Please read to the last post for why is thread has been Necroed.
Book 1: The Rise of evil.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 1: The beginning.
Characters: Sauron.
Orc Messenger
Gollum.
Gazrak the Sneaky
Nagrak the Castrator
(Many apologies if this is no good, this is my first fan fiction)
The orcish messenger gasped for breath as he ascended the last of the six thousand steps within the Dark Tower. Why on Arda the higher ups had decided that having an asthmatic for the Dark Lord was a good idea was beyond everyone. Sadly it wasn't just him. The asthma problem was far more widespread among the orcs than most people thought , possibly due to living next to a giant volcano and next to the Black Pits. The only fresh thing to come out of the Black pits were the huge piles of orc excrement.
Around half of the armed forces had some form of asthma, which was crippling the war effort.
As he opened a large set of double doors the smell of fear hit him hard, like always. In front of him lay an absolutely huge telescope, with a huge plate clad knight sitting in front of it, frowning. In the corner lay a computer and in the other corner lay a table, where he ate his meals. The knight in question was presently hitting his telescope with his fist. He had a right to do so, for he was Sauron..the Dark lord of Mordor, servant of Morgoth, Lord of the Rings and proprieter of the local charity shop in Minas Tirith
"Damm it," he said to himself. " On the day of the Gondor Fashion Climax and I can't get a bloody picture on this thing. My favourite models are going to be missed!"
"Um...sir?", the messenger said.
Sauron nearly fell off of his chair in shock.
" Melkor damm it! Why don't you knock when you come in? I could've taken your head off with my mace! Anyway what do you want coming in at this time of night?"
"Sir...it's 12 a clock in the afternoon.
"Well how the hell am I supposed to know? The entire land is perpetually covered in darkness and I don't really have the money to spend on a watch. I've spent half of my money on this stupid telescope that supposedly doubles as an eye."
The messenger cleared his throat.
"Anyway. I bring great news from your grand spy, Gazrak the sneaky. They have captured an intruder who they believe may have held your Ring at some point. Here, I have a picture of the creature."
Sauron squinted at the pathetic looking creature. This was the creature Gollum.
" Hm...excellent work. Tell Gazrak that I am promoting him to, (Drum roll) Gazrak the slightly more sneaky."
"I'm sure he'll be very pleased," the messenger remarked.
' 2 weeks later'
The messenger opened the double doors again, again breathing rather heavily. Sauron was oblivious to him and again was staring into his telescope.
" Why the hell did I have to play a game of I-Spy with Shelob, when she knows that I'll have to look through every inch of Middle-Earth to find it. What the hell begins M and ends in D..."
"Um..Sir?"
Sauron nearly fell out of his chair again.
" By Melkor's sooty undergarments! I've told you before miserable insect that interrupting me will involve you flying down those stairs faster than you can say the word ouch!"
"But sir, I bring news from your chief torturer, Nagrak the Castrator."
"Remind me again why he got that name?"
"Ask the long line of limping Gondorian slaves why. He brings you news that his talk with the creature Gollum has at last borne fruit."
"Excellent! What great insights did he give us. What incredibly detailed report on where we might find the ring did he spit out?"
"Well....he kind of said two words."
"Two?"
"The words 'Shire' and 'Baggins'"
Shire....where had Sauron heard that name before. The memories were cloudy but he remembered himself and the Nazgul going out on the town in Eriador....and he distinctly remembered smoking something that did him no good as he woke up the next day in a ditch on top of Khamul the Easterling.
Good luck explaining that. He remembered a sign as he stumbled through the bright morning sun. It read...The Shire. Sauron smiled like someone who took opium for the first time.
" I think I know where the Shire is to be found. Messenger, go and send forth...THE BALROGS!"
"But my lord...we don't have any Balrogs." Sauron's face fell
"What? ...I wrote that we had some so that we could cover them on our insurance....they cost an extra grand per month! Damm it! Very well then...Send forth...THE NAZGUL!" The tower rumbled and roared with the last few syllables.
The messenger bowed and made a hasty exit.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 2: The ride of the Nazgul
Characters: Nazgul
Hobbit woodcutter
An unfortunate hobbit shirrif.
They said that the eyes of Minas Morgul never slept. This was partially true as the Witch king of Angmar had been recently diagnosed with insomnia, a fact that his subordinates were quick to mock in private. His unfortunate condition had been put down to overwork, stress and general unhappiness. His latest mission therefore, to brutally massacre midgets in search of a ring, would hopefully be a tonic to this. As it was with most diseases in Mordor...except Asthma
He and his riders were gathered, mounting their horses in preparation for their long journey. They had packed essentials: Their two handed blades of death, their poisoned Morgul Blades, their Sun tan lotion. Secrecy required that they be clothed in black because of it's brilliant camoflauge, especially during the day (not). Their chief weapon was fear though, which they struck through merely walking past people. This had however come back to haunt them whenever they went on dates, often resulting in the date and most of the people in the restaurant to go insane and start eating their own hands. Which meant that most of the dating sites had banned them. So their lives were pretty bad.
The Witch King prepared to address the riders as they prepared to leave
" Nazgul! The Lord Sauron commands us to find his great ring! Now let us great kings of old charge out to meet our foes!"
