A Challenge for the Nine

The Decree of Sauron

     The sound of heavy armored footsteps echo in the halls of Barad Dûr as Er-Murazor answers the summons of his master. His mind wanders over the possibilities of his presence being required. The armies of orks are multiplying and, as rowdy as they are, training is going well. Not only that, but supplies and weapons of war such as swords, armor, and catapults are being constructed on schedule and as planned. One of his brethren, Adunaphel, had even improved the design of the artillery to increase the accuracy of it.

     Yet, when Sauron summoned him, the tone was not one of praise, but of displeasure. Whatever the reason is, he will soon find out. 

     As the Witch King strides through the open hallways, the orks stationed around the fortress, previously drinking or immersed in conversation, snap to attention, startled by the appearance of one of the nine. Er-Murazor, of course, pays them no heed. The need to reprimand a few, slacking guards is not enough to waylay him from his purpose.

     He is close to the reason of his visit, and at last, the nazgûl enters the throne room and kneels before the Dark Lord.

"You summoned me, my master."

     The Lord of Mordor sits tall and menacing on his dark, twisted throne. He rises and slowly walks down the steps of the dais towards his black captain.

"Yes, there are some... concerns I would like to address with you."

"My Lord, I have done everything as you said. The preparations for war could not be going better, and-"

"It is not about these matters that I have called you here. It is about you and the rest of the nine."

     The Witch King did not expect to hear that his master's displeasure lay with he and his brethren. He raises his head in a unspoken question, seeking out the core of the Dark Lord's disapproval.

"Perhaps you can explain why my most loyal and infamous servants are bickering like petulant  school-children."

     Under his master's cool demeanor, Er-Murazor can sense his mounting anger. He will have to answer very carefully and assure him that these shortcomings will not go unattended.

"Since our time separated, some of the nine have forgotten their places in our order. I will amend this immediately."

"There is no need."

     The Dark Lord waves his hand dismissively.

"I have already decided how to handle this situation."

"My Lord?"

"I have sensed division among you. Even as you grow stronger in your own ways, the bonds that hold you together as brethren are weakening. You are forgetting how to work with each other and that is something I will not have. That is why I am going to give you something; a shared responsibility. I chose this because it will be a challenge to all of you. The object of this conversation will arrive in Minas Morgûl in two days. Be prepared."

"Yes, My Lord."

     Er-Murazor needs no verbal sign from his master to know he is dismissed. Not a moment passes before he straightens and sets out to return to his fortress and relay the biddings of Sauron to the rest of his brethren.

"And he made no mention of what this challenge may be?"

     The Nazgûl are gathered in a council room in Minas Morgûl. The Witch King has told them of their lord's trouble with them and his solution to amend it. Adunaphel, the one who had just spoken, continues to wonder aloud.