom. Do not get angry, small ones, I will not hurt you. Anyways you do not appear to be dangerous! Come, I shall take you back to my Ent-house and you shall tell me your tale. Nazgul you may be, but I am not afraid of creatures so tiny."
For many long, wearying Ent-strides, Treebeard walked through Fangorn, bearing the small Ringwraiths carefully in the upturned palms of his giant hands. If they were indeed Nazgul, he would rather keep an eye on them. Besides, they were rather adorable now that they were so tiny.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
"Wake up, small ones," came Treebeard's rumbling voice. "We have arrived."
The Nazgul had fallen asleep out of boredom on the long trek, and now they tumbled out of Treebeard's hands onto a table inside a large cavern, the ceiling dappled with green and golden light. They stretched, yawned, and looked around.
"This is nicer than Minas Tirith," remarked #99 to #87. #87 nodded fervently. He had just escaped the mercies of the children of Minas Tirith, and he wasn't about to forget that place in a hurry.
"Now, let me get settled, and one of you shall tell me all that has been happening to you."
#67 began, his high, Munchkin-like voice echoing eerily around the Ent-house. When he was done, Treebeard remained silent for a few moments. "Hmmm, I was right, it seems. Trouble has again been brewing, and the Ents must protect their forests. Though we do not like to take action, it seems that we must do something if we are to survive the scourges of Saruman and the armies of Mordor. Small ones, you must be tired. Your kind always are. If you wish to take refreshment and then sleep you are welcome."
A wave of squeaking agreement sent Treebeard for a large bowl filled with a clear liquid that looked almost like water. The Nazgul gazed at it suspiciously. It looked as big as a swimming pool to them.
"It is only Entdraught," Treebeard reassured them.
Cautiously, the Nazgul jostled nearer and looked into the bowl. With a shriek as someone pushed him, #70 fell in with a splash.
"EEEEEEEEEEEEEEglub! glub!"
The little Nazgul gasped for air as he surfaced. Treading Entdraught, he beamed at his companions and squeaked, "It's GOOD!"
With yells of relief, the little Nazgul dove in.
Treebeard watched the antics of the Ringwraiths, barely managing to suppress Entish laughter. The Nazgul were certainly amusing little creatures, whatever else they might be.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
A/N - Yeah, I know it's a shorter chapter than the former one but I'm recovering from writer's block and an obsessive HP rampage, so please forgive me. If you've read OoTP, go to my friend Erenriel the Elven Canuck's story, The Tenth Ringwraith, her newest chapter, and find out what our response to it is. I'm in it - she read my mind! Plus it's funny, and we're friends so we hype each other's stories.