One of the Nazgul raised his hand.
"Yes?" The Witch King frowned.
"I..um have a confession to make." The Nazgul said.
"Yeeees...."
"I'm not actually a king of old."
"Wait...what? You told me you were Lord Arveld the mighty, King of Numenor!"
"Actually I was his manservant who stole the ring from him....my name's Roy. But I have a PhD in servitude, so does that still qualify me?"
The Witch King buried his hood in his gauntlets. Why....why did this always have to happen. It was like the Valar were spitting on his luck and then stamping on it.
"Damm it! We told Sauron we were kings of old! If the Gondorian Paparazzi get hold of thi-"
As if to confirm his fears a bright flash appeared from nowhere and a man with a camera fled the scene, laughing hysterically. The Witch King sighed.
"Well...bollocks. There goes our reputation. Right...lets get on with this."
' Two weeks later'
At last they had reached the Shire. It had taken two weeks of fording rivers, getting lost and having to stop in Isengard to ask for directions. But at least they were there.The Witch King took two Nazgul with him and sent the rest together in pairs. Roy (or Aravel the mighty if you so wish) and Khamul the Easterling were one such pair. They rode together down the old roads in the dead of night, eventually coming across a hobbit chopping wood in front of his house. Khamul was politely going to ask him where they might find Mr Baggins but sadly he too suffered from the great Asthma problem (He put it down to the 'ahem' incident with Sauron.)
"Shiiiiiire.....Bagiiiiiiins." he said, in great pain. The terrified hobbit quickly told him the information and fled into his house.
As the two rode away together Roy asked Khamul.
"I think you may have frightened him a bit."
"Well it's not my fault that my asthma trigger happens to be Pipeweed. It's those damm residual memories!"
The Witch King had been having a far better time, having brutally murdered a hobbit Shirrif as he walked his nightly duties. It was hardly necessary but he justified it by saying that he was doing the Dark Lord's work, one fat hobbit at a time. When they eventually reached Mr Baggins abode they found the place empty and deserted. The door was open and a note was on the door, a crudely drawn picture of Gandalf pulling a silly face.
"Damm it...we've missed him." said the Witch King as he crumpled the note in his hand.
" Wait sir!" One Nazgul cried.
"What?"
"He's left his kettle boiling...could we please have a cuppa'? I'm shattered." This Nazgul was known as Coperdermis the Cockney and had formely been a lord of the poorer districts of Rhun.
The Witch King looked thoughtfully at the piping kettle.
"I don't SUPPOSE it could hurt..."
Another Nazgul had been left on his own. He was called Vorkal, former chieftan of the great kingdom of Harad, Lord of the Sand. And he desperately needed the loo. He put it down to the enormous number of peaches he had eaten before they had left.
"Damm it. Where the hell am I going to find a Hobbit dwelling that doesn't slam the door? Is it something on my face?"
At last he spotted something lovely. A huge tree, perfect for relieving oneself on.
He leapt down from his horse with a smash as his steel boots pummeled the gravel beneath them. He walked over to the tree and proceeded to relieve himself.
"Aaaaah...that's better. Right now that's done I can get on with hunting down those dammed hobbits."
Little did he know that, in a hollow right beneath his feet lay the hobbit Frodo Baggins, who held the Ring. He would later come to regret his mistake....
Tommorow I will update this! Again I apologise if the you find the humour unfunny/offensive.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 3: A comedy of errors
Sauron was being very angry, as per usual. His latest gripe was with the recent Troll dysentry problem. It appeared that Gondor had managed to infect several trolls with the disease and when their keepers came to inspect them...well let's just say that there are better things to have thrown into your face on a Monday morning. There were also protestors outside of Barad'dur demanding equal rights for all orcs and free health care for all. They just didn't seem to get the concept that they were bred to fight and die. Plus 'health care' in the Black Speech transated as, " Being thrown into that massive volcano.
So Sauron had had a pretty bad start to his day. At that moment though, his Skype activated, telling him that someone wanted to speak with him. With a sigh he heaved himself over to the computer and checked Skype. He had a call from WhiteWizard#001. Saruman. Sauron's closest ally and only friend, if you put friend in an extremely loose term
"Gods I hate that self obsessed bastard." he thought to himself as he opened the call.
In front of his face stood Saruman, his beard covering half the screen.
"Saruman, my main man!" Sauron said out loud.
"Saruman, you traitorous bastard" he thought in his head.
"Hello Sauron...I've got a present for you." Saruman said, winking at him.
"Oh please no" Sauron thought to himself. "Not another bottle of 'Only the Brave by Diesel'. How many times does this guy think I get out?"
"Oh...really? What do you have?" Sauron said out loud.
"I have captured Gandalf the Grey!" Saruman said triumphantly.
"Oh! Well that's actually good news!" Sauron said happily. Finally something good to happen.
Suddenly Saruman turned around as an orc behind him began to talk to him. When he turned back his face was panicked.
"Erm....bad news S-man....Gandalf has escaped."
"And there goes that moment," Sauron thought to himself.
"Wait...."Saruman turned around. "They recaptured him. Wait...hang on...they haven't...wait
again...they have...erm..."
