Disclaimer: I actually do like hummus

"Hurry up, you scoundrels, do you want to be late?" The Witch King demanded as the Nazgûl, laden with water coolers, camping chairs, blankets and pillows, filed into the courtyard of Minas Morgul where three fell beasts were waiting. "Can we at least try to be on time?"

A few weeks had past since the Ringwraiths' disappointing rock band rejection, prompting the eight to attempt some display of niceness to their Chief, despite their internal misgivings.

"After all, he did try to get the Master's approval for us." Kraak had reasoned during their impromptu staff meeting held in the broom closet upon their return from Barad-Dur.

"Fiiinnee, we'll be nice to him for now," Udu had agreed resignedly. "But no promises for anything long-term. We still need some entertainment, after all."

"We're coming," Krith heaved a sigh as he hoisted a large cooler onto the back of his fell beast. "Zag had to finish packing the food for the s'mores."

"I got the extra-jumbo-marshmallows!" Said wraith exclaimed excitedly, clambering onto his own steed along with Khamûl and Rut.

"Where'd you get all those marshmallows, by the way?" Gakh asked, eying the four sacks stuffed with the fluffy goodness. "I thought we used them all up when we made those guns."

"Marshmallows don't grow on trees." Khamûl added as he adjusted his rather precarious seat on the disgruntled animal.

"It's bushes, not trees, thank you very much." Zag retorted haughtily.

"What?"

"I may or may not have started a marshmallow farm and let Zag harvest it." Ski admitted from his cramped position sandwiched in between Krith and Kraak.

"And you never told us?" Udu cried. "You KNOW how much we love marshmallows!"

"I wanted a marshmallow farm, not a marshmallow famine!"

"Alright, that's enough," The Boss ordered. "We're going to a bonfire at Mt. Doom, so this is supposed to be a fun, happy time for all of us. No squabbling! Is that clear?" He finished as the last of the Ringwraiths situated themselves on their respective mounts.

"Yes, sir." They chorused, several of them shooting some 'are we really going to keep being nice to him?' looks as the fell beasts rose from the ground.

"Great, now let's put our happy faces on!" The Chief said cheerily as eight Nazgûl immediately plastered eight cheesy grins on their faces. Honestly, Witchy seemed determined to make being nice to him as hard as it could possibly be.

"You brought the cockroach crackers, right, Rut?" Khamûl called from the driver's seat over the whistling wind. "S'mores aren't s'mores without cockroach crackers!"

"I got 'em right here!" Rut hollered back. "Along with Shmershey's llama blood bars!"

"Awesome! Those melt so nicely at volcanic temperatures!"

"Are you two done yelling in my ear?" Zag asked above the noise, clutching his precious marshmallows to his chest as he peered at the ground far below him. Heights+Zag=nausea. Gaaah, curse fell beasts and whoever decided they were a good method of travel for easily airsick wraiths.

"So Chief, you never told us why exactly the Mouth of Sauron invited us to this bonfire." Udu commented, doing his best to speak clearly from behind Gakh's cloak and hood.

"Call it a vacation if you want, something that will only happen if you behave." The Chief explained, navigating his beast towards the looming Orodruin.

"Or we could just run off to Nurnen like last time..." Kraak muttered to Ski.

"Dude, I haven't seen MoS in ages!" Krith called excitedly.

"He showed me the best ways to make my teeth look gross." Rut reminisced, sympathetically patting the queasy Zag on the back.

"Does this little outing have anything to do with speeding up the war outcome?" Khamûl asked the Boss hopefully.

"We'll see, the MoS is already a fan of the whole band idea, so who knows?" He replied as the three fell beasts slowly circled the mountain before alighting at the volcano's entrance when the Mouth of Sauron was waiting for them.

(The wraiths had asked why they couldn't each ride their own beasts for a less-squished ride, but apparently this was "wasteful", "non eco-friendly", and "didn't fit with Sauron's green agenda". "Although how we're supposed to be going green when there isn't a living blade of grass for miles is beyond me." Gakh had complained.)

"Witch King and Company! How's it going?" MoS grinned, his smile stretching even wider then normal. The Mouth of Sauron was in fact, when not acting in infomercials, the CEO of Great Gunk Toothpaste, 'guaranteed to bring out the evil in your smile!', and was considered Mordor's leading expert on all things entrepreneurial and business minded.

"We're surviving," Ski answered for the group as they trudged into the heart of the mountain. "How've you been?"

"Oh, about the same, you know how it is when you run a multi-million dollar business."

"Sure, just like I know what it's like to famous or beat a balrog in elf-slaying." Kraak snorted as they set up their folding chairs on the tip of the precipice inside the volcano.

