The Lord of the Nazgûl waits beside the great river Anduin
Upon the eastern shore, under a new moon, the river runs black before them as the Nine Servants of Shadow stand upon a hill over looking the river.
The Ringwraiths are about to descend to the banks of the river and crossover into the West.
For six days now, the Black Riders have ridden north under the Shadow of the Ephel Dúath coming to the Dead Marshes, the Dagorlad and finally the Emyn Muil.
They have traveled under the darkness of night along the evil roads between the marshes and the hard battle plain, coming finally to the eastern edges of the Emyn Muil. The Nine Riders continued north until they reached the southern edge of the vast waste of The Brown Lands. Here they waited for the appointed hour, until a force of Orcs came down from Dol Guldur to meet them. They were led by a Black Númenórean, a great sorcerer long in the service of the Dark Lord. Secret messages were were delivered and then the legion of Uruks turned back northward to Mirkwood. The Nazgûl turned west, making for the River Anduin.
Now they stood waiting upon a hill for the thin sliver of moon to set behind the Misty Mountains, then upon their black steeds they would cross the river into the western lands of Middle-earth. They now stood waiting on the eastern side of the great river and directly east of the Gap of Rohan. After crossing the river, he black horsemen planned to ride hard across the Wold, coming under the shadow of Fangorn until they reached the feet of the Misty Mountains. Soon after, they would cross the Fords of Isen making for the Gap of Rohan, but first they had an errand that would take them to Isengard.
Saruman had captured a petty little fly in his web. The Grey Istari was held captive in the top most tier of Orthanc and his staff had been taken. Under orders of Barad-dûr he was to be questioned by the Lord of the Nazgûl… slowly and with great pain. Everything must be taken from his mind until it is left twisted and broken, all that he knows of the Ring must be drawn from him. Then the Nine would ride north into the far western lands, to take back to Mordor the One Ring of Power!
The sharp curved tip of the new moon slid down behind the jagged peaks of the Misty Mountains. Black night descended on the hillside. Nine black shapes mounted their deadly steeds and road down to the rivers edge. They forded the river in deadly silence, a darker shade of black against the night. As they reached the further shore they cried out with fell voices, screaming in the darkness under the unforgiving stars.
The One Ring has been found and it will soon be seized and taken back to Mordor to the Hand of their Master!