Note: All of the scenes in this chapter are based off of the movie version, except for the part at the ford, which is based off of the book. So basically there is no Arwen running around trying to be as cool Glorfindel. :) The time lapses are also book-based.
The sun was creeping beneath the green hills of the Shire, sending out golden rays touched with pink as dusk threw its cloak across the heavens. The stars peered out from their lofty homes as the world prepared for rest. Everything exuded an air of comfort and tranquility. Suddenly, the picturesque silence was shattered by a high pitched whine as nine figures rode through the gloom.
"Are we there yet?" This came from Krith, who was still miserably scratching the midge bites he'd so generously received in Midgewater. Heck, they weren't even supposed to get bug bites! Were they some sort of spectral parasite?
"We'll get there when we get there!" The Witch King said irritably, jerking his horse's reins as they plodded forward. One could only be asked that age-old question for so long (53 times and counting) before something snapped.
"No need to get uncivil about a simple question, Chief." Zag said, coming to Krith's defense as he slumped over his horse's neck.
"Shut your mouth before I shut it for you!"
"Jeez, someone's having a bad day." Ski muttered, attempting to scrub the weariness from his features.
After over a week and a half of strenuous riding, the Nazgûl were tired and cranky. And this was before they had even reached their destination.
"Alright, who's got The Map?" The Boss asked shortly after a few more minutes of silent riding. They were just past the borders of the Shire, and that Gollum prisoner unfortunately hadn't been able to assist in any more specific directions. Rude.
"Udu." Several wraiths chorused, turning (rather slowly and painfully) in their saddles to point at the aforementioned Nazgul, who sunk a little lower in his robes.
"Hand me The Map, Udu." The Chief ordered, reaching out a hand to retrieve the all-important Map.
"Uhh, I, uh, gave it to Khamul." He stuttered nervously, looking for all the world like a slowly melting pool of black ooze as he slid lower in his seat.
"And I gave it back!" Khamûl retorted, refusing to be dragged into someone else's incompetence.
"And who exactly did you give it back to?" The Boss clipped out, his fuse growing shorter by the second at the forthcoming delays.
"I set it next to the food stores when we made camp yesterday."
"Oh, was that what this was?" Rut asked innocently, holding up a shredded -was that bite marks?- and mangled piece of paper. "I thought it was our dessert."
"Rut, I told you that paper's bad for your complexion!" Gakh scolded as he eyed the mutilated page disapprovingly.
"It's so good though! I couldn't help…" Rut began before quailing under the threatening glare of their already highly peeved Captain.
"Is. That. The. Map?" He ground out, forcing the words past gritted teeth.
"Yeess?" Came the frightened squeak.
If the Ringwraiths had ever wondered what a human-sized volcano would look like, they now knew as they gazed upon the errupting Chief. "YOU ATE THE MAP?!"
"Captain, your blood pressure!" Krith cried, trying to be helpful yet failing utterly as the Witch King's wrath was now turned towards him.
"MY BLOOD PRESSURE IS FINE!"
"...you sure?..."
"Why don't we ask a local for directions?" Kraak intervened hastily, knowing that heads would start to roll if the Boss wasn't quickly distracted. (And seeing as they couldn't die, those heads would be sure to roll multiple times) "After all, it can't get much worse."
Right on cue, thunder cracked across the sky as rain immediately started to fall, drenching the group in opposition to Kraak's words.
"You just had to say it." Khamûl groaned, pulling his hood further up on his head. Trust it to storm right at this exact moment. Had Kraak accidentally done some sort of rain dance or something? Or did the Valar just hate them? Probably the latter. The lieutenant glared at the overcast sky in defiance of those ancient beings. The only plus side to the downpour was that it served to cool their leader's temper somewhat. Maybe there was a slight silver lining, Khamûl pondered. Call it a hidden blessing? A gift?
The rain suddenly stopped.