Sauron hit the mute button. Melkor's charred P.E kit, Saruman was so indecisive and slow, even an army of walking trees could beat him. If only such a thing could happen.
"Surely my Nazgul are doing better than this imbecile." he thought to himself
The Nazgul indeed were doing fine, having picked up the hobbits trail all the way to the town of Bree.
The Witch King rode up to the gate and waited. Soon an old man opened a small hatch.
"Knock knock." The Witch King said.
"Who's there?" The old gatekeeper said.
"Crush."
"Crush who?"
"No...crush YOU!"
The Witch King kicked down the door on his horse and rode over the door, crushing the gatekeeper beneath it. Roy, Khamul and Copernicus followed him through. Each Nazgul passing cause another scream to emit from beneath the door.
"Ok guys...he's in the inn of the Prancing Pony. Gazrak the Slightly more Sneaky (tSmS) just sent in a message."
"Oh that's brill that is." Copernicus said. "Wonder if they do tea in these posh places."
The Witch King shook his head. "Murder first, tea later." he said, glaring at Copernicus.
Copernicus sagged his shoulders.
They reached the Prancing Pony inn within thirty seconds. They quickly dismounted and knocked on the door.
A bearded man answered the door and blinked as he saw the four hooded figures.
"Who the heck are you weirdos?" he yelled at them.
" Think of a great lie." The Witch King thought to himself. "Nope can't think of one." he thought to
himself again and promptly decapitated the bearded man.
The Nazgul passed into the inn and up the stairs, silent as the night.
"Ok...I've got the room. It's room ten." the Witch King told his Nazgul.
They burst into one of the rooms with a crash. The man and the woman occupying the room leapt out of each other's arms as they burst in.
"Oh...sorry." The Witch King apologised as he and the Nazgul exited the room. He closely examined Gazrak's (tSmS) note and sighed.
"This guy has awful handwriting. It was room sixteen not room ten."
The Nazgul crpet down to room sixteen and opened the door slowly. Four shapes lying in beds confirmed that the Hobbits were in there. The four went to a bed each and raised their swords. They plunged them onto the beds at least ten times before realising that they in fact had been stabbing bedsheets.
Roy gave a terrible cry of horror when he realised they had actually stabbed bedsheets.
"NOOOOOOOOO! I have broken the first law of servitude!"
The Witch King looked as sceptical as a hooded King of Old can look. "There are laws of servitude?"
"Yes...rule one...'Thou shalt not mess up bedsheets. I have failed!"
"Look...um Roy....i understand it's hard but your serving days are ov- What the-?" The Witch King looked straight at Khamul, who was standing with his back to the window.
Khamul looked offended. "Is it something on my face>" he said.
"No...there's a guy looking at us."
The four Nazgul slowly turned to face the window. A man with the makings of a beard looked back at them.
Copernicus spoke first. "'Cor blimey...'e's a massive perv in'e. E's starin' at us in tha' creepy way. We should go and bash 'im up."
"No way!" The Witch King retorted. "He looks like a badass. Look at those deep eyes reflecting of that extremely sharp looking blade."
"I think he looks cute." Khamul said.
The other Nazgul stared at him.
"What? Is it something on my face?"
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 4: Weathertop blues
Sauron gazed back at his computer screen. It had been two hours since Saruman had called and he was STILL talking. He could talk the arse of of an olog-hai, that's for certain. Luckily he had muted the screen and was now amusing himself by doing voiceovers for it.
"Oh yes, Sauron, I just wanted to tell you what a big jack-ass I am." he mimicked.
"Did I also mention that I pleasure myself in front of a mirror?" He laughed evily at the joke. Voiceovers were fun. If he hadn't become a Dark Lord of Evil he probably would've tried to get a spot on that Impressions Show series. But still...he hoped that after the world was subjugated and Minas Tirith razed to the ground he would have some time to contact ITV about his ideas. They were prone to evil ideas, they HAD commisioned 'The Only Way is Essex.'
Anyway, back to the Nazgul and their quest. They had rested themselves after the nights excersions. Unfortunately someone forgot to set their alarm clock and thus the Witch King woke at four in the afternoon in a panic realising that their quarry would have escaped. Unfortunately, after the panicked preparation, they soon learned that the badass from the night before was guarding the hobbits. This would require some help. The Witch King called in Abaranzah, a fifth Nazgul, to help them.
They set off at five, searching for their scent. They did not have to search long. Due to the hobbits being rather greedy and eating six meals per day, all they really had to do was to follow the trail of picnic blankets and they'd be fine.
"So, Abaranzah, how are you finding this hunt?" The Witch King asked as they rode extremely fast, dodging the red and white checkered blankets as they ran.
"I serve my master. I have no opinion." He answered.
"Erm....ok. Do you have any hobbies?"
"I serve my master. I have no opinion."
"You must be great at parties."
"Actually I do a rather good Frank Sinatra impression." Abaranzah replied, with no emotion whatsoever.
It was Nightfall when the trail of blankets stopped. They looked up at the huge structure in front of them. They looked on in awe when coughing besides them informed them that Gazrak (tSmS) was behind them.
"I bring a message from the Dark Lord." He quickly handed the Witch King the message before spinning around and vanishing in a puff of smoke.