"I can't help it if I'm beautiful...or rich." The MoS laughed good humoredly. "Now, let's get on to some marshmallow roasting, shall we?"

Mt. Doom really was the perfect spot for making s'mores. One simply stuck their roasting stick over the giant lava pit, waited approximately 6.3 seconds, and the marshmallows promptly burst into flames, leaving behind a tasty charred clump of perfect gooey-ness.

All-in-all, it was rather cosy and heaven to marshmallows connoisseurs like the present party.

"Yummm...nice, burnt, and gory." Ski hummed delightedly as he reached for his s'more.

"I could eat these all day!" Zag proclaimed with melted llama blood dribbling down his chin. At least, that's what he tried to say. Due to currently having three of the extra-jumbo-marshmallows in his mouth, it sounded more like, "Mmmf mmf mmm mmmmd!".

"I can't remember the last time I had a gore s'more this good." The Boss sighed as he stretched luxuriously in his canvas chair.

"I got to hand it you, Ski, you grow some mean mallows." Krith said, rubbing his belly in appreciation.

"Must..have...one...more..." Rut groaned, attempting to finish off his seventeenth s'more.

"I foresee mild to severe stomach pains in the near future." Khamûl remarked on the side to Kraak as he snuggled under his fuzzy purple blanket.

"We should really do this more often, guys." Udu said seriously, licking goo off of his sticky fingers.

"Except the Master said he'll be needing us on the war's front-lines soon." Zag reminded him.

"You're lucky," MoS returned, sorrowfully adjusting his helm. "You get to go out and kill elves; I'm stuck here baby-sitting orcs."

"Don't worry, you'll get your moment of glory, too." Gakh comforted reassuringly.

"People will lose their heads over you." Ski added.

"I even had the best battle entrance plan," The Black Numenorean moaned, refusing to be consoled. "I would use my best toothpaste, (you know the kind that looks like you've been eating nothing but swine spleens for six months) saunter up to some puny human or dwarf, swish my cloak around threateningly, and say: 'Hello, I am the Mouth of Sauron, you killed my people, prepare to die.' It would've been epic!" He sniffled, blowing his nose violently.

"Life is full of unfulfilled dreams and disappointing tales." Khamûl agreed, thinking of the time he turned down trying bacon ice cream.

"Hey, speaking of stories, why don't we share some funny ones or something?" Kraak suggested. "Isn't that what you're supposed to do at a campfire?"

"I thought you were supposed to sing kumbaya." Rut frowned.

"Oooh, I have a great story to share!" Krith trumpeted, scooting his chair closer to the middle of the circle. "And it has to do with Gakh." He smirked, shooting a glance at the wraith, who had spat out his s'more in surprise.

"Gross,man!"

"You're not telling that here, are you?!" Gakh protested as the rest of the group eagerly asked for the tale.

"'Course I'm telling it!"

"Krith!"

"Whaat?"

"Don't!"

"What's stopping me?"

Gakh implemented his puppy-dog eyes at this point. "Even now?"

Krith paused, considering the pleading face before him. "What's the magic word?"

"Please?"

"Actually, it was 'Krith is awesome', so no, I won't not tell it."

"That was three words, not one!"

"Meh, details."

"Just get on with the story, Krith." The Boss intervened at last. "And stop whining, Gakh, we'd have found out eventually."

"Not if I had anything to say about it." Said Nazgûl muttered mutinously.

"I say it sounds entertaining." Zag commented, propping his boots on MoS's armrest.

"Alright, alright, keep your hoods on." Krith laughed as the noise died down. "Some of you already know about this, *cough Udu cough* but here it goes..."

One day not-so-long-ago, in the lovely city of Minas Morgul, there resided a great and powerful wraith of unsurpassed intelligence by the name of Krith the Awesome.

"By unsurpassed, you mean he lived alone in this city?" Khamul remarked wryly.

"Shut up, don't interrupt an artist at his work."

This wraith did not live alone, but with eight other wraiths he had had to deal with for centuries. On this particular day, he was bored. Bored bored bored. So irrepressibly bored, he went to Udu for ideas.

"Udu, I'm booooreed."

"Then why don't you do something about it?"

"There's nothing to do," Our hero pointed out. "What're you doing?"

"Sulking over my lack of brilliant April Fools pranks." The wraith replied gruffly, obviously perturbed he didn't possess the mental capacities for such genius.

"Excuse me?!"

"Shhh!"

"It's April Fools Day today?! Why didn't you say so?" Krith the Awesome exclaimed incredulously.

"I just did. You're welcome."

