It's an interesting thing, Number Nine mused, how a person can be in a completely flat plain but still not see any sign of life. It wasn't nearly as interesting as a tap dancing aardvark, but interesting none the less.

He had made his way to an area he though had the distinct possibility that maybe, just maybe, there was a small chance of the idea that this area may very well be Rohan. But, since he had no map, or a sense of direction, there was no real way of knowing.

So rather than stumble around lost without a clue as to where he was, Number Nine decided it might be wise to ask the large on coming mob for directions. It was an ugly looking group to be sure, but there certainly were a lot of them, so there was a good chance at least one of them knew where they were. Once the group finally made it to where he was standing, the Ringwraith halted the column, and asked the fellow in front, "Excuse me, sir, but is this, by any chance, Rohan?"

The fellow seemed to mishear the question, because he responded by crying out, "We are the fighting Uruk-Hai!"

Number Nine nodded. "Well, that certainly is very interesting. Now, can you tell me whether or not this is Rohan?"

The Uruk-Hai looked puzzled, as if he hadn't expected the conversation to continue. After a few moments, he banged his chest plate and shouted out, "We are the fighting Uruk-Hai!"

"Yes, yes, I believe that's been established. Now then, can you…"

Number Nine was cut off by another cry, this time from more of the group, once again stating that, "We are the fighting Uruk-Hai!"

"Oh shut up, you lummoxes!" a high squeaky voice shouted out. Pushing its way through the masses, Number Nine was confronted by a shorter version of an Uruk-Hai, but with a significantly larger cranium. "Sorry about this," the thing explained to Number Nine, "but we had some problems in the engineering process. They fight well enough, but they can't seem to form a sentence more complicated than, 'We are the Fighting Uruk-Hai!'"

Nine nodded sympathetically. "Well, that certainly is a problem."

"Yes, it is. That's why I, the Thinking Uruk-Hai, have to travel around with them."

"We are the Fighting Uruk-Hai!"

"Shut up! Now then, what can I do for you?"

"Uh, well, I want to know if this is the way to Rohan or not. I'd like to buy a horse."

"Well, you see, this is Rohan right here, so congratulations. But I wouldn't count on buying a horse if I were you."

"Why not?"

"We're on our way to kill every single Rohirim in the area. And after we kill them, we're going to sell their bodies as fashionable ladies hats, and use their hair to knit fancy quilts."

Number Nine grimaced. "That's… vile."

"Yes, well, that's what happens to people who annoy the mighty Sauruman!"

"Yes, I can understand that. His temper is very… wait, did you say you work for Sauruman?"

The Thinking Uruk-Hai blanched for a second. "Err, of course not! Ha ha! What I meant was, we're the freelancing volunteer Uruk Fire Department…"

Number Nine wasn't the sharpest spoon in the drawer, but even he had a small amount of wit. "So! Sauruman is going around building armies, eh? We specifically told him he couldn't do that until he applied for a permit."

The Thinking Uruk-Hai glared at the Nazgul. "Yeah, well so what? We can build up armies if we want to, whether or not we have permission from Mister Flaming Eye Ball, or what ever lame form he's in now."

"Hey! Hey! That's just until we get the Ring back!"

"Yeah, and you've sure been doing a good job at that. I hear you got to the Ring Bearer, only to be beaten back by a river! What, afraid that your cloak would get wet and shrink?"

"Well, actually…"

"I thought so! Why don't you just go back to Mordor and let the might of Isengard take over?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, what? You call this might? Hah! The Dark Lord laughs at flattery! A lot! This one time, we made a painting of him, and he laughed for hours!"

"Pretty big words for a guy who got defeated by having his finger cut off!

"SHUT UP! That could have happened to ANYONE!"

"Yeah, it could have happened to anyone who was a total LOSER!"

It was at this moment that Number Nine said something that many would have considered drastic. "Oh YEAH!?"

The Thinking (and Fighting) Uruk-Hai gasped. "Right, there was no call for that! We were just kidding around, but if you're going to get personal, we may as well just leave!" And with that, the Uruk-Hai stormed off.

Number Nine was left fuming. And after he put out the fumes, he was left angry. No one could talk about Sauron like he was just another flaming eyeball! (It just so happened Sauron was very sensitive about that.) But Number Nine was very, very sneaky (like a ninja!), and there was no way he was going to let Sauruman get away with this! He was going to walk to Isengard, and exact a cruel, cunning, and evil revenge upon the White Wizard…

He was going to get him really drunk, take pictures of him in bed with an elf, send the pictures to the news paper, and ruin Saruman's reputation forever!

Or something like that.