"I want an explanation." The Witch King demanded as Zag and Khamûl were led into his office. "Now."
Six Hours Earlier...
"Alright fellows, here are the last ones!" Zag called out cheerfully as he plumped down two large metal mugs of ale on the heavily laden table, at which sat Udu and Gakh.
It was your regular "Falling-Out-Friday", on which the wraiths invariably committed some misdemeanor (accidentally or otherwise) that resulted in the Chief banishing them to a particular room to spend the rest of the day, rather then harping on his nerves. This particular Friday the eight-some had been sentenced to the ale cellar, an arrangement that would have pleased many a mortal man. However, due to being wraiths, the Nazgûl were unable to become drunk and therefore soon grew bored in their confinement. And a bored Nazgûl means new forms of mischief are about to be created, in this instance, a drinking contest.
It had been Zag's idea, and given the circumstances, Udu and Gakh had agreed to challenge each other. ("It's not like we're really flooded with activity options, is it?")
"Remember," Zag instructed as the rest of the wraiths curiously crowded around the table overflowing with beer. "This contest is based on speed; whoever finishes their approximately 20+ mugs first is the winner."
"What'll we win?"
"Satisfaction and bragging rights."
"Are you sure they won't get drunk?" Kraak asked suspiciously as he eyed first the drink then the black barrels it had been drawn from.
"Of course not, you moron." Khamûl interrupted, standing apart a few paces to observe the proceedings. "I once imbibed twice of what's on that table and never felt a difference. Don't tell me you haven't tried getting drunk once after all these years as a wraith?"
"Some of us were more concerned with the whole dead-not-dead thing instead of alcohol." Kraak retorted.
"So the real question is whether you would've been able to hold your liquor as a human?" Udu asked, breaking off the impending argument as he sniffed his mug in appreciative anticipation.
Kraak's glare was his only answer as devilish snickers were thrown about the cavernous room, echoing off the ceiling far above them.
"It's been ages since I was drunk, I've practically forgotten what it's like." Rut ruminated forlornly.
"Well, I still recall how a hangover felt." Ski commented as he watched Krith examining the paraphernalia in the room's dark recesses.
"So do I; I had a major headache and loud noises hurt. A lot." Krith added as he generously demonstrated on a large Haradrim gong he'd just found while seven Nazgûl collectively cringed.
"Shut that thing up, will you?!" Khamûl ejaculated angrily, holding his hands over where his ears would have been.
"Just trying to help Rut remember what a hangover was like." Krith grumbled, dropping the padded drumstick as he rejoined the others at the table.
"Yeah, thanks for the interactive experience."
"Enough chat already, let's start." Gakh interrupted impatiently. "It's not like we have all day."
"Too bad we do." Zag sighed. "Alright, Udu & Gakh, hands off the mugs and on the tabletop. Three…two…one...Go!"
"Wait a minute, you actually let them have a drinking contest with my select barrels of Minas Morgul ale?" The Chief questioned incredulously as he stared down from his desk to Zag and Khamûl fidgeting in front of him like naughty school children.
"Not too loud please, my head." Khamûl whimpered with a repressed moan.
"Did you?"
"Weell…" Zag started as he squirmed a little, sinking lower into his seat by way of an answer.
The Witch King snorted, though whether in baffled amusement or angry frustration neither servant could tell. "And did you know that those specific barrels contain the only beer in Middle-Earth, specially brewed by yours-truly, that can intoxicate a Ringwraith?" He asked dryly as Khamûl and Zag shared a glance, but remained otherwise silent.
"I see. You did know, or at least, you do now." The Boss added sarcastically. "Now tell me what happened after Gakh and Udu finished their little 'contest'."
"Udu's the winner!" Zag proclaimed as both contestants set down their last beer before slumping over small mountains of empty mugs.
"He did…not win…I'm ssure…" Gakh slurred groggily before releasing an impressive belch.
Udu groaned as he shakily attempted to rise before collapsing on the floor. "Where's all the rum gone?" He mumbled to the astonishment of his comrades.
"They're…drunk." Kraak stated, rather obviously, as they continued to watch the inebriated duo with awe.
