Rats!
The Witch-king sat in the highest chamber of the highest tower, having left the steering wheel to Ringwraith #4. He was consulting his Palantir, the Ithil stone, at the moment.
Where are you, my pretties, he muttered to himself, using the stone's powers to search far and wide across Mirkwood for the competition.
Ah, there you are, my pretties, he thought, when he spotted Bag Endless-fuel and Mount Zoom.
Veered away, eh, too scared to follow Minas Mor-go? Mwahahaha! He then turned his eye towards his old kingdom of Angmar in the north, and he gazed longingly at the old fortresses, and the battlements, and the weary orc sentries longing to see their long-gone king. The Witch-king fondly remembered the old battles in Eriador, and his victories over Arnor.
They were a race of fools and idiots, trying to stand up to me! Me! The Witch-king of Angmar! Mwaha-WHAAT?!
A rat had just ran across the Witch-king's foot, squeaking as it scampered into a corner. Rats? An exterminator had just visited the city no more than three weeks before, and already rats were infesting the place. The Witch-king stomped down the spiral staircase, and on his way down spotted two more rats. He soon reached the top of the gates, where Ringwraith #4 was driving. "Ringwraith #4! First of all, get out of my chair! Use that wooden stool I gave you. Secondly, we've been infested with rats!"
"Rats, sir?"
"No, banana splits," said the Witch-king, rolling his eyes, "Of course I said rats, you fool. They're everywhere. Look, there's one now!"
"That's odd. Didn't we have an exterminator come here just three weeks ago to deal with our ant problem? This is strange, indeed. Maybe one of the orcs brought them, or maybe Eärnur's ghost is bothering us again, or maybe an elf has infiltrated our fortress and is sabotaging the race by unleashing vermin throughout our city. Have you heard any tra-la-las lately?"
The Witch-king slapped the back of Ringwraith #4's head. "Enough of these crazy conspiracy theories of yours! Next you'll say Balrogs have wings!"
"But sir, have you seen a Balrog? Their shadows stretch out
like two vast wings. I've read it before in a book."
"Oh, shut up. Let's go investigate this rat problem."
The Witch-king duct taped the wheel straight and he and Ringwraith #4 climbed down the great spiral staircase leading down into the labyrinth of cellars, dungeons, and basements. It was not long before they heard the horrible moaning of King Eärnur's ghost. He drifted out of a dungeon door and right into the stairwell. His ghostly garments were the same kingly vestments he wore on the day he died. Through his ghostly head was a ghostly Morgul blade, neatly and straightly impaled from temple to temple. It was this wound which caused an eternal headache, making King Eärnur moan so.
"Eärnur! Stop right there!" commanded the Witch-king. "Did you happen to let rats infest the city? They're everywhere. Tell me, or you'll relive June 19, 2050 of the Third Age for the rest of eternity!"
"Twasn't I," he said with a dreary sigh. "But I do know who did."
"Who? Tell us!"
"Only if you promise to free me from this prison when we reach the Grey Havens. I've been thinking about retiring to the Barrow-downs. I've heard I can lease a nice barrow for cheap."
"I don't care about your barrows. Tell us who infested this place with rats!"
"Only if you promise to release me when we reach the Grey Havens."
"Oh, shut up. Fine. I promise, but that's the last promise I'm giving you. Now, who did this?"
"I saw an orc do it."
"Who? What? How? When?"
"First of all, I have no idea what its name was. What, you think I learn their names? As for how and when, I saw him take two rats out of his pockets just a few hours ago."
"Just a few hours ago?"
"Hey, rats multiply. As I was saying, he released them from his pockets near the first basement chocolate vault –"
"You have a chocolate vault?!" said Ringwraith #4 to the Witch-king. "Why don't I have a chocolate vault? How many other secret vaults do you have, eh, boss?"
"Shut up, let the King finish his story."
"And the orc did the most bizarre thing. He fed
himself to the rats. Chopped off a few toes and fingers, and fed those rats. Those rats eat orc meat."
"Amazing! Do you know what this means, Ringwwraith #4? It means we only have to look for orcs missing an excessive number of toes and fingers! To the dungeons!"
And so the Witch-king and Ringwraith #4 sped off to the dungeons. When they arrived, they found that the floor was covered in rats. Ringwraith #4 nearly fainted, and grabbed onto the Witch-king's arm to help him stand.
"Oh, get off of me, you sissy. Attention orcs! Please remove all socks, shoes, and gloves! We are taking a tally of how many appendages we've lost. Take off your shoes now, good job."
The smell was unbearable, and Ringwraith #4 finally fainted. The Witch-king kicked him. "Alright, #4, go check their feet."