"I'm sorry, fellas." The Boss let out a heavy sigh as he wiped his wet forehead, staring at his surroundings morosely. "This mission has got me super worked up-"
"Didn't notice." Udu grumbled resentfully, disgruntled at the thought he'd have to oil his armor again tonight to prevent rusting. Sauron really needed to provide higher quality gear for his servants. Might be a good idea to bring it up when we get back. That and Evil Servant Appreciation Day gifts...
"-but we just have to succeed. " The Chief continued as they rode up to a simple-looking home, that was really a hole, outside which a strange little creature (Hobbit, as they called themselves) stood puffing on his evening pipe.
"Okay, Ski, go ask him for directions to Baggins's house." The Chief instructed as they pulled up a few yards away from the unsuspecting hobbit.
"Aw, why me?"
"Because your Captain commands! Now, shoo!"
Ski reluctantly approach the creature, who looked up with a frightened start at the looming figure above him. Dang, he's tiny. This is the type of creature that kept the Ring from Master all those years? The idea made Ski want to laugh, and he was dangerously close to letting out an undignified snort as it was. He pulled himself together and bent a little to deliver his request. It wouldn't do to show weakness in front of your enemy, no matter how small and unintimidating.
"Hi, um, I was wondering if you knew where-"
Ski, being a logical wraith, had spoken in Black Speech, so all the hobbit heard coming from this scary stranger was kjak haglei wpojf knohfg. (Or something like that) And so, being a reasonable hobbit, he proceeded to do the only reasonable thing such a reasonable hobbit like himself would do: scream bloody murder, run inside (reasonably fast) and slam the door with vigor.
"What did I do? Was it the stench?" Ski asked worriedly as his companions rode up. "I mean, we've been riding on horses for almost two weeks…"
"I won't deny that you smell." Zag chuckled in spite of his soaking robes and steed. "The inhabitants apparently don't know Black Speech."
"Wow, genius right here." Gakh called jokingly as they pushed their horses faster along the cobblestone road.
"Hey look, it's another one!" Rut said, pointing towards a hobbit walking ahead of them. "I'm going to wave, first impressions and all that."
The middle-aged hobbit turned at the sound of hooves, holding his lantern up higher to peer into the gloom. "Who goes there?" He called gruffly.
"Hiii!" Rut greeted as he ran past, waving cheerily. At least, that was what he meant to do. Unfortunately, he'd forgotten his sword was drawn and in his waving hand, allowing for the suddenly decapitation that occurred.
"Really, Rut? I'll do the next one." Krith volunteered as they clopped along the road to the next 'house'. "I'm good with people."
"Are you sure?" Udu put in doubtfully, eyeing the hobbit who was chopping wood in his front yard. "He has an axe."
"So what, now he's a serial killer?" Khamûl snorted, appraising the situation with an experienced eye.
"Maybe. Stranger Danger 101."
The man's dog noticed them at this point and began to bark furiously while the little man gazed nervously at the menacing group that had parked unabashedly on his poor petunia bed.
"Rather rude of the dog." Kraak remarked in an undertone to Gakh. "What've we done to deserve such barking?"
"Canine manners, man."
The hobbit still stood before them with fear in his eyes, uncertainty flooding his face.
"You're up, then, Krith." The Chief said, with a nod of encouragement. Axe or no axe, they were going to get that Ring back if it kille-. Darn, The Boss thought in frustration. Appropriate provincially sayings are so much harder to think up when you're undead. People don't realize how tough we got it...
At this point, the overwhelming awesomeness of the wraiths was apparently too much for the dog, who started to whimper and backed into the hole.
"Yeah, dog, that's who's boss." Udu smirked at the animal's terror, pulling a face at him before he slunk out of sight.
"Shh, let Krith talk." Khamûl insisted as the hobbit's uneasiness clearly grew.
"Oh, and ask him where the best beer can be found around here." Zag added pleadingly. "I'm simply parched."
"You had three tumblers full at the last tavern!" Ski protested. "No, ask where we can get some meat."
"Oooh, what about a pancreas pie?" Gakh hummed in delight.
"Guys, I won't be able to ask him anything if you all don't shut up for a minute." Krith the Impromptu Translator replied with more than a fair touch of sarcasm. ("I'm so proud." Khamûl choked out. "My snark lessons paid off.")
