Breaking through the forest and into a clearing, Prinderp found himself at the edge of a great precipice, hundreds of feet above an angry, black sea.
Cornered as he was by the the Nazgul, Prinderp knew he needed a plan and he needed it quickly.
Could he jump? It was an insane proposition, for he neither swam nor had any desire to wind up a feast for the beasties he was sure swam below.
The unearthly shriek of a horse coming nearby raised the hair on his feet, and suddenly remembered. “The chalk,” he said. He reached into his pouch; his breath now rose in steamy clouds as the temperature around him began to drop quickly.
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Finally, his fingers found the forgotten piece of wraith chalk given him by Gnorl the Elder, and he quickly began to draw the protective grid quickly around himself, using the sacred symbols.
Branches snapped nearby and with horror he saw the first rider emerge from the bushes. A great wailing cry arose as the Nazgul raced towards him; it was his own cry – a mix of fear and anguish, the kind only known by prey as it feels the end is near.
Completing the grid just in time, the Nazgul stopped short, kept at bay by the sacred chalk shield, but circling, circling, looking for a way in. Now Prinderp had time to think about what he’d done, and how innocent a mistake he’d truly made by updating his blog too soon after the Breaking Bad series finale.