"Farewell, boredom! C'mon, Udu, pull yourself out of your apathy; I have a plan that will bring bountiful amusement to both of us..."

Intrigued by his compatriot's display of extraordinary intelligence, Udu followed Krith as they made they way into the mess hall kitchen, specifically, The Pantry of Outlandish Horrors. The Pantry contained multiple examples of disgusting food no self-respecting wraith would venture near or attempt to consume, ranging from mustard to oranges to hummus to lettuce. The purpose of The Pantry was to use as a form of punishment and/or torture for misbehaving goblins and/or Nazgûl, and was studiously given a radius of six feet whenever someone was forced to walk past the dreaded Pantry.

It was to this cabinet Krith the Awesome now lead the apprehensive Udu, and opened the door with a flourish.

"Uh, Krith? What do you think you're doing?"

"Being a genius! What's it look like?" Krith grinned devilishly, as he reached his hand into the cavernous black hole and pulled out a small jar containing some gelatinous substance.

"You do realize that the food in there is stuff that normal people eat right? Elves, men, dwarves..." Udu's voice dropped lower. "Mortals."

"Of course I realize that," Krith retorted. "And who do we know who has a particular phobia of normal people food?"

A pause while Udu processed the implications.

"Alright, I came up with the idea, and one more insult to my intelligence, and I'll knock you into the lava."

"Fine, fine, just let me finish."

"Gakh!" They chorused together, because they were obviously on the same level in regards to mental prowess.

Five minutes later found the duo banging on Gakh's door, grins spread wide and their Imp Dial turned on full blast.

"Yes?" Gakh asked as he opened he door, pitifully unsuspecting of any malevolent designs.

"Oi!"

"Happy National Blood Day!" Krith chirped as he shoved a plate full of jiggling red stuff towards Gakh.

"National Blood Day?"

"Why, didn't you know?" Udu gasped in disbelief. "We even made you some specially coagulated blood a la Udu."

"A-hem."

"A la Udu and Krith." He amended, gesturing to the dish. "Go on, try some!"

Gakh eyed the plate, then the pair in front of him. "You've never made me blood before..." He said hesitantly.

"It's never been National Blood Day before!" Krith reasoned.

Gakh looked at the food again. "I do love some coagulated blood." He muttered.

"Then try it, and enjoy yourself!" Udu smiled as they pushed past him and made their way back down the hallway.

"Do you think he'll realize what it is?" Krith snickered.

"Weell..." Udu drawled, glancing at his wristwatch. "I'd say it'll take him about five minutes to eat our culinary creation, probably a minute to figure out the weird taste, and another three seconds to find the empty labeled jar I left in his room."

-Exactly six minutes and three seconds later-

"AAAAAAAAARRRRRGH!"

"Told ya."

"KRITH! UDU!" Gakh shouted, barging out of his room in a blind rage.

"Yes?"

"You...you made me eat...JELLY?!"

"Uh, yes?"

"JELLY!"

"We heard you the first time." Krith smirked, making a show of rubbing his ear.

"I'M GOING TO DIE NOW AND IT'S ALL YOUR GUYS FAULT!"

"You're already dead." Udu added helpfully.

"THIS ISN'T FUNNY!"

"Actually, it is."

"Be honest now, did you really like the taste?"

"DAAARRRGH!"

"And that's why Gakh now hates/fears jelly." Krith finished as Gakh buried himself in blankets to hide his embarrassment while the group laughed and chuckled.

"That was good thinking." MoS nodded his approval with a teasing grin. "How does jelly taste, Gakh?"

"Despite the fact that the The Pantry of Outlandish Horrors is off-limits," The Boss stated. "It was April Fools Day, so I'll let the breach of protocol slide. Just this once."

"'National Blood Day'? Really?" Kraak questioned incredulously, laughing so hard he hiccuped.

"Buck up, Gakh, it's not that bad." Rut comforted, poking the mass of blankets.

"Mmmf."

"We'll forget eventually." Khamul added, expertly spearing a marshmallow on his roasting stick.

"Maybe, but probably not." Zag chortled, whapping the Ringwraith-burrito with a pillow.

"Oh, so it's that kind of party!" Ski said, grabbing some pillows for himself and hitting Zag over the head.

"Hey!"

"Free-for-all!" The MoS called as seats and food were abandoned and an impromptu pillow fight began.

"Take that, miserable worms!" The Chief yelled, lobbing a projectile over a barricade of folding chairs and hitting Rut squarely in the face.

"Arm yourselves, men!" Zag cried to Udu and Khamûl, snatching up as many pillows as he could carry.

