I began this evening with a simple goal: To deliver a letter. It's now the middle of the night, I'm covered in bits of giant-arachnid carapace and goo, and I'm about to die at the hands of an immortal wraith guided by the ultimate evil in the world.
So, this could have gone better, I guess.
The Nazgul draws near, waving around his Really Super Evil Sword. He's got a few human ruffians on his side, but I have no idea why. Once you have magic and you can't be killed, you just don't have a lot of need for backup. This is like a dragon taking a couple of pigeons along when raiding a town. He's got a sword, a horse, some magic, and four thousand years of endless unlife under his belt. His henchmen are just guys with clubs. I sort of feel sorry for them until I remember that I'm about to die.
Boffin begins cowering. He's been doing that all night, but this time I think he's onto something. I cower along with him. It's not bad.
The Nazgul checks his horse and stops, towering over us. He waits. I'm wondering if Boffin will get the knife first, or if I will. After all he's put us through, it seems only fair that he should go first.
I glance upward and realize the Nazgul is still hovering over us. He's not attacking. I suspect he's come to an abrupt realization:
These Hobbits are very small. I'm going to have to climb down off my horse if I want to stab them. Shit.
There's a long awkward moment while he decides if we're really worth the effort. While he's making up his mind, someone leaps out of the brush and shoots some arrows into his useless henchmen. Yay! Someone has come to save us! It's...