As Eldarion turned the page he paused.  “Someone else wrote this one,” he noted.

            “Uncle Sam!  That is Uncle Sam’s writing,” whispered Melian.

            Aragorn, who was swiftly scanning the writing, nodded.  “And who now living in Endorë knows the subject better?” he asked.

N

Nasty things, the Nazgûl.  Not anything those as are faint of heart need to know much about, perhaps.  From what Lord Strider and Gandalf and Elrond tell us, most was once from Númenor, or descended from Men of Númenor.  Naught but extra young Lords as no one needed there, they sought new lands to make their own.  Each had a notion to be a great nabob, to create a nation to be reckoned with.  Each was afraid of dying as is natural, and wanted to avoid being put into a necropolis if’n it were at all possible.  So, they sailed back to Ennor and each found a new land and people as pleased them, and each named hisself King—or Ghansi, or whatsoever name they give their rulers in those parts.  “All shall fear my name!” each believed.

New Kings, new nations, new victims for Sauron.

Disguising hisself as Annatar, he come to them, kneeling afore them, naming each of them “Great Lord of all Nations,” and nattering at them as to how each could be greater than the rest.  So, he cast his net about them, offering each a new nature, one of unnatural power, telling them as “All shall know they are naught before your presence.  None shall withstand you!”

And they bit!  More fools them, the nameless git.

For, as they took his rings, they lost their names, their selves.  Nameless (’cepting for Khamûl, who took over Dol Guldur when Sauron was known as the Necromancer), they now lost all else.  No bodies, no forms save for what cloaks and armor could give them, no love, no honor.  Their lands mostly fell to naught, their nations dissolving.  Only Angmar was left, although it was perhaps enough to harry Arnor to naught.

They was not dead, but neither was they alive.  No notions of their own was left to them, as it was in Sauron’s name they now served, them enslaved to his will.

The one as was named Witch-king of Angmar thought as no Man could kill him.  No, but a daughter of Man and a Hobbit served instead, and now he was no more!

And when three as was naught but Hobbits sneaked into Sauron’s unnatural nation and brought his Ring to the Sammath Naur and It fell into the Fire at last, the rest of the Nazgûl fell, naught now but guttering flames as at last all Sauron had wrought fell to ashes and ruin, his own notions of power now fallen to naught, never to rise again.