"I am your commanding officer, you take orders from ME!" Khamûl retorted, swinging his pillow and catching the MoS in the gut.

"Watch out!" Kraak called as Krith hit him in the back and then bowled him over, leaving them thrashing on the floor in a tangle of fabric and flailing limbs.

"I will avenge!" Rut howled, aiming for Witchy as he fired pillow after pillow in alarming rapidity. Meanwhile Gakh, still entwined in his protective blankets, rolled on the ground trying to dodge trampling feet like some weird deranged mummy.

"For Mordor!" MoS shouted, leading his team as he charged into the fray to face off with Udu. "Hello. I am the Mouth of Sauron. You killed my people. Prepa-"

Udu smacked him. Hard.

The MoS tried again. "Hello, I am the Mou-"

More feathers to the face.

"C'mon, you gotta let me say the whole thing!" He whined at last.

"All's fair in war and pillow fights!" Udu shot back, sending a finishing blow to the Mouth's rather expansive mouth.

The fearsome battle raged for several more minutes before all, both victors and vanquished, lay exhausted on the floor, feathers, pillows, and squashed marshmallows scattered everywhere.

"Shall we call it a draw?" Khamûl asked at length, letting out a long breath as he sat up. "I'm starting to get a migraine."

"And we wouldn't want that, would we?" Ski responded sarcastically, chucking a last pillow at his lieutenant.

"No, seriously, this is beginning hurt more then that time I tried coffee." Khamûl insisted, rubbing his forehead vigorously.

"That sounds like an interesting story." The MoS commented, uprighting his chair and plopping down into it.

"Nah, he just basically ricocheted off the walls for four hours and then woke up with one of his classic migraines." Kraak replied dismissively, omitting the fact that they had 'forgotten' to inform Khamûl of caffeine's side effects.

"Coffee is evil." The Black Easterling said darkly. "Coffee is bad. Very bad."

"More evil then us?" Rut joked as he helped un-mummify Gakh.

"Hey, can you imagine what an elf would be like on coffee?" Zag asked suddenly, as they all collectively chuckled at the various undignified mental images such a scenario presented.

"Well, this was fun." Krith gave a sigh of pleasure, popping another marshmallow into his mouth.

"What's that?" Gakh asked suddenly, embarrassment left behind as he pointed to a dark figure at the volcano's entrance.

'That' turned out to be an orc with a very urgent message for the Chief, handing him a thick missive with an imposing red seal.

"It's from the Master," The Boss said at last in a hushed voice, all the laughter dissipating from the group, as he gingerly opened the letter.

The Nazgûl and the MoS watched as the Witch King read its contents, his expression changing from worried to curious to alarm to disbelief.

"What is it? What's it say?" Udu asked, unable to contain his impatience any longer as the Chief finally tore his gaze away from the all-consuming letter.

"There's...been a...development in the war efforts." He said slowly, refolding the paper carefully as he stood up.

"I never pegged you as the kind for dramatics, but now I'm reconsidering that line of thought," MoS grumbled. "Just tell us what it said."

"We're-the Ringwraiths-to go to the far west on a mission, in a little land called Shire, to find someone named Baggins." The Boss paused to let the words sink in moment.

"A mission?"

"Just you guys? Not ME?"

"What's Shire?"

"Or where is it exactly?"

"Do they have good food?"

"What kind of name is Baggins?"

"Do we have to leave now?"

"Can we bring some marshmallows for the road?"

"Or my drum set?"

"Why us?!" They all cried as the clamor and noise level rose exponentially until the Chief waved their questions away.

"The reason the Master's sending us on this mission is simple." He took a breath before delivering the five words that would change all of their lives. (Or whatever you call existence when you're dead/not dead)

"The Ring has been found."

Greetings, my beloved readers! Sorry for the delay in posting; first I was gone for spring break, then I had exams, and then my body decided to get sick with a cold. Don't worry, I'm feeling better, though this chapter was written with many a sniffle and cough. Colds. Bleh. :P

Thanks for all the wonderful reviews last chapter, in response to a query a guest left; wraiths have always had noses, (A fact implied from the whole sniffing thing so prominently displayed in both books and movies) and if you're asking about the visible facet of the olfactory senses, I would kindly refer you to the genre of this story: humor aka unrealistic plot lines. :)

Also, if there are any of the species Homo Whovians reading this, it would make my day if you checked out my first Who fic that I posted this month and gave me some feedback. *nudge nudge wink wink* Aaand that's the end of my shameless plug.

Thanks again y'all! Leave a review, shoot me a PM, follow, favorite...you know the drill.

Two more chapters...Love y'all!