Author's Note: It's taken me longer to get this out than I had hoped, but the distraction (a wonderful conference) was completely worth the delay. I hope to find a way to turn that experience into a chapter as well, though I won't make any promises. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this one; it was quite a bit of fun to compose.

. . .

As has been previously stated, Estel is not the kind of person who usually screams. But there are extremely rare cases, such as on roller coasters or when attending a sports game, when she will oblige. In the dark of night, as she drove home from her kind hosts' apartment where she had just finished watching the Super Bowl, she let her tongue loose.

Manning and his Broncos has done it! Against all she had been fearing, they had won the Super Bowl! Thalion didn't know when she would get a chance to soak in the glory of winning a championship again, so she let herself freely scream and cheer and pour out all the glories that come with victory. Little did she know that doom and darkness awaited her return.

. . .

The two new orcs who had been assigned to the Snaga team were not exactly all about teamwork. Right from the beginning, Snaga 1 and Snaga 3 had felt uneasy when Sauron had selected bigger orcs from another breed to accompany them, but as time had gone, relations had only gotten worse. And if the new orcs had successfully asserted their prowess in their code names alone, there was no knowing how fearsome they would be if squabbling came about.

"Hurry up, you worthless maggots," Snaga 6.023*10^23 demanded, increasing his jogging to an all-out run. Yes, the troop that this particular orc came from did dabble in chemistry from time to time.

"Shut up!" called Snaga 1, who was barely managing to keep up. "No one made you the boss."

"No one needs to," Snaga 299,792,458m/s retorted, passing the slower orcs and catching up with his kinsman. "You were bred to be lower, filthy scum!"

Snaga 1 and Snaga 3 didn't really appreciate this description of their kind, and they were more than tempted to catch up and drive their swords right through their companions' backs. But then they would have to bother Sauron about getting replacements again, and he might just snap and kill the lot of them, sending the Nazgûl to do the job instead. So it was that with a great show of restraint, the two original Snagas kept their murderous desires at bay, resort to quiet cursing under their breath.

Suddenly a gravelly, broken sound broke the night's silence, and Snaga 299,792,458m/s ripped a walky-talky out of his bag, holding it out so that the voice from the other end was clear. Unfortunately, Snaga 1 and Snaga 3 were too far back to hear what was going on, and so when they caught up, they had no idea what had been commanded.

"What's the message?" Snaga 3 panted, skidding to a halt beside the two new Snagas. "Do we go through with it?"

"Yes," growled Snaga 6.023*10^23. "Nothing could stop the Denver defense; that writer's probably bouncing off the walls."

"How could Sauron 'imself fail to stop a group of mortals?" asked Snaga 1 in exasperation. "He insisted 'e could handle it himself."

Snaga 299,792,458m/s shrugged. "It's not easy to be stealthy in the Super Bowl," he reminded. "The halftime show would be the only time his evil could be on the field unnoticed."

"It doesn't matter!" Snaga 6.023*10^23 yelled. "We just need to deal with things now. The writer's happy; we'll 'ave to fix that."

The orcs continued grumbling amongst themselves, but they all knew what they had to do. Without any other formal declaration, they continued on their way down the paths of Estel's apartment towards their objective. A few minutes later, they reached the designated parking spot and found their instrument of evil waiting there for them, causing all four orcs to grin with evil anticipation.

In truth, it was an object which would cause anyone with taste in automobiles to smile. Thalion still isn't sure what year it was from, but it was either from this year or last. It was a beautiful, pure-white, brand-new, fast-back Ford Mustang. It was sleek and awesome, causing Estel indescribable anxiety as she had to pull in next to it every day, always afraid she would scratch its flawless sides. The only mar on the car was the sticker for a certain less-than-admirable candidate slapped onto the back window, like pinning a cockroach body onto the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel.

The orcs looked at their vehicle of destruction (pun intended), and then after assuring that the coast was clear, they began the process of breaking into the car. This was not too hard considering they had raided a lock smith's store a few hours before, but it still caused a great deal of noise as they argued with one another. Finally, they managed to get the driver's door open.

