Ugh. So for a big part of Sunday was chopped off from my writing time, because...Hurricane Irene took the joy of it and killed my electricity. Huh. Oh well. Enjoy and review!

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 2:

If at all, the fell beasts certainly were being annoying today. Especially when the Witch-Kings are there, and fell beasts aren't particularly happy when they are there. Oh well, they must get used to it later.

"Down, Bane!" I shouted at a snarling fell beast who tried to bite Morgomir. Bane recoiled, sniffing. I had them all selected, only the ten best, bridled and saddled. The other ten weren't as strong and healthy and young as them.

I stepped right up to Bane, staring at those plate-sized dark gold eyes. "You do not bite people's heads off." I scolded him. "Especially the Witch-King of Angmar. You don't want to go to sleep hungry, do you?"

He shook his head, understanding all that I was saying to him.

"Good."

I walked back to the Witch-King of Angmar, who was waiting patiently, observing my animals. "You can have Bane." I told him, thrusting the reins in his hands. "They're very much like a horse. Except they fly. And don't eat anything before flight - Bane likes to fly upside down sometimes." I warned him.

Then, for the other Witch-Kings, I gave them each a fell beast. Ripper, Blackjack, Frostfire, Fang, Tyroth, Scream, Averth, and Rot. That was nine already if you include Bane. The last one was for me. Torn.

I named them all for a reason, too.

Ripper, because he loved to rip his food up into eight hundred pieces before eating them.

Blackjack, because it suited his color nicely. And you couldn't just call a fell beast "Jack". That sounds weird.

Frostfire, because of his frosty attitude.

Fang, because he has particularly sharp teeth.

Tyroth, because he just looked like one.

Scream because...he has deafening screeches when he's angry.

Averth, because he always averted my cold stare whenever he was mischievous and played tricks on me.

Rot, because he loved rotting corpses, and I had to cart rotten food right after the fresh food came along to the fell beasts' pen every time I had to feed them.

Bane, because...he just seemed like a beast who would be called Bane.

And Torn. Because he was the smaller of the fell beasts, and of the litter. Like the runt. He has a torn heart when his older brothers and sisters made fun of him.

Of course, Sauron couldn't afford to have any of his beloved Witch-Kings have the runt of the litter. So I decided to take Torn. Because I'm nice, that's why.

After giving them all the reins and telling them how to fly on them properly, I decided to give them all a test run. Just to see how well they fly, and for the leisure of it. I mean, I've flown before. I want to see how funny it would be on their first try. Let's see those arrogant, proud neither-dead-nor-living men get bucked right off.

We mounted our new steeds, with Sauron watching from below, tracking my every move. Though I knew I shouldn't be scared of him, I always felt some nervousness when he was outside, watching me with my animals. Like he was observing just how not obedient my pets were.

I kicked Torn lightly on his shoulder, and he leapt into the air, flapping his wings powerfully. Then, I pulled on the reins upwards, so that Torn moved upwards, higher up from the ground. I looked below and saw the nine of them still on the ground, looking up at me, their hoods dark underneath. I snorted.

"What's this?" I taunted them. "The Witch-Kings too scared to fly?" I looked at Sauron, smirking. "You really do have an odd taste of choosing Captains, my lord. First they get beaten by a mere Ranger of the North, then let a she-elf run away from them with a weakened Hobbit, and then let them get run over by a river?"

Suddenly, there was a whoosh! of wings, and I found Morgomir higher up than me, on Bane. I raised my eyebrows. "That's an improvement," I remarked, looking up at him. He just stared back down at me, a hood over his head. "But what about the rest of your men?"

There were eight more whoosh!es to answer my question.

Nine Ringwraiths hovered above me, seemingly accomplished how to ride their steeds. "You were saying, my lady?" Morgomir asked casually.

I glared at him. "Shut up. I've flown on Torn more than you could ever imagine."

