The Spazgul
The black riders moved slowly towards the hobbits' beds that night, each one drawing out their swords. And then, in one swift action, they plunged their swords into the blankets over and over again.
But when they pulled away the blankets to look at the dead hobbits and try to find the One Bong, they found nothing but a pile of shorn duvets and pillows. They shrieked at the trap they had fallen into and quickly fled from the inn.
Very Merry, Pipe-in and Sam trembled on Stoner's bed, trying to fall asleep, but Frieda sat wide-awake at the foot of the bed and looked at Stoner as he watched the creatures leave.
"What are they?" He asked.
Stoner looked at him sadly. "They were once men. Great kings of men. Then Sauron the Deceiver gave them nine spliffs of power. Blinded by their addictions, they took them without question. One by one falling into darkness… They are now slaves to his will. They are The Spazgul. Bongwraiths. Neither living nor dead. At all times, they feel the presence of the spliff, drawn to the power of the One. They will never stop hunting you."
And because of this, Stoner led them into the wild.
"How do we know this Stoner is a friend of Ganja?" Sam asked quietly as they plodded through the woods.
"We have no choice but to trust him," Frieda replied.
"But where is he leading us?"
"To Rivenhell, Master Ganjaleaf. To the house of Elbong."
"Did you hear that?" Sam whispered excitedly. "Rivenhell! We're going to see the elves!"