"Touché." Kraak agreed.
Krith cleared his throat loudly before hissing softly in the Common Tongue: "Shire...Baggins…" He was rewarded for his efforts with the man's trembling reply, "No Baggins around here. They're up by Hobbiton. That way!" He pointed west before hurrying into his house as the Nazgûl raced past, eager to reach their quarry.
"Good work, Krith!" The Boss congratulated.
"Told ya I was good with people!"
One Week Later…
"I can't believe you let them get away!" The Witch King growled unhappily.
"There was water!"
"And sharks are in water!"
"And sharks are bad!"
"They ruined my surfing career!"
"Okay, okay," The Chief relented, mentally kicking himself for the prank he'd pulled that had instigated the wraiths' fear of water. It comes back to bite you every time… "Where are they headed now?"
"A little town called Bree." Rut commented, still shuddering from his too-close-for-comfort encounter with water. "We can sense the Ring there."
"What're we waiting for then? Forward onto Bree!" The Captain cried, wheeling his mount around towards the distant hamlet.
"I feel like this is when the dramatic music is supposed to start playing…"
"We make our own music, we are the music." Udu informed him.
"Dum dum da! Dum dum da! Dum da da dah! Da da dah!"
The Nazgûl soon reached Bree, and were momentarily stopped by the tall hedge surrounding the village. An unpleasant drizzle had started, giving a gloomy air to the town as they congregated at the gate.
"Should we knock?" Ski asked after a pause.
"Heroes on an important mission need not condescend to knock." Zag said with an air of importance, fluffing the collar of his robe self-righteously.
"But we're setting an example for all the children who shall read about how our famous band was begun and strive to be like us." Kraak argued. "Let's show some good form."
"So we knock, but then we can run the gatekeeper over, right?" Gakh asked hopefully, rubbing his metal-coated hands together in glee.
"Definitely."
"'Defs' would be way cooler, Kraak."
"I haven't played 'crush-the-innocent-person-standing-in-your-way' for a long time." Udu remarked thoughtfully.
"Okay, who's knocking then?" Khamûl questioned, clutching his saddle to prevent an imminent greeting with the dirt, one he'd rather avoid.
"I will." The Chief stated, riding up to the door and giving a good, firm knock to the praise of his subordinates.
"Nice technique there."
"All in the wrist, man."
"Solid, solid."
"That form, though."
"Aaaand, CHARGE!" They cried as they burst through the wooden door, trampling it (and ole' Harry the gatekeeper) into the mud as they swerved through the narrow streets of Bree.
Let that be a lesson, children. If you ever turn spy for evil men, you will be squashed and stampeded on by said evil men with a very large (and structurally unsound) wooden board.
"There! They're in that inn!" Krith called, gesturing at a sign that bore the words The Prancing Pony alongside a ridiculously overweight rearing horse.
The Ringwraiths skidded to a halt while the Chief ordered Udu, Zag, Khamûl and Gakh inside to finish off the pesky hobbits. The chosen four clumsily dismounted and stealthily opened the door, moving in single file past the main hall and up the stairs.
"Steady now, men." Khamûl whispered as he cautiously turned the door handle, allowing them to view the four hobbits snugly ensconced in their beds. "On my mark."
Each wraith positioned himself over a bed, drawing his sword to hold quivering inches above the rough woolen covers.
"3...2...1...NOW!"
Silver blades plunged downwards rapidly, churning and slashing the sheets in a frenzy of stabbing.
Khamûl grinned manically as he finally pulled his sword from the wrecked bed. The hobbits were dead, all that was left was to take the Ring, return to Master and start their band. He pulled back the covers, fully expecting to met one very dead hobbit, (He prided himself on his stabbing skills) when instead...there was nothing. Zero. Null. Nada. Zilch.