The Witch King opened the note and paled as he read the contents.
'Dear Witch King,
Bring me my ring NOW, you creep, before I have to come over there and whoop your undead backside so hard you'll wish you'd never been such a greedy bastard and taken a ring from me.
Love, Sauron.'
The Witch King crumpled the note and dropped it on the ground as Roy pointed upwards.
"Look! A fire!"
The Witch King sniffed the air.
"Bacon....sausages....yep DEFINITELY the hobbits. Ok lads, dismount and let's finish this.
As they approached the fire went out and they heard the sampering of hairy feet on stone.
They ascended the staircase and ended up at the very top within two minutes. As they entered the top part, they were confronted by the sight of four very scared hobbits. The hobbits had drawn steel on them and held them in an aggressive pose.
Inside his head, the Witch King was dying of laughter. The hobbits knew nothing about fighting and it seemed like the badass ranger dude had left them. This would be incredibly easy. Three of the hobbits rushed the Nazgul, who promptly threw them face first into a wall. The crunch of faces against stone was music to the Witch King's ears. The final one stumbled to the floor and pulled out a golden ring.
All of the Nazgul saw the ring and immediately closed in on him. Then the hobbit put on the ring. They then realised one terrible thing. He could see them in the shadow world....and in the shadow world they were completely naked.
The Witch King took action, drawing his Morgul Blade and plunging it directly into the shoulder of the hobbit, who promptly pulled the ring off his finger. At that moment though, a roar from behind them caused them all to turn as the badass ranger leaped through with a sword in one hand and a fiery torch in the other. Roy squealed in pain as the ranger set him on fire.
"NO NO NO! My robes, I'm breaking the second law of servitude! Khamul help meeeeee!"
He ran directly at Khamul who tried to push him away but sadly set his own robes on fire.
"No, go away you idiot NO, AHHHHHHHHH!"
As they pranced away Copernicus leapt at the ranger with a yell of,
"Come on son, I'll 'ave yer like I 'ad yer mum." Unfortunately the rnager ducked and Copernicus went flying over the edge with a cry of, "BOLLLLLLLLLLLLOOOOOCKSSSSS!"
Abaranzah was next, being fought back with fearsome sword strokes before being forced over the edge of the cliff. As the ranger turned around the Witch King stepped out of the shadows behind him. He had 'bravely' decided to hang back.
As he marched towards the ranger he turned a threw the fiery torch directly into the Witch King's face. It stuck fast and as the fire spread, it caught his deoderant bottle, which promptly exploded, sending the Witch King over the edge and caused him to land directly on to Copernicus, who was laying prone at the bottom of Weathertop, Unfortunately the other end of the torch impaled Copernicus directly through the face. As they both passed out the last though the With King could muster through the flames was,
"Well, ."
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 5: Washed away
It took all morning to get the torch out of Copernicus' and the Witch King's face. The screams were like an unholy crescendo, interspaced with Copernicus' cries for some tea. Roy was still rather miserable over breaking the Second Law of Servitude (Thou shalt not sully robes.). Abaranzah stared blankly into the distance and Khamul depserately needed the loo. And it was raining. It was very much like an average camping holiday in England.
After the torch had been removed the five set off in search of their quarry. Fear of Sauron's threats drove them on but also an extreme desire to get revenge upon the badass ranger. However, even the Witch King figured he'd need help so he called in the other four Nazgul. The Nine were gathered and none would withstand them, not even that Ranger. The other Four Nazgul did have names but they shall not be told in this tale (Possibly because the author sucks at naming stuff.)
They rode together for some time, tracking the Ranger. Unfortunately having a torch impaled in his face had given the Witch King a nasty migraine and all the aspirin had run out after a drunken night in Edoras. Consequently he fell off of his horse several times, inculding one time when he smashed face first into a tree. There was clearly no hope of catching the hobbits at this rate.
Thankfully Gazrak tSmS appeared from the shadows and whispered, " The hobbit is succumbing to the posion. The ranger has gone off into the woods to find herbs. Now is the time to strike." He vanished as quickly as he had come.
"I want to learn how to do that." muttered Khamul.
The Nazgul quickly mounted their horses and raced off towards their destination. As they crossed a narrow path though, a white horse shot across the path, forcing the Witch King to a halt.
"OI! cut me up, OW my head!"
Suddenly he saw the pale hobbit on the back of the horse, being covered by an extremely pretty looking Elf.
"That's him! Get him lads!" The Nazgul charged towards the white horse, it's rider quickly charged it faster, challenging the Nazgul to a race.
"Oh that's how you wanna play it huh?" the Witch King yelled. " please, we are the rally champions of horse racing!" This was actually true, the Nazgul having won the rally championships for the last three thousand years, although they had been the ONLY contestants for the past 2,999 years.
In front of the white horse a man wearing a traffic warden's uniform held up his notepad as the racers charged towards him. His face was brimming with obsessive self-importance.
"Now. I'm going to have to give you a ticket that will get you an extortionate fine unless you-"
The white horse ran him down and then the Nazgul quickly trampled him where he lay. With his last breath he wrote out a ticket for £1500 to Sauron and put it on a nearby tree. Then his body went limp and so passed Arro Gant the traffic warden.
