Andagora was surprised how quickly Mordor faded into the gloomy distance behind them. One minute the Black Gates loomed hugely behind them, and the next they were a tiny speck in the distance across the Plain of Dagorlad. By daybreak, they were fording the River Running, and the death horses barely seemed winded. Sweaty and a bit frothy at the mouth, certainly, but Andagora noticed that her horse seemed more spirited, and more pungent, the sweatier it got.

She leaned over to rasp into its ear, "I don't know what you're made of, Hengest, but you are one damn impressive creature." The horse whinnied shrilly, and Andagora shrieked a terrifying scream of joy in return; cries which echoed up and down the line of Nazg�l. Naturally, she was not riding point. They never let her near the front or the back, but always in the center of their line. Andagora privately thought that if they were really looking to keep her safe (as if she needed it; they were the most terrifying things on the road!), they ought to ride in a diamond formation where she could be completely surrounded in case of attack. That was always how she'd ridden when she was a mortal princess, though even her body guards had acknowledged that she was no bad hand with a sword. Why couldn't these cloaked idiots see that she was just as capable as they; more so if one took into account that she didn't have any sort of agenda, and wasn't thinking with her non-existent . . . well what could you expect?

Earlier in the trip, she'd noticed that Sauron had made it difficult for the Nine to speak. Whenever one tried to ride alongside her and chat her up (as if she could hear their stupid rasping at this mad gallop!), she noticed that he would inevitably clutch a little at the place where his throat should be, before giving up and returning to the line. Eventually, she realized that he had only granted them limited powers of speech for the purposes of the trip. The only sound they seemed to be able to make without difficulty was the infamous, blood-curdling screech they had perfected in the battles of the last Age.

Clever, Andagora thought. Very clever indeed. Thanks Sauron. That should help keep them in line. Interestingly enough, she noticed that her own powers of communication had not been diminished. She supposed that they would have to let her do most of the talking this trip. Just as well, too, after the last time they had been sent out.

At the beginning of the Age, Sauron had thought he'd located the ring, and had dispatched the Nazg�l to investigate. It had turned out to be a false alarm, which had made tracking the damn thing a tiring and fruitless chore. The journey alone had made her wish she was capable of killing herself.

They had not taken the form of Black Riders then, since they weren't sure if it was really The Ring they were tracking. Sauron had been afraid that they would be recognized if they took that shape, and feared the Elves would march on Mordor and put a stop to things before they properly started. He had been too weak to handle such an attack, and had conserved his strength by giving the Nazg�l rather boring forms with no powers whatsoever; they were plain, grey figures wrapped in cloaks, and they road real horses, which often tired and needed food and water. And all throughout that dull journey, one or another of those great kings of men would come up to her and ask, stammering like schoolboys, if she wanted, maybe, to do something -- just as friends -- when they got their bodies back. It had been the most pathetic display she had ever seen. Finally she had announced that the next Nazg�l who spoke to her about something that did not directly pertain to their mission would eat broadsword, which seemed to silence them.

It had been especially embarrassing when they were forced to question people along the way. Andagora would never forget the Witch-King's ridiculous display at that first farm.

"Oy! You! Farmer!" he hollered. His voice came out rather high, and Andagora thought he sounded like a boy whose voice is changing.

The old farmer slowly plodded over to his fence, leaning against it and leisurely lighting his pipe. "Steady on there, sonny," he said. "What can I do for you travelers?"

"Um, right. We're looking for a ring. Have you seen it?"

The farmer looked at their party, raising one eyebrow and squinting as he did so. He scratched his chin. "I've seen a lot of rings, sonny. Your gonna have to tell me what it looks like before I can help you."

"Oh, um, right. Well, it's gold, plain gold, not too thick, not too thin."

"Heck, sonny, I've got a ring like that," the farmer said, holding up one calloused hand. "Came down to me through my granddaddy. Ain't she a beaut?"

At which point, to Andagora's complete and total horror, the Witch-King had leaped down out of his saddle and tackled the farmer to the ground, shouting, "Give it here, give it here!" wrestling. The farmer's wife came racing from the house with a broom, which she used to beat the Witch-King over the head. The other Eight leaped off their horses and knocked the woman senseless, bashing in the farmer's head, killing him. One cut off the dead man's hand and the Nine trooped into the farm house and flung the hand into the fire. Andagora slowly dismounted, tied up her horse, tied up the other flighty horses, and made her way to the farm house. When she got inside, she found the Nine crouched in front of the fireplace, each trying to reach his hand into the flames to pull back the ring, each cursing as his fingers burnt.

Without saying a word, Andagora gently pushed them all aside, took the poker from the bin next to the fireplace, and stabbed it through the hand, hauling the whole thing back to the hearth. She stepped on the hand, and, using a corner of her cloak, pulled the hot ring off the finger. She held it up to her eyes, and could feel the burning metal through the fabric singeing her fingers. There was no writing. She flung the ring back to the hearth, where the Nine dove at it.

"There's nothing there, you morons," she called over her shoulder as she made her way out the door. She untied her horse and mounted it, waiting as the Nine slowly left the house one by one, their heads hanging. She had never been so humiliated to be part of this troop in her long life.

Andagora quickly brushed that memory from her mind. That entire venture was just too pathetic too contemplate at the moment. If she could have, she would have blushed. Resolutely, she fixed her mind on the mission at hand. Another half a days ride would bring them to the heart of the Misty Mountains where they were to interrogate the orcs who'd found that Gollum creature. Perhaps they had some idea where this Shire place was.