Except, that is, for a hastily scribbled note that contained only a single word: Suckers. Someone had also drawn a little laughing smiley face next to the descriptive message. Based on his fellow wraiths' various reactions, Khamûl knew they all had found similarly insulting letters. With cries of frustration and hate, they overturned the beds and fled back downstairs, more determined than ever to find and end these miserable roaches.
Six Days Later…
"There they are." Ski breathed, peering out from a bush to stare at the glimmering campfire clearly visible on Weathertop. How dumb did those hobbits think they were? Their roasting dinner could be smelled miles away, and sausages, tomatoes, and bacon weren't one of your normal wilderness scents.
"Wait until that man leaves, then we strike." The Chief ordered in a low tone, loosening his blade in its sheath.
"Do you have anything particularly gruesome in mind for the one who stole Master's jewelry?" Gakh asked interestedly. "I'd like to see the little wretch squirm on a spike, personally."
"I don't think He'd like you calling it jewelry." Zag snickered.
"Just calling it like it is, brother. So how about it, Boss?"
"Well, Sauron did give me something, a weapon, to use at my discretion-" At this, he pulled out a thin and wickedly sharp dagger, etched with ancient runes that threw off a sense of its dark power. "-a Morgul Blade."
A collective gasp.
"Noooo!"
"You'd make him like US?!"
"But-but-"
"We're supposed to torture him, not the other way around!"
"Has this mission addled your brain?"
"Think of how it'd ruin our image!"
"We have a reputation to uphold!"
"Why?!"
"Okay, okay, calm down." The Boss hushed, placing the knife back in his cloak. "It's only as a last resort. Plus, think on the bright side. You'd be able to torment and tease him forever, not to mention make him do your chores and feed the fell beasts…" The Witch King knew just what buttons to push when it came to his crew.
"Meh, it might work."
"So an eternal servant then?"
"I suppose I could get used to that."
"Alright then, let's go."
The Nazgûl crept across the misty plain and slowly ascended the crumbling watchtower, swords drawn and at the ready. Upon reaching the summit, they saw all four hobbits huddled together in the middle, holding out pitiful little daggers to defend themselves. Noobs.
The Ringwraiths advanced step by step as the Chief shoved aside the others to reach for the one that held the Ring. This hobbit, (Frodo they'd heard him called) stood frozen with shock and sent his knife clattering to the ground, tripping over his large hairy feet and falling on his back.
"Butterfingers." The Witch King muttered, approaching faster.
"What did you call me?" Frodo cried indignantly from the floor.
"Butterfingers." He repeated with an eye roll. "You drop your weapon and run away? What tactical advantage do you ever hope to gain by that move?"
The hobbit blinked. "Actually, I was just thinking about the Ring and keeping it safe."
"Speaking of," The Boss remarked, lowering his sword. "Would you be so kind as to hand that over? We're on rather a tight schedule."
"Oh, I can totally understand. Strider's been pushing us like all of Mordor's after us."
"Nope, just nine. And tell me about overbearing masters."
"Yeah, tell me about it." Khamûl coughed.
"So, the Ring please?"
"You called me Butterfingers!" Frodo shrilled in wounded pride. "So I'm not gonna give you the Ring. It's mine." He stuck out his tongue and slipped the Ring on, disappearing to his companions...but not to the wraiths, who sighed at having to resort to plan B.
"Whatever floats your boat," The Chief shrugged. "But I'm really going to enjoy this." He added as he stabbed the annoying hobbit in the shoulder with the Morgul knife, enjoying the squealing it produced. "Sorry-not-sorry."
"See you in wraith-world!" Gakh laughed.
Suddenly, Strider leaped out of no where, waving around a torch and blade with which he attacked the Ringwraiths quite antagonistically. Rude.
After several minutes of clashing swords, the Nazgûl agreed retreat was preferable to burning up the only clothes they'd brought with them (Let's keep it PG, guys) and hastily fled.
"Fire, really? Who does he think he is, a king?" Krith complained as he stopped, dropped and rolled according to the Mordor Fire Department: Fire Safety Regulations.