The race continued, with the Nazgul weaving in and out of trees. At last Khamul came within touching distance of the hobbit. He reached out a hand.
"That's right...come to papa halfling."
Then the Elven lady spurred the horse and it sprinted away as Khamul looked on aghast.
Even with the incredible speed of the horse, the Nazgul were champions at this, working as a unit. However it became apparent that the forest was coming to an end and the white horse sprinted over a small ford in a river. The Nazgul skidded to a halt.
"Come on lads, lets get 'em!" the Witch King cried. Roy shivered.
"No way! That water looks cold. I could catch pneumonia or hypothermia or even a cold."
"You're undead you blithering idiot! You can't catch a cold!"
"You can never be to careful, like mum used to say."
The Witch King shook his head and turned back to the Elvish lady, who was now sitting astride her horse on the opposite bank. She drew her sword and yelled,
"If you want him, come and claim him!"
The Witch KIng spuned his horse and it walked into the water. The rest of them followed him gingerly. As they approached the Elven lady began chanting and a great roar was heard from upstream.
Khamul was spooked.
"Erm, what was that. It sounded mysteriously like a giant flood being released from a glacier."
"Yeah like that would ever happen," the Witch King scoffed.
As they came within five metres the roar became great and a huge flood blasted into the area. The horses took fright and ran downstream as the flood approcahed, the white foam in the shape of horses.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHH!" The Witch King cried as he was taken by the flood.
"MUMMY!" cried Roy as he too was overtaken. One by one the Nazgul were taken, until the flood had finally passed the area, leaving a strangely serene scene behind.
'2 days later'
"So let me get this straight," said Sauron as he glared at the Nazgul. "You mistook bedsheets for people, failed to take out ONE guy and were washed away in a flood caused by a WOMAN?"
"Pretty much yes." The Witch King replied. He had a head bandage and his arm in a sling. The other Nazgul were similarly battered and bruised. Sauron leaned behind him and asked the nearby orc,
"How much do we pay these guys again?" The orc replied,
"Three thousand pound a month, before taxes of course."
The Witch King piped up.
"I think it's a good deal."
"No it's not! I pay three thousand a month for Kings of Old not the bloody Keystone Cops!" Sauron roared smashing his fist down on the table.
"Get out of my sight!"
The Nazgul left the room in a hurry.
As the last one passed through the door a messanger arrived, huffing and puffing.
" Message for the Dark Lord!" He handed an envelope to Sauron before leaving.
Sauron opened the envelope and threw it onto the ground as he read it.
"£1500 SPEEDING FINE! I thought I'd exterminated the traffic warden vermin in the last war!" He smashed his fist down on the table again.
The orc behind him suddenly piped up.
"Actually sir, I thought it would be a good time to tell you that Oxfam has bought out your share in the Minas Tirith charity sho-"
The orc went flying out of the window with a terrible cry.
End of Book 1.
Book2: The rise of the fellowship.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 1: Worrying intelligence.
It had been a few days since Sauron had banished the Nazgul and thrown his economist out of the window. Since then his life had kept getting worse. He kept getting Facebook friend invites from two weirdos called VDmort and DarfVador. He was certain they were spamming him but he couldn't do anything about it. Tossers. Not only that but the latest attack on Osgiliath had failed miserably. The asthma problem had reared it's head when the Gondorian's simply set the city on fire, sucking away oxygen and causing 75% of the Mordor army to collapse instantly. The next day Sauron had recieved a gift in the post from Denethor, Steward of Gondor. It was an asthma pump. He threw that out of the window too.
As he was trying to forget his troubles, his Skype started to ring. Saruman again. Great, just great. Who else would phone up? Maybe an insurance salesman asking him if he'd had an accident in the last five years?
He clicked a button and Saruman's face appeared.
"Yes," Sauron said wearily.
"I have news from my spies in Rivendell."
"What? Elrond's got another mouth ulcer?" Sauron said sarcastically.
"Yes. Also he has convened a secret council and chosen nine walkers to bring the ring to Mordor and destroy it. They have been created to oppose your Nazgul."
"WHAT? He's sent them in opposition of my Nazgul? To destroy my ring? What great heroes have they brought along with them to complete such a task!"
Saruman stratched his head.
"Erm....actually it's a pretty lame fellowship. They have four hobbits with them."
"..."
"An Elf."
"...."
"A dwarf"
"..."
"And two men."
"...Seriously?"
Sauron started laughing. It was a laugh full of malice and evil.
"It is a pretty lame fellowship!"
Saruman held up his hand.
"I should warn...one of the men is known as Sean Bean."
Sauron stopped laughing. He clenched his fist. Sean Bean was a name feared throughout Mordor. Merely a mention of his name caused asthma attacks amongst hardened orc veterans. Sauron had sent numerous assassains against him but all had failed. Some said he was a god. Others said he was from the future. Some said he came from a mysterious place known as Sheffield.
"If Sean Bean is coming with them, then we are going to need something special."
Saruman smiled.
"I have just the thing...my lord."
Atop the great stone peak of Orthanc, Saruman chanted his spell, directing snow and ice at the nine walkers atop the great mountain side.