Eh, that was a lie. I sometimes was too tired to fly after work. But I do try. That is, if I can fit in my schedule of riding Wargs, Oliphaunts, giant spiders, training Crebain to spy and send messages, train Cave-trolls to fight, try to feed Watchers without them attacking me, and pestering Sauron if there are more dragon eggs left in Middle-Earth. "No, Fay!" Sauron would shout at me, and irritated, throwing a book at me, which I would barely miss. "Stop bothering me or I'll feed you to Shelob!"

"Ah," I would tease him. "But I know giant spiders better than you. I can make her cuddle with me rather than sting me."

Yes, that was a lie. But I couldn't back down from the Witch-King of Angmar now, could I?

"Really?" Morgomir's voice was sly. "Let's find out then!"

He jerked back on his reins, sending Bane flipping backwards and then forwards, shooting fast. The others watched on as he swooped away gracefully. I rolled my eyes and shot after him.

Spoiled, insolent Witch-Kings. Although they are like my brothers.

I kicked Torn gently, and he speeded away after Bane. The wind blasted in my face, prickling it like little needles. Mordor, on the map, looked awfully small, though in comparison...it's awfully large. On horse, if you travel inside of Mordor, takes a while to get to wherever you need to go. I can't even think about it on foot. But on fell beast...that's a different story.

I let out a low growl as eight more fell beasts shot ahead of me. I scowled. That wasn't supposed to happen.

Torn was easily the smallest, so his wing span wasn't as big and broad, and wasn't something he could be very proud of. Though that was true, Torn was easily the fastest and he could slide between things that were much to small for others to go through.

That, my fellow audience, it what he could do the best and be proud of at the same time.

I urged my steed forward, and he did so obediently. I've taught them well. Especially Torn. He picked up speed with a screech. I winced. "Must you do that?" I muttered. Torn chirped happily.

Eight fell beasts flew swiftly ahead of us, and I knew that Torn didn't like that. He never did. He never liked anything ahead of him. He liked to be first. Make note of that aggressive behavior. His wings gave one last powerful flap that thrust both of us forward and he darted between the eight, his small size moving into the small spaces between his litter mates.

Scream let out a screech. Why? He does that when he's angry. I shot a glare at Tainted, the Witch-King. I have nicknames for all of them, because they don't remember their names at the moment. I guess a thousand years does wipe out part of your memory, does it? All except for Morgomir and Khamûl, the second in command under our favorite Witch-King of Angmar. Sauron wouldn't tell me the rest of their names. He only told me the top two. I guess he favors them more? I don't know.

"Scream is yours now, Tainted!" I yelled at the Witch-King, who looked at me. I couldn't tell what his expression was like under that dark hood. I don't want to know. "Not mine. You do anything wrong to make him mad - he screeches at you!" I smiled at the thought of Tainted upsetting Scream and his steed screeching in his face. Ah, good thoughts...

My attention returned to Torn and now Bane, who was far up ahead. Morgomir twisted in his seat to look around at us. I could tell that his expression wouldn've been a gleeful smirk. Good riddance, I'm disgusted that I can't wipe the smirk off his face because he doesn't have one.

Narrowing my eyes in concentration, I pulled Torn off to the side with a pull of the reins, and he obediently did so. One thing that I have learned over the years: males tend to do things...head-on, and females tend to do things strategically.

I like to do things strategically.

Torn let out a screech of impatience as he watched his older litter mates fly away from him. I stroke his leathery neck gently, soothing him. "Strategies," I told him, "Not force."

My mind was spinning. Easily I could try to outrun my friends - but would that work? I obviously needed to put Torn's skills and only advantages to work.

Then it clicked. I kicked Torn lightly and he responded instantly, swooping. Morgomir was heading towards Minas Morgul by the looks of it. Of course, take away my little fell beasts and also my hard work, sweat and blood? I think not...

If I remembered correctly on my previous practice flights with Torn, the wind blew in from the east occasionally. Sometimes they were huge, rapid, powerful gusts of wind, sometimes not. Hopefully they were big today.