"What do ya think you're doing?" demanded Snaga 3 angrily when he saw Snaga 6.023*10^23 climbing in behind the wheel. "I'm the one who had the brains to open the cursed door. I get to drive."

"You?" laughed Snaga 6.023*10^23, his cackling voice hitching on the disgustingness of his throat. "You couldn't pilot the runt of a warg litter, and you want to drive a car?"

Snaga 3, with Snaga 1 banding to his cause, remained stubborn and unyielding, his malformed hand reaching for the hilt at his belt. "Shut your yap or I'll stick you good," he threatened, however hollowly.

Things might have become violent among the orcs at that moment had not the sound running from one pair of mortally fashioned boots joined with another pair clearly of dwarven craft begun echoing down the sidewalk from several yards away. Glancing up, the orcs shrieked in surprise to see three figures closing in on their location at a solid run. To the sound of mortal boots belonged a tall man, to the pair of dwarven boots belonged a stout and strong dwarf, and to the silent shoes that no mortal can hear belonged a graceful elf.

"Get in!" yelled Snaga 299,792,458m/s to his companions, following his own warning by diving into the passenger seat as quickly as he could. The other orcs followed his example, resulting in both Snaga 3 and Snaga 6.023*10^23 cramming into the driver's side at the same moment. There was no time to argue, so amid cursing and squirming, the counterfeit key was jammed into the car and the engine roared to life.

The Three Hunters, however, reached the car before it could quite pull out of its parking spot. Aragorn tried to leap into the driver's seat, smashing the window and managing to grasp hold of the wheel. But since the seat was already more than full of orcs, he couldn't settle into the spot as he had hoped. He did keep himself on the car, half his body hanging out of the window as the car began speeding down the street. Legolas nimbly leapt atop the car's hood, effectively blocking the orcs' view of the road, though Aragorn was making their steering nearly impossible anyway. Just before it drove out of reach, Gimli imbedded his ax into the car's back, giving him a handle on which to cling.

So it was that the car, filled with four orcs and covered in three non-orcs, careened dangerously down the narrow streets of Estel's apartment. Aragorn's grip on the wheel was not stable by any means, causing the vehicle to swerve back and forth. However, the orcs still had enough control to generally steer towards their objective: the entrance where Estel would soon drive home. And even though this was not an ideal situation for the Snagas, it shouldn't keep them from accomplishing their mission.

A car wreck didn't need to be skillfully set up, after all.

But Aragorn knew much about the nature of orcs and their schemes, and that was why he went for the wheel. His body scraping against shards of the glass window, he tried to inch further into the car. Snaga 3 attempted to draw his blade, but he was so smashed against Snaga 6.023*10^23 that he couldn't get to it. He resorted to throwing blind punches, some of which found their mark. This only incurred the further wrath of the ranger, who could not let go of the wheel and thus resorted to using his head to smack the sense out of the orc.

Gimli inched up the back of the car, another ax in hand, until he had reached the window, which he proceeded to bash with his weapon. But Snaga 1, sitting in the tiny backseat, grabbed the ax head, though it cut his hands, and tried to use leverage to push Gimli off the car. Meanwhile, Legolas was busy looking as cool as he could, his hair dramatically streaming in the wind, watching for Thalion's approach.

Finally, headlights appeared from the apartment's entrance, and all seven combatants quickly looked up (except Legolas, of course) as the light shone on them. The two Snagas in the driver seat madly attempted to turn the wheel so that the car would slam into the oncoming writer, but Aragorn fought just as hard. With one last desperate effort, the ranger reached across the orcs as far as he could and pulled the wheel down so that it swerved hard to the right, just missing the front of Estel's vehicle, which had swerved the opposite direction and actually driven up on the curb.

"Nan barad!" Aragorn called in Sindarin, signaling for his companions to cease their attacks. This phrase wasn't very relevant to the actual action it initiated, but Legolas had suggested beforehand that they use code words from the movies, and after a forty-five minute argument between the said Elf and Gimli, the term had been agreed upon.