"Oh great Snow spirits of the North,
Cast your paiload of mighty snow upon the walkers
And drive them from the mountainside." He chanted as he watched the storm clouds over the great peaks.
Then the reply came form Gandalf.
"Snow, Snow go away, come again another day!"
Saruman smiled as he blasted the mountainside again.
Sauron was just clicking 'no' on yet another friend invite from DarfVador.
" Wow, these guys are obsessed." he thought to himself as he made a mental note to hack their accounts as soon as possible.
His Skype went off. He cliked a button and Saruman appeared again.
"How did your task go."
"They have been driven down the mountain. They intend to find passage through the mines of Moria.
Sauron smiled. He had an old friend there.
"Thanks for the update Saruman."
He cut Saruman off before calling up FireandShadow#65. A face of shadow appeared before him.
"Ah! S-man!" It said in a posh British accent.
"Hello Roggy! How go the mines."
"Welll you know, a little dark, a little bit crumbly, but hey, I am planning to replace the grey with a nice shade of 'slightly pinky magnolia.'"
"I thought I'd just warn you that a group of nine people are going to pass through your mines soon. One of the short ones carries a...precious object. I would appreciate it if you...removed them."
The Balrog smiled.
"Of course old bean." It cut the call.
Sauron loved Roggy. Never asked questions, was almost as dashingly handsome as himself, had a great sense of humour. He had it all.
"At last," he yelled out loud. "Something is going to go right!"
His phone started ringing. He picked it up and monotone voice said," Have you had an accident in the last five years that wasn't your fault?" Sauron pciked up the phone and screamed into it,
"YEAH! With your MUM!" before slamming the phone down before storming out of his room. He would never tempt fate again.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Ok I've just watched LotR: Return of the King so now I am insipred and ready to ROCK!
Chapter 2: The eye of the Balrog.
The Balrog smiled as he cut his Skype call. He was already formulating plans, cunning calculations that would fry an ordinary orc's brain. He quickly did the math: Nine guys vs five thousand and myself=WIN!
Still, he would at least allow part of the way through. He was nothing if not a consumate host.
"After all," he thought to himself," At least the elf isn't descended from that Glorfindel bastard."
Soon an orc messenger ran in.
"My lord. They have reached the front gate."
"HAH" The Balrog laughed to himself. "There is no possible way for them to figure out my complex code that will open the door!"
Another messenger ran in
"My lord. They guessed the password."
The Balrog sighed. He was starting to understand what it must be like to be Sauron.
They had reached the tomb area. This was all part of the Balrog's best laid plan. Trap them, and crush them like an insect. Perfect. Just to be sure, he was sending in a Cave Troll just to see if any of them made a witty comment. He would personally crush the one who did. Then Sean Bean made a witty troll comment. He made a mental note to kick his ass later. He watched through his CCTV system as his goblins broke the door and rushed in. He watched as Sean Bean tore his orcs to pieces with his sword and the badass Ranger decapitated several. One of the hobbits got pinned to the wall by a troll spear thrust. Things were going well.
Then terror struck him. He'd forgotten to remove his tea set from that spot earlier and now the battle was raging around his precariously balanced Earl Gray. The tea set was at least six thousand years old and had been forged in the great fires of Angband. So it was quite precious to him.
"NO! NOT THE TEA!" he screamed, as one sword stroke missed by inches.
Then the old man with the stupid hat smacked the tea set, DELIBERATELY, and sent it smashing to the ground. The Balrog swore extremely loudly in the Black Speech, saying words that if I were to repeat, I would be banned from the internet forever. He got up and started to walk down there. He was going to get that grey dude and whoop his ass thoroughly. And if he got the Ring...well that was even better.
He began to run down side corrridors to attempt to cut them off. He smashed Goblins aside like rag dolls and sent hundreds flying to their doom. Below a street cleaner threw his broom to the floor as the bodies rained down.
"That's it!" He cried. "I've had it with this mothering Balrog in this mothering mine!" (Sorry, I had to.)
At last he saw the party as they reached the bridge of Khazad-Dum. He sprinted and emerged as the grey guy stood on the bridge and pointed his staff at him.
"I am keeper of the secret fire, Wielder of the flame of Anor." The grey dude yelled.
"Well good for you jackhole." the Balrog yelled back.
"The Dark Fire shall not avail you Flame of Udun!"
"And that staff won't avail you when I stick it up your ass!"
"You cannot pass. Go back to the shadows!"
"Sorry, can't go back, I've had quite enough of your mom tonight,old chap."
The grey dude yelled out and raised his sword and staff aloft.
"YOU! SHALL NOT! PASS!"
"Is that a challenge? Alright then, I'll step forward and take that pointy hat of yours...."
He took a step forward and-.
Sauron was happy. He'd got a new swivel chair and was spinning around happily when his phone rang,
"Hello? Yes this is Sauron. What? Look, calm down and start from the beginning."
He listened patiently.
"O.k, that's good. So the hobbit got impaled by the troll.....WHAT? MITHRIL? How does a fat, crumpet eating lardass get hold of one of those?"
He breathed heavily as he listened further.
"O.k...Wait....What do you mean they started tossing the dwarf?" His face took on a worried look.
"Oh you mean THROWING him...oh O.K....no no I didn't mean anything else."