I wheeled Torn around towards the wind from the east, half praying that it wouldn't be simple and weak. After all, nobody wants a boasting and smug Morgomir as we eat dinner tonight. Especially if some of the lieutenants and captains from around Mordor come to dinner. I'll never hear the end of it.

Climbing high into the air, I tried to recall where the wind was exactly, and quickly before Morgomir actually traveled the many miles to Minas Morgul. Torn eagerly tried to resist the pulling of the reins that was holding him back from going anywhere he wanted to go.

"Stop it, Torn." I said, hearing the tone of my voice as evident exasperation.

He let out a screech and nosed his muzzle up into the air, upwards.

I looked up. Dark, cloudy storm clouds, accompanied by smoke and ash from Mount Doom. Typical. "You think the wind gust is up there?"

Another screech, indicating a clear "Yes."

Sighing, I decided to cope, just because Torn was...well, he was Torn. I shouldn't forget that the runt of the litter had particularly excellent memory and instincts.

"Lead the way," I told him.

With a happy chirp, which sounded very odd coming from a twenty foot fell beast with razor sharp, long spikes, fangs, and claws, and nearly thirty to forty feet of wings, Torn sped upwards, rocketing.

And then, lo and behold - the wind from the east seemed to be in a fairly good mood today. It was a powerful gust of wind, that I liked very much, and sent both Torn and I propelling forward at a rapid speed. My steed let out a yelp of surprise before he swiftly recovered and shot forward with the wind's help.

I grinned. Now we were flying much faster than before, and obviously faster than Morgomir's speed. All thanks to our great wind from the east.

We raced towards nine figures on fell beasts, pretty much unaware of where we were. I smirked, delighted to see what their faces would be like, although they didn't have any. Hilarious.

We were almost to the nine when I saw Fang raise his head, tilted, then looked straight at us. I winced. Fang gave us a toothy smile, his fangs jagged and gleaming. Then he let out a very un-called for screech.

And Torn replied back heartily.

"Torn!" I yelled. "We're supposed to creep up behind them because it's funnier and - oh, never mind."

Nine Witch-Kings had their hooded heads swiveled behind them, and stared at us. Although I was quite annoyed with both Torn and Fang, I could almost sense their expressions to be stunned and confused - how the bloody hell did Fay catch up on us with that runt?

And I would reply, Gentlemen - I just do.

Now with a new challenger with an interestingly high potential racing at a great speed towards them, Morgomir decided that now would be the best time to stop gawking at the newcomer and finish the mock-race. I spotted the Witch-King of Angmar try to make a break for it on Bane, his powerful wing muscles straining to go faster underneath that leathery hide.

Poo for them, I know that Bane can only make sprints because of his bulky size, not long distance flying.

"Quickly now, Torn." I murmured. "Don't let your eldest brother beat you."

He gave me a screech and with a strong flap of his wings, shot forward with his remaining energy as the wind from the east helped move us forward. It was quick and fast, before indeed we did catch up with Bane and Morgomir.

Neck to neck, we were straining to beat each other. We could both see Minas Morgul and the towers looming up in the distance between the high mountains that protected Mordor. Outside of those mountains - I have never been out of Mordor before, but with an exception of Isengard. But my trips to Isengard were rare - I had animals to take care of. And Saruman had that Wormtongue guy that I haven't met before - they ought to be fine alone.

I don't know who won - but Bane and Torn both made it to the finishing line before the others did.

Torn screeched alongside with Bane, both of them panting like dogs. They were probably debating about who made it first, one or the other.

"Don't tell me it." I groaned, knowing what the answer was now, by the looks of it.

"I think it was," The Witch-King of Angmar replied back wearily. "Though excellent tactics - using the wind from the east to help. I would have never thought of it."

I gave him a slight grin before seeing Sauron approaching us from behind.

That man, always appearing in the oddest places. Hell, I don't know how he even got here!

"That was a particularly interesting race." He remarked, his voice cool.

"No kidding?" I muttered under my breath. "Nobody won. It was a tie."

Okay, so that was a little short...

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Cheers,

littledragoneyes