"We stuck the hobbit with the Blade, all we have to do now is follow, wait until he starts to weaken, and grab the Ring." The Captain grinned evilly. Man, it felt good to stab that punk. Maybe I should recommend it to my therapist as a stress-reducing activity. It's time for this to end.
Two Weeks Later...
The Nazgûl rode along the road to Rivendell, anxious to reach the ford before the band of misfits that carried the Master's precious Ring did. Time was ticking away and every passing day only increased their desire to complete the mission and start their band. Fame was calling ever more persistently and who were they to refuse her cries?
"Do you think that Frodo's a wraith yet?" Rut wondered, idly picking at his nails. Nail files are incredibly hard to come by while on the road.
"Nah, we'd be able to feel it." Zag assured him. "I can't wait to make him clean my room."
"He'll have his work cut out for him, that's for sure." Kraak smiled, already envisioning the hobbit-soon-to-be-wraith giving him a foot massage. Working for Sauron hardly gave a wraith any 'me time', and Kraak was a staunch believer in the thought that everyone needs to be pampered once in a while.
"Wait...There he is!" Khamûl pointed to a black shape ahead of them, squinting against the afternoon sun's glare. His sunglasses had been left on the beach at Nurnen, and he'd neglected to buy new ones. Some aviators would be classy, though… With a red trim...
"Good," The Chief nodded with a pleased air. "Gakh, you and I will stay on the road. Come up from behind and let them see you. Khamûl, lead the rest to that grove before the ford. Try to cut him off before he can cross it."
"Let's go team!" Udu hooted as they split up to lure their prey to his doom.
Frodo and his companions played their part beautifully, running from Witchy and Gakh and straight past the others, who commenced a furious chase. Someone had evidently thought it a smart idea to put the small hobbit all by himself on a giant elvish horse, who plainly felt disgruntled at carrying the diminutive and fuzzy creature.
The Nazgûl ran their horses hard, but couldn't overtake the swift white steed of Glorfindel the Elf Lord. Finally, Frodo reached the ford and scrambled across it, looking back at his pursuers who had halted at the water's edge.
"Crap…" The Chief grumbled. This should prove to be interesting. The hobbit was beginning to show definite signs of being on the threshold of wraith-ness, as seen by his labored breathing, pallor and glazed eyes. Still the Boss knew not one of his group would venture over the river to fetch Frodo and the Ring. A different strategy must be thought of.
"Feeling alright there, halfling?" He called hopefully,
"How do you think I feel?" Frodo groused, holding his shoulder resentfully.
"Not forgiveness, from what it sounds like."
"You stabbed me."
"You stole our Master's Ring."
"Why do you guys want it so bad?" The hobbit questioned curiously, ignoring the previous statement. "I mean, what's in it for you?"
"A band!" Zag cried before he could stop himself. "Our own band and funded tour!"
"And free cheesecake!" Rut added, drooling a little at the thought.
"A band, huh? That's...actually pretty cool." Frodo said in a surprised voice. "But say I do give you the Ring, what happens to me?"
"Well, you're turning into a wraith whether or not you give us the Ring," Khamûl explained, gesturing at Frodo's demeanor, which was growing more translucent by the minute. "But if you do hand it over, we'll make sure you receive proper wraith training as an employee of the Dark Lord."
"Would I get benefits?"
"Some, yes."
"Would I get my own Ring? Could I be a Ringwraith like you guys?"
The Nazgûl glanced at each other, not having thought of this aspect before. A four foot Ringwraith would definitely bring down their intimidation levels, and Sauron wasn't likely to rain free rings on people who'd stolen from him, but still...
"If you're really, really, really, really good and don't misbehave…" The Boss trailed off, the partial answer all he was comfortable giving at the moment. "And you'd need to tell us where your friends went and what they're planning to do."
"Oh, piece of cake. They're hiding in bushes behind you waiting to jump out and scare you guys. I told them it was a stupid idea, but no one listens…"
Kraak, Udu, and Ski turned around and faced the shrubbery, so as not to be caught off guard by the scheming hobbits, man and elf.
"So you're giving us the Ring?" Krith said, shifting away from the rushing waters several feet from his horse's hooves.