He listened further.
"So Roggy cornered them at the bridge...excellent, there's no way he could fai-"
The orc interrupted him with a response that shook Sauron to the core.
"The old guy broke the bridge? And Roggy fell in? WHAT THE HELL! I don't care if he took the old guy with him, it's not like it's a fair trade-off, a fire wielding demon for an old cripple! WHAT THE F....keep me informed."
He slowly put down the phone and buried his face in his hands. Then a Facebook invite from DarfVador popped up again.
"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU-"
The Balrog's story isn't over yet. Tune in tommorow for is epic fight with Gandalf!
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 3: Smote upon the mountainside.
The Balrog was in quite an uncomfortable position. Falling two thousand feet, while being attacked by an old guy with a mean sword is never comfortable at the best of times. He defended himself as best he could but the old guy was small and kept hitting him in the face. Them they emergd into a giant cavern and a huge pool of water. The Balrog's last thought before hitting the water was,
". I've forgotten my armbands."
As the Balrog clambered from the water he started to weep.
"NOOOOOO! My Ralph Loren coat! My CHINOS! My god damm Converses! DAMM YOU! WAAAAAAAH!"
He dragged his slimy bulk into a tunnel but the old guy was in hot pursuit, his sword in hand. Well, hot pursuit, if you sped the chase up slightly.
The Balrog's steps became faster with each second. He was determined to kill that old guy, no matter what. But first, he'd need to rest and prepare.
"Break my designer clothing,WILL HE! Break my tea set WILL HE!" He mumbled as he ascended the great stairs.
Suddenly he found himself wondering the question that everyone one else was probably asking a paragraph ago.
"What the hell is a giant staircase doing underground."
The answer to this was simple. Urine broke mithril down, and as dwarven miners would normally relieve themselves over the piles of mithril, the Dwarven economy started to suffer. As a result, King Durin the very inbred guy who looks mysteriously like his father IV had comissioned the building of a staircase, up which miners could go to relieve themselves atop the mountain.
They had planned to build a disabled access but sadly the scheme failed when the only disabled dwarves in Moria were dwarves that were so fat that they couldn't move. This sort of broke the lift operation system (Three dwarves at the top with a rope), and the project was abandoned. Not that Roggy gave a crap about who did a pee on what.
At last he reached the great peak. As the old guy was quite the way behind, he ordered a takeaway chilli con carne, with extra spice. Also, he managed to beat Gwaihir in a chess game, finish his memoirs and create a total conversion mod for Medieval 2. Due to all of the intense spices, his body reignited as the old guy pulled himself up the last few stairs. The Balrog felt invigorated.
"You cannot beat me old man. Witness the power of Chilli!" He raised his hand at the old man and promptly farted, causing Gwaihir to catch on fire and tumble down the mountainside. But the old man was not daunted and he held his sword aloft.
Forced to fight, the Balrog drew forth his sword of fire and the two fought. Sparks flew and wounds were made everywhere. It was like an average night-club in certain Scottish cities. Balrog set the dude's beard on fire, the old dude slashed the Balrog's knees. The Balrog clotheslined the old dude,who promptly stabbed the Balrog in the ballsack. As the Balrog fell to his knees, the old guy impaled his staff into the Balrog's face. With a terrible cry he fell backwards, taking the staff with him. He smashed face first into a rock and fell right next to the street cleaner, who promptly threw down his broom and said,
"I seriosuly need to get that transfer to Isengard."
The Balrog woke up in a place full of light. He slowly got up,and realised he was no longer on fire. As he turned around he saw a figure, robed in black. He slowly began to walk towards him, curiously. The hooded figure turned towards him and opened it's arms as if to embrace him. He was Mandos, Lord of the Fallen and keeper of the records. The Balrog embraced Mandos and smiled at him. Mandos smiled back and promptly kneed him in his already punctured groin, headbutted him and then dislocated his shoulder.
"YES!" Mandos yelled as the Balrog sank to the floor. He started to punch the air.
"You have NO IDEA how long I've wanted to do that !" he cheered. He started to dance a jig and ran away, whooping as he went. The Balrog's vision started to fade as the tune 'Life on Mars' started to play.
The Balrog woke up in a car. To be exact, it was an Audi Quatro and he was sitting next to a very angry looking man who was driving.
"What the hell is this." He yelled.
The angry man shook his head and said, " A word in your shell-like, pal."
The adventures of the Balrog are not mentioned further in this tale and can be found in his posthumously published memoirs (Available in all good book shops for the reasonable price of £6.99)
And thus ended the tale of the Balrog, the first and last of his kind to be seen in the Third Age of Middle Earth.
Chapter end.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 4: Of issues most problematic.
Sauron was busy dialing a number into his phone. Since old Roggy had died, he figured it would be a good idea to back his assets by insuring Barad'dur. You could never be to careful. That's what his mum used to say, several seconds before tripping face first down several sets of stairs. He held the phone up to his helmet as the phone 'brr brr'ed' a lot. Finally an over cheery voice answered.
"Hello, this is the Insurance Company, how can I help you?"
Sauron cleared his throat.
" Yes, I'd quite like to insure my house."
