By James Haines (aka: Hstaphath)
Narrative Interlude: Weathertop
Narrator: After a narrow escape in Bree, Aragorn and the Hobbits flee eastward toward Rivendell. With the light of the setting sun fading quickly, they make camp for the night at the ruins of Amon Sul. Known simply as "Weathertop," it is the tallest and most southerly of the weather Hills.
Pippin: Hey Merry, let's start a fire!
Merry: Too right, we'll get dinner going and surprise the others.
Narrator: It is here that 5 of the black riders of Mordor, the dread Nazgul, catch up to them.
Head Nazgul: Ni!
Nazgul Who Say Ni: Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!
Frodo: Who are you?!
Head Nazgul: We are the ring-wraiths, the Nazgul Who Say... "Ni!"
Frodo: No! Not the Nazgul Who Say "Ni!?"
Head Nazgul: The very same!
Merry: Who are they?
Head Nazgul: We are the cursed undead servants of Mordor, keepers of the sacred words: Ni, Peng, and Neee-wom!
Nazgul No. 4: Neee-wom!
Frodo: Those who hear them seldom live to tell the tale.
Head Nazgul: The Nazgul Who Say "Ni" demand a sacrifice.
Frodo: Nazgul of Ni, we are but poor traveling hobbit salesmen who—
Head Nazgul: Ni!
Nazgul Who Say Ni: Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!...
Frodo: (viciously wounded) Ow! Ow! Ow! Agh!
Head Nazgul: We shall say "Ni" again to you if you do not appease us.
Frodo: (struggling against the pain) Well, what do you want of us?
Head Nazgul: We want... the Ring!
Nazgul Who Say Ni: Ni! Ni! Ni! Ni!
Frodo: Ow! Oh!
Pippin: Ow! Ow! Agh!
Merry: Ow! Oh! Ow!
Narrator: Just when all seemed lost, Aragorn jumps into the scene brandishing a torch.
Aragorn: (waving the torch menacingly at the Nazgul) Pippin! Merry! Quickly now, drag Frodo behind these bushes!
Pippin: Sure, why not.
Merry: Right, okay.
Head Nazgul: Resistance is futile. We outnumber you five to one, mortal!
Aragorn: (jumping behind the bushes with the hobbits) Ah ha, foul fiends! Do you not recognize what this is?!
Head Nazgul: No! This can not be!
Nazgul Who Say Ni: A shrubbery!
Head Nazgul: A nice looking one, at that... but obviously not too expensive.
Aragorn: Yes, a shrubbery!
Head Nazgul: You may have gained the upper hand this time, but we shall meet again!
Aragorn: Ha! Now... go!
Narrator: Aragorn had narrowly saved the hobbits from the foul ring-wraiths, but Frodo was seriously wounded. Sam, who had fallen asleep earlier behind the shrubbery, missed the whole ruddy thing. Luckily, an elf from the home of Elrond chanced upon them and bore the unconscious Frodo to the "Last Homely House"— Rivendell.