It was odd, Andagora thought, that in all the years she had known Sauron and Gayawen, that they had never once mentioned this Shire before. They had all spent countless hours over the Ages in the expansive map room Sauron insisted be maintained at Barad-d�r. Gayawen had copied entire maps of Middle Earth herself by hand from the Elven archives at Rivendell long ago, and always made sure they were in good repair. Sauron had plans for invasion and conquest of every city and country there was. How had they missed this one corner of the world, and how had everyone failed to notice these hobbits?

That was the thing that worried Andagora the most, and she knew that by now it must be plaguing Gayawen as well. The elf had once explained to Andagora that Sauron had forged rings for every sentient race of Middle Earth so as to gain the allegiance of all through his one ring. He had not bothered making rings for the Ents, on Gayawen's advice. They would never leave Fangorn Forest, and she had always thought that, if it came to the worst, they could set fire to region. But these hobbits . . .what were they, and what did their presence foretell?

Before she could mire herself with the complicated ins and outs of the matter, Andagora found herself pulling up the reigns as the ten Nazg�l began their ascent up the path into the Misty Mountains. Andagora looked around, amazed as morning light flooded the forest in the foothills, casting long shadows before them. Surely they hadn�t covered so much ground in only a few hours? If they continued at this rate, they would reach the orc�s headquarters near the summit before noon.

At Barad-d�r, Gayawen awoke ravenous. She shuffled over to her mirror and peered at her reflection, recoiling a little.

�Girl,� she said to herself. �For one of the Children of Eru, you look like shit on a stick.� She set the kettle on, doffed her gown, crumpled from sleeping in it, and shuffled into the adjoining bathing room. She sat in the chilly carved tub, shivering a little as her bare skin hit the polished granite, and pulled the little lever set into the wall next to her. A little trap door in the woodwork opened to reveal a small sluice, which poured hot water into the tub. When it was full, Gayawen pulled the lever again, and the sluice slid upright, disappearing as the hidden door closed and vanished.

Gayawen shut her eyes and slid under the water, blowing little bubbles back to the surface as she ran her fingers through her long hair. She surfaced, sighing as she began to scrub the grime of Mordor from her body.

She was wrapped in a towel lounging on her divan sipping a cup of Tension Tamers, thinking that the damn stuff did grow on one after a while, when her husband sent her the distinct impression of giggling.

Gayawen, quick! You've got to get up here and see this!

It was rare that Sauron was in such a good mood after they�d had a fight, so she indulged him by quickly dressing, pouring him a cup of tea, and heading to the tower. When she arrived at the top, she saw the Eye fixed on an uncovered palantir.

Get over here, he commanded. Now, check this out.

Gayawen peered into the palantir obediently. The misty image swirled for a moment before settling on two old men locked in some kind of battle. The one in white had two staffs that he seemed to be using against the man wearing grey. Gayawen looked up quizzically at her husband.

"Curun�r and Ol�rin?"

Yup.

"Wow. How did that get started?"

It was so cool. Ol�rin barged in to Isengard � that�s where Curun�r lives � and started in on how he found the ring �

�Ha-ha! A little late, huh?�

Well, apparently it had been under his nose the whole time. He went on some stupid adventure in the Mountains with some dwarves and a hobbit called �get this � Bilbo !

�Oh my, what cruel parents!�

Yeah, and I thought my name sucked. Anyway, Bilbo�s last name is Baggins, and he�s the one who got the ring from the Gollum creature and took it back to his home in the Shire. Ol�rin knew that Bilbo had a ring that made its wearer invisible, but he never suspected it was my ring until he realized that everyone who wore it became obsessed with it. I guess this Bilbo guy started to get a little . . .you know.

�Evil?�

Yeah. So Ol�rin when to Gondor went through Isildur�s old stuff and somehow figured out that this was my ring that stupid hobbit had.

�OK, so why are the two old guys trying to kill each other?� Gayawen asked, pouring her husband�s cup of tea over the flaming eye.

Ahh. That feels good. Um, why? Well, that�s a funny story. Ol�rin is telling all this to Curun�r, saying how catastrophic it would be if we got the ring back, and how it�s gotta be destroyed before we deploy the Nazg�l.

�Wow, did you call that one! But he�s sort of too late, right?�

Let�s hope. Anyway, Ol�rin is going on about how he�ll be in my thrall if I get my ring back, blah, blah, blah, and Curun�r suddenly starts freaking out with jealousy. Then he goes and blows it and tells Ol�rin that he�s on my side -

�Oh shit!�

Really! And then he goes completely fucking nuts, and starts trying to kill Ol�rin and get his ring, screaming, �I want a ring! I want a ring! He�s having me build an army for him, I should get a ring too! What�s so damn special about you, Gandalf!�

�That�s a riot! Especially since you weren�t the one who gave Gandalf the ring in the first place. Didn�t you give that one to Gil-Galad first?�

Well, technically. But I made sure it went to Ol�rin when Gil-Galad died, and Curun�r has been pissed about that for well over an Age now.

�I see. And that�s what brought this little bitch-fest on?� Gayawen asked, indicating to the palantir, where she saw Ol�rin flying rapidly toward the ceiling of the room.

Yup, pretty much. Neat, huh?

�Actually, yeah,� Gayawen agreed, settling herself down next to the eye. �I�m going to have breakfast sent up here, ok? I don�t want to miss a minute of this.�

Sure thing. Look, I�m sorry about yesterday. There�s just a lot going on right now, you know?

�Sweetie, I understand. It�s water under the bridge.�

Good, The Dark Lord said, sending her the impression of a hug. Hey Gayawen?

�Hmm?�

Could you have them send up more Tension Tamers?

The Dark Lord�s consort smiled. �Sure.