I do not own Lord of the Rings or any of its characters. (obviously)
"Man, this is the bomb." Khamûl sighed in contentment, luxuriously reclining on the black sand beaches of the Sea of Núrnen. "I really needed this vacation."
"We all did." Wraith number four agreed, generally known by his fellow companions as Zag. "The Captain needs it even more, though my beautiful shiny helm is off to anyone who can get him to take a break. I doubt Witchy even knows the meaning of the word 'joke'."
"Talk about a workaholic." Khamûl replied critically, adjusting his sunglasses against the glare of the volcanoes in the backdrop. "The Boss doesn't have any concept of fun: remember the time he wouldn't let us torture a human because it'd impede the 'schedule'? By my ring! Torture and mutilation is one of the best parts of this job. He needs to let loose at least once, and I'll be there when he does." He finished with a huff.
"Always the 'schedule'," Number seven, Udu, interjected with a grumble. He straightened up as his voice was raised to a squeak in a mock impression of their leader. "'You scum all need to stop acting like orcs and accept the fact that you have an important reputation to uphold for the Master's plans.' And the time he stopped us from starting a heavy metal band and touring Mordor..."
"…Totally crushed my dreams of being famous." Zag finished wistfully, repeatedly poking a sleeping Rut in the ribs by way of relieving his disappointment.
"Speaking of fame," Gakh piped up as he sloshed through the shallows. "Kraak signed up for the surfing competition next month; should win it easy, look how he's killing those waves out there." He said as he indicated Nazgûl 5, skillfully navigating the sea, his bored, and thirty pounds of black fabric. (Quite the remarkable feat in that particular group)
"Must be his namesake; the Kraken was always a beast, literally and figuratively, in the water." Udu reflected, getting up to watch as Ski and Krith engaged in a vicious game of beach volleyball. (More properly known as send-the-spiky-metal-ball-flying-into-your-opponents-face game)
"By the Tower, Zag, stop it!" Rut finally exclaimed, unable to rest or attempt to tan (A life-long dream of his) with continual jabs in his non-existent stomach.
"I still say the Boss needs to lighten up." Khamûl griped, returning to the original subject as he sullenly opened a bag of fried rat tails.
"Aw, you lighten up, both of you." Gakh said, slapping his second-in-command on his invisible shoulder. "Let's go for a swim. Last one to the water is fell beast fodder!"
Few men, elves, or dwarves could picture the scene of seven Nazgûl, the most dreaded foe in Middle-Earth aside from their dark master, diving into the slick, oily waters of the Sea of Núrnen to engage in chicken fights, childish splashing, and the Dead Man's Float. (A very literally adaptation in their case)
"Thank the Master for vacations!" Udu cried as a he 'playfully' held the struggling Zag under the water in a friendly attempt to 'freshen him up'.
"Hey look, a jellyfish!" Krith called, pointing at Gakh.
"Where?!" He howled in terror, hurriedly shifting his feet away from the indicated spot, for if you were Gakh, anything involving jelly was a thing to be avoided at all costs.
"Gotcha! Gakh is as wimpy as captured human!" Krith taunted, earning a slap of wet cloth full in the face as he was tackled and taken down with a splash.
"What's that?" Khamûl questioned suddenly, pointing at a wave just beyond where Kraak was 'hanging ten'.
"What's what?" Ski asked as Zag came sputtering up, furious and seaweed covered.
"That." Khamûl clarified as a grey triangular shape broke the surface, speeding towards the unsuspecting surfer.
"That's not…. It couldn't be…" Rut whimpered, shrinking away as the fin, for such it was, headed towards Kraak with uncanny speed.
"SHAAARRKK!" Burst from the unseen lips of seven wraiths as the Jaws theme played ominously in the background. (Not really, but you get the idea)
"Kraaaak!" Khamûl called desperately, waving his arms in an attempt to get the wraith's attention, still happily practicing his moves and unaware of the danger. "Get out of the water! The fish!"
"Delish? What's delicious? I thought you were against slang, Khamûl!" Kraak called back over the noise of the waves. Finally, the sight of all of his comrades gesticulating feverishly caused him to turn and view the silent stalker of the ocean approaching him. Kraak glanced down at the piece of plastic that offered but meager protection against those razor teeth and sighed. "I'm going to need a bigger bored." With that, he jumped screaming into the water, madly swimming to the group as the shark followed in close pursuit.
"Swim, Kraak!" Rut yelled as they waited in nervous anticipation, watching the deadly race pan out. "Swim for your li—Wait, we're not alive anyways, what would he swim for?" He questioned of Gakh.
"Hmmm, maybe the surfing competition?"
"Swim, Kraak! Swim for the surfing competition!"
If ever fear gave wings, (or fins) it did that day as Kraak dropped, exhausted and breathless, into his fellow Nazgûl's arms.
"Yeah, Kraak, I knew you'd make it, buddy!" Zag exclaimed, swooping the coughing wraith up in a bone-crushing bear hug. (That is, if they had bones)
"Nice strokes there, man!" Krith complimented admiringly.
"Um, guys, aren't we forgetting something?" Ski questioned as he pointed a finger at the giant shark, undeterred, speedily advancing towards where they stood in the water.
"Sweet mother of Shelob— "
"Screw the fish, let's get out of here!" Khamûl yelped as they ran, tripped, sloshed, and doggy-paddled their frantic way to shore with shrieks that would have burst a hobbit's eardrums.
"Where is it?"
"I don't want to die again!"
"Heeellpp!"
Apparently, none of the most invincible creatures in Middle-Earth had considered the improbability of any shark being able to do them harm. Alas, Steven Spielberg's damage could not be undone, and the beach was doomed to be rather deserted for a time.
The now forsaken beach stilled as a familiar black hood popped out of the water, a grey fin strapped to its head. The Captain stood in the water, chortling with fiendish jubilation at his minions' humiliation and fright. "Can't let loose, eh, Khamûl?" He guffawed as he strode to shore. "That'll show 'em to mess with my room again! After all, one can't enjoy a proper vacation without the 'certain necessities'." He said to himself as he stretched out on the coal-black sand to dry off. "Solitude, check. Nice weather, check."
The distant screams and squeals of the Nazgûl came to his ears, still running their terrified way back to Minas Ithil. A slow and wicked smile crept onto the Chief's features. "Relaxing music in the background, check."
So, not sure if I like how this chapter came out, but hopefully you guys did! I do plan on explaining (eventually) why Gakh is terrified of jelly, in case you were wondering.