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Title: Annoying Elf Lords (#3543)
Author: trekqueen
Chapters: 1

Archive: Tolkien
Category: Lord of the Rings
Description: The Witch King of Angmar enjoys frightening and controlling the masses; however, he dislikes meddling elves. Short birthday fic for my friend Space Weavil.
Published: 30 Jul 2007
Updated: 30 Jul 2007
Warnings: goofy-ness
Type: Horror
Characters: Witch King of Angmar; Khamûl; Nazgul; Glorfi


Chapter 1 - Annoying Elf Lords

Author’s Notes: This if a little one-shot for Space Weavil's birthday today. I know I can do no justice compared to her Nazgul but I thought I would try bringing some Witch King fun. Enjoy!!!

Disclaimer: I own nothing and do not make anything financially off of my fan fiction. Everything belongs to Tolkien.

Annoying Elf Lords


“This is not going well,” the smaller Nazgul grimaced.

“Shut up you fool,” the Witch King snarled, his gaze upon the fighting troops in the distance.

“It looks like they are retreating,” Khamûl the Nazgul added. “Damned elves always have to show up at the last minute with some grand entrance.”

With a growl, the Witch King dug his heels into the sides of his black horse, tearing down the mountainside toward the war hanging in the balance.

“Why do you two try to antagonize him so much?” Nazgul #3 sighed. “He already is upset enough about moving the orcs out too early.”

“He should have known that Cirdan was up to no good,” grumbled the small Nazgul who had been called a fool. “Should have taken his city before Gondor showed up.”

“Better not insult his battle tactics in front of him,” Khamûl mentioned. “You might end up with him threatening to hurt you with his scepter. I suggest also you do not ask what he intends to do with it.”

"Shall we go help him?” Nazgul #3 asked.

“Nay, he can handle it on his own,” Khamûl shrugged.

* * * * *
“Cower before me, mortals and servants!” the Witch King of Angmar bellowed, hewing at foes while he rode into the fray. Behind his mask he laughed a hideous and rumbling sound that reverberated through the souls of all near him. “You shall die by my hand.”

Not far away, a man stood tall and proud. The Witch King recognized him as Eärnur, Captain of the Gondorian army that had caused such disarray and many casualties among his own troops. Pointing his sword at the man, the Witch King clenched his teeth and rode after him with a screeching cry, his horse’s grunts more like snarls and bellows of a fell beast. Before he could strike at the son of Gondor, the man’s horse turned and fled. Triumphant, the Witch King rallied his troops and set to bear down on the remaining Gondor force and fellow elves of Lindon.

“Be gone, foul monster of the shadows!” came a cry from behind the Witch King.

Turning around, a bright light blinded the black-robed Nazgul but he knew who had come upon him. The overwhelming strength and power of the Valar coursed through the challenger and it acted like fire burning the Witch King from within.

“Damn you, cursed Elf!” hissed the leader of the Nazgul as he fled, the last of his military trying to follow but being slaughtered in their tracks while the Gondorians and Rivendell elves overtook them.

* * * * *
The eight Nazgul peered around the corner of the doorframe where the Witch King sat upon his dark throne, a dagger dangling in his grasp while he glared out the window where the last remnants of his troops staggered into Mordor hurt and decimated. Even with his dark mask on, they could tell he did not wish to be bothered.

“Was there not supposed to be another battalion that was supposed to keep Elrond and his prancing, shiny elf out of our way?” the small Nazgul asked. “How did the elf even know the secret prophecy???”

“The Valar probably told him,” Khamûl sneered, stepping away from the room and leaned against the hallway wall. “And there was a troop to stop Rivendell. They were destroyed faster than we anticipated.”

“And whose fault was that, Khamûl?!” growled the Witch King, having overheard the talk outside his room. “I would have your head for this if you were not dead already!”

“No such luck, I am afraid,” Khamûl spat back before storming down the hallway, orcs scurrying out of his way.

“What now, my lord?” the smaller Nazgul asked, groveling before the throne.

“I have a plan…” the Witch King said slowly.

“Does it involve killing and razing?” one of the other Nazguls asked, poking around a corner.

“Of course it does, imbecile,” the darkened shadow that was once a man snapped at him. “Be gone from my sight while I plot!”

“Fine. Fine,” the Nazgul all said as they left the hallway.

Nazgul #3 then whispered when they were far enough away, “There’s no plan but I’m sure we’ll have one by nightfall.”
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