Just as the words left the ranger's mouth, the orc grappling with the ax head managed to smash Gimli in the forehead with the end of the weapon the Dwarf was holding, causing him to tumble off the car and fall hard onto the asphalt with a thud and plenty of groans. Legolas leapt from the hood in a manner harkening to elven grace (and overused CGI). Aragorn simply let the wheel go and pushed off the car so that when he rolled onto the road, he didn't get run over.

As soon as the heir of Isildur had released the wheel, the car swerved to the other side of the road since the orcs had still been pulling hard against Aragorn's force. With screams, curses, and howls of fear, the quartet of Snagas plowed straight into a palm tree, causing the hood to cringle and the airbags to fly out.

"A pale moon rises," Legolas said very eerily. "Cars have been wrecked this night."

"Thanks for that, Elf," Gimli growled in annoyance as he sat up from his collapsed heap. "You've been awfully movie-verse lately, you know that?"

"Are you both alright?" inquired the ranger, standing up and brushing his scraped arms free of dirt.

"I am unscathed," Legolas answered, finally walking over to help Gimli,

"Of course you are!" the dwarf growled as his friend dragged him to his feet. "You didn't do anything!"

"At least I didn't end up looking like a carcass," answered the Elf, putting on an expression of superiority with just a hint of jest visible in his shining eyes.

"What of the orcs?" Gimli said, changing the subject for his own sake but making a valid point.

Aragorn quickly jogged over to the destroyed vehicle, sword drawn, to inspect the wreck. But whether it was a blessing or curse, it was now empty. Distant footsteps could barely be heard running away, and the ranger didn't have it in him to make an attempt at pursuit. He'd already had enough orc-chasing for even an elven lifetime, not to mention his mortal one.

"They've fled," he informed his companions, looking over the demolished mustang with a sad sigh. "Now we've got to clean this up."

This was far easier said than done, and indeed it would have been impossible for Aragorn to have convinced the others to go about the task had not the circumstances been so favorable. Gimli, of course, is a master mechanic, and anything that the Dwarf excels at is always challenged by the Elf. So their competition spurred the job on quickly, and when at last their labor was complete, Gimli had proven the dwarves to be a skilled people. Even the owner would probably not know anything had ever happened, except perhaps that the vehicle was cleaner.

The Three Hunters drove the mustang back to its parking space at about midnight, very sorry that they had not been given the opportunity to really drive it around. When it was carefully pulled into its place, Aragorn kindly suggested that they completely disrupt Estel's evening in order to get something from her to eat. The other heartily agreed, and hearing Thalion speaking on the phone in her outdoor balcony, they made their way up.

"…I just can't believe he would do that on national television!" Estel marveled to the person on the other line, oblivious to her new companions. "He looked like a toddler in the middle of a tantrum! The refs were totally right; there was no flag. He has entitlement issues, and—" the writer stopped, suddenly catching sight of the bright elven eyes of Legolas (which were definitely not designed for stealth) and having a mini heart attack. "Actually, can I call you back?" she tried to recover after a moment. "Yeah; okay. Bye."

As soon as the call was ended, Thalion gave her muses both a stern rebuke and warm welcome all at once. "What is it? Why are you interrupting me? Guys; Manning won the Super Bowl!"

"That is well," the ranger affirmed with a small nod. "Do you have anything for us to eat?"

The writer glared mildly. "Well? That's all you have to say about this: well?" I may as well not give you any food!"

"We've earned it," demanded a very hungry Gimli. "We have labored all evening for no sake other than yours."

Thalion was momentarily taken aback. "Really?" she asked, feeling a big humbled. "Thanks, I guess."

Being the kind, charitable person that she is, Estel yielded to her muses' pleas and led them into the kitchen, which was empty because of the late hour, to get them some tortillas (an item always kept in plentitude because Thalion is Texan to her core). As the three members of three races sat down to munch on their meager snack, Estel ventured a suggestion.

"You know, if you guys really want to help me out, you should probably start directing traffic in this place or something. Can you believe I was almost in wreck driving back tonight?"

. . .

What did you guys think? Have any of you ever been involved in an orc-initiated car wreck before? I was fortunate to escape such devilish fate! Please be sure to leave me some feedback; I'd really appreciate it!