"Well, Zag and Khamûl, you were both wrong." Rut observed in a hushed voice. "They're as tipsy as an orc off-duty."
"You know what this means then…" Ski started as they looked around at each other before heading towards the beer barrels.
"So you all tried the rum, then what?" The Witch King sighed impatiently as Zag paused in his storytelling to bat away an impertinent fly.
Khamûl grinned as he brushed flecks of dirt from his robes. "What else? We kept drinking."
"Another!" Kraak called out as he threw his mug to the floor with a crash from his perch on top of the table. "Gakh! More beer!"
"Huh? Waz happenin'?" Gakh mumbled from the empty barrel he'd squeezed himself into earlier.
Udu had passed out on the floor, oblivious as Rut and Ski unabashedly danced a tango on, over and around him. Krith was repeatedly whacking the gong, hollering a song above the chaos, despite some of the other's protests.
"Forty-seven mugs of ale on the wall, forty-seven mugs of ale, take one down, pass it around, forty-six mugs of ale on the wall! Forty-six mugs of ale on the wall, forty-six mugs of ale…"
"Krith!" Khamûl yelled, frowning at him over his rum as he alternated between chuckling to himself happily and booing Krith's singing with vehemence.
"...Take one down…"
"Pick a different song!"
"…Pass it around…"
"Or shut up!"
"45 MUGS OF ALE ON THE WALL!"
Among all the pandemonium, Zag was nowhere to be found.
"So that's when the guards found you, Zag, outside of your assigned room and brought you to me along with my 'trusty lieutenant'." The Chief interrupted sternly, glaring at both of them.
"Exactly, sir." Khamûl agreed with a nod, unfazed by his commander's mood and ignoring the dirty looks sent his way by both captain and comrade. "That was Zag's plan all along: get us so drunk he could escape without fear of seven wraiths impeding his departure."
"If you're so smart, Oh-Great-Black-Easterling, " Said Nazgûl retaliated with a huff. "Why did you drink the beer if you knew you'd get drunk yourself?"
"I think I am entitled to some privileges, and I was merely partaking of some long-desired refreshment." Khamûl reasoned, swallowing the hiccup that rose in his throat.
"Oh, because six quarts of beer is merely partaking."
"Ladies, ladies," The Boss broke in as he inwardly thought with vexation: Honestly, some days I think being a mother would've been easier, considering the children I have to put up with. "As the captain of the armies of Minas Morgul, I have more pressing issues to deal with then sitting here and listening to you two squabble. Khamûl, as second-in-command of the Nazgûl and my right hand-"
"Just figuratively, of course."
"-It was your job and responsibility to maintain order and dispel any rowdy behavior. Zag, as fourth-in-command, you are also expected to provide a standard for the rest of the Ringwraiths. Do either of you have anything to say for yourself?" The Chief ended imperiously.
Silence ensued, as a distinct purring sound became audible from somewhere in the fortress.
"What time is lunch?"
"Whatever time I see fit," The Witch King threw back with one of his do-you-dare-to-take-on-he-who-cannot-be-killed-by-any-man stares. "Before you're dismissed, tell me where the rest of those sodden wraiths are and what in Mordor is that noise?" He exclaimed in exasperation as the steady drone in the background rose to a dull roar.
Zag stifled a chortle while Khamûl permitted himself an ironic smirk. "Allow us to show you, Boss."
With Witchy in tow, they led him to a closed door from which was emanating the horrendous sound.
"It sounds like a bunch of sick trolls slowly drowning in lava." The Chief muttered in bewilderment.
"You're close to the mark there, Captain."
"What is this? More schemes of yours?"
"Far from it; sir, may I present, your best men." Khamûl intoned as he opened the door with a flourish and bow to reveal-six unconscious Nazgûl, snoring for all they were worth.
Wow, I have really let this one go. Big apologies to everyone still following this fic, I rather lost my mojo for a while. But, since one thing I hate is when authors don't finish their stories, I will continue with this if it kills me. **cue dramatic music** Thank you again for your patience, reviews, follows, favorites, etc. Feedback appreciated! Love y'all!
~Earial