"I'll make a deal. You all seem like decent enough fellows, so if you let me be part of your band, I'll return the Ring and we can all go to Mordor."
This was certainly the unexpected pill to swallow!
"Give us a minute." The Witch King told him, maneuvering to face his subordinates for a quick meeting. They all quietly conferred for a minute while Frodo sat waiting impatiently and uncomfortably on Asfolath before they turned back to him.
"Alright, we accept you deal." The Boss decided, sheathing his sword with a snick. "You shall be our fan club manager."
"Whaat?" Came from Frodo as he crossed back over the river.
"Welcome to the club, buddy!" Ski congratulated him as the Captain scooped up the Ring from the hobbit's hands.
"I'll take that then, Master will be most pleased." He said with a sigh of relief.
That's when Aragorn, Glorfindel and the hobbits chose to attack. They came yelling, waving torches, but stopped short at the sight of a now-invisible Frodo chatting with the dreaded Nazgûl.
"What's going on here?" Aragorn demanded, swinging his torch in what he hoped was a kingly and threatening manner.
"Oh, sorry, but we'll be taking the Ring and Wraith-Frodo with us," Udu commented nonchalantly as Rut pulled Wraith-Frodo onto his horse. "You can keep your horse, though." They all laughed and galloped away towards Mordor and glory.
"Die, scum!" Glorfindel screamed, thrusting his sword at their retreating figures. How dare they leave without challenging him to a fight to the death!
"Mr. Frodo!" Sam wailed, looking like a child who lost his mother.
"Ta-ta, Sam!" Wraith-Frodo called back gleefully, quickly shrinking in the distance. "I'm going to be famous!"
About halfway back to Minas Morgul, Wraith-Frodo brought up a question none of the Nazgûl had really thought of until then.
"So, what's the name of this band exactly?"
"Uhh…It's, uh..." The WItch King faltered, looking pleadingly to the ever inventive Zag for ideas.
"We're The DeadBeats!" Zag crowed, swerving around Krith as he mentally reminding himself that Witchy now owed him one. Genius is hard work.
"I like it!" Khamûl grinned, tasting the name on his month. "To the DeadBeats, then!"
"We don't have anything to toast with, idiot!" Kraak shouted above the sound of pounding hooves.
"Figuratively!"
"Master will be so proud!" Rut cried happily as they rode (figuratively) into the sunset.
The Chief smiled in contentment. "Yes. Yes, He will be."
THE END
*Warning: long author's note ahead*
It's done! But do not fret, a sequel shall come! A I want to give everyone who's read, followed, favorited, and reviewed on this fic a huge THANK YOU. I couldn't have done it without your support. (I really mean that) I love you all so much! *hugs* Today it has also been a year to the date since I originally posted NNFT. Coincidence? Nope.
As to future plans, I intend to work on several LotR humor one shots, (think Elrond's household) as well as another longer, more serious story. A sequel (Titled: Then There Were Ten) will be written as promised, though I really can't say how soon/late it will be. So if you don't already, follow me to stay updated on our lovely Ringwraiths! :)
The references in the last chapter was Darth Vader's "Impressive. Most impressive." from Empire Strikes Back and "Nothing whatever? Nothing whatever!" from the animated Alice in Wonderland. In regards to the poll, Witchy, Khamûl, and Zag are tied for first. Who will win? *dum dum dum!* So go ahead and vote for your favorites! And any OOC-ness on the characters' part *coughFrodocough* is intended and meant in good fun.
One last note: several of you over the past year have shared many funny videos, pictures, and cartoons of our beloved Nazgûl, some of which have a shockingly close resemblance to my wraiths. In case you wondered, while I love these pictures, videos, etc, none of them were my 'muse' for creating this story. That came from The Littlest Balrog by Dragon Confused. (It's on my favorite stories list, I'd highly recommend it.) That was when I first ever thought about writing a fic for the 'bad guys'. :) If you wanted to know...
Thanks again for the awesome journey, may the grace of the Valar guide you!
~Earial