"Ok sure! I'm going to have to ask you some questions though. Name?"
"Sauron."
" Pardon?" The voice seemed rather confused.
"Sauron. S-A-U-R-O-N- AAAAAAAAH(DIE)
"O.....K. Occupation?"
"Dark Lord of Mordor."
"Ahem....name of house?"
"Barad'dur."
Suddenly the voice bcame very angry.
"O.K look buddy I don't have time to deal with this kind of O.K?"
"What?" Sauron sounded insulted.
"You heard me. I've got a wife and three kids to feed and I get enough crap in a day, without having to deal with pricks like you."
"How dare you-"
"Do you know how hard this job is?" The voice bcame emotionally charged. "Working fifteen hours a day asking people questions?"
"Wanna swap?" Sauron answered dryly.
"You know what? Go yourself."
The phone cut off.
Saruman was having a much better time. He was already drawing up plans to have Helm's Deep wall converted into a massive sign saying 'Saruman is the best.' His Uruk-Hai were almost ready to move out against Rohan, but he was determined to deal with the Fellowship and win great prestige with Sauron. He was ready to send out his best Uruk-hai to deal with them, including a bounty hunter called Lurtz, who had been tracking Sean Bean for two decades. Once he'd even disguised himself as a French Marine in order to kill Bean, but sadly he got hit in the face by a howitzer.
He stroked his beard evilly as he sat in his revolving chair. He wanted to get a white cat because it would go with his robes, but if not he would simply cut part of his beard off and stroke that. He was that self obsessed. He even had a perfume named after himself, it smelled of treachury and lies, and could turn the most reliable man into a self obssesed arse.
Now that Gandalf was out of the way he was almost a dead cert to get 'Wizard of the Year' award. To be fair, his only competition was an old guy dressed in brown who lived in the woods. Apparently he had gone there to 'find himself'. Saruman had a huge tower that he lovingly called, 'my cock'. Or Orthanc officially. The prize for winning 'Wizard of the Year.' was a small trophy of the winner shoving a staff up Albus Dumbledore's arse. So there would be no way that the Brown Guy would win.
Plus the two blue wizards were wandering around lost in the lands of the East, using the stars to guide them. Eventually though, they did find civilisation, they accidently walked into a barn halfway through a woman giving birth. In order to think of an excuse, they quickly lied and said that they were two wise men bringing gifts to the boy who would rule Rhun. An hour later and the baby girl was born, leading the wizards to quickly ret-con their prediction, before leaving the stable and fleeing.
However the news that the party had reached Lorien woriied him. He'd never gotten on with Galadriel, possibly caused by drunken sexual advances when he was younger. He didn't like her because she always took so long to get ready to do anything, apparently because she was looking into her mirror Also her husband was creepy. He was always suspicious of Saruman, and was a massive racist towards the dwarves. Saruman loved the Dwarves, they were so....muscular. Their huge noses seemed so...fine. Their beards were rough, the way he liked it. Yep, he was a massive pervert.
'Meanwhile'
"Look, for the last time, I AM Sauron!" Suaron yelled into the phone.
"Stop with me!" yelled the fiftieth insurance salesman that Sauron had called. He slammed the phone.
Sauron sighed. Well if the Dark Tower went down, he certainly wouldn't be getting an insurance pay out. He decided to call Saruman via Skype, for moral support. As the video feed activated he saw something that shook the Dark Tower to it's foundations.
"SARUMAN!" he screeched. " What the hell are you doing with that dwarf!?"
End of Book 2.
Yep you heard it here first folks, Saruman is all up for Dwarves!
Book 3: The breaking of the Fellowship.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 1: The trackers.
Lurtz snarled as he worked his way to the banks of the River Anduin. With two decades worth of experience, he had taught survivalist the meaning of the word 'Survival.' Bear Grylls. Dog the Bounty Hunter, they all owed themselves to him. The two had never gotten on that well and were prone to disagreeing. However one thing they did agree on was that Lurtz was a humungous arsehead.
He'd driven the Uruk'hai for several days through the plains of Rohan, teaching them how to survive in grassland, including a lesson in fishing, how to prepare man-flesh and drinking ones own urine. Lurtz was blessed in that aspect as he urinated wine. The other Uruk-hai didn't though and thus pulled faces that could only be described in morse code, backwards. And it smelled awful. Like one of those public toilets at a rock concert.
As he reached the banks of the Anduin he sniffed the air.
"I smell him...He passed here not an hour ago."
"How do you know that sir?" One Uruk asked.
"The winds tell me much." Lurtz said calmly.
"Really? You speak wind?"
Lurtz sighed. "No, I can smell his Sheffield stench from a hundred miles away. Wind can't speak you blithering idiot."
"Oh O.K."
As they entered the forest near the banks they suddenly found themselves in a swamp, with a hut nearby.
"I'll ask the resident if boats have passed here." Lurtz told his crew. "Wait here."
He politely knocked on the hut door. It opened and a little green man stood there, blinking. He was wearing robes.
"Help you, can I?" he said. "Pizza Delivery are you?"
Lurtz frowned slightly.
"No, I'm hoping that you would tell me if any boats came past here."
"Boats? Seen boats, I have."
"Excellent. Now who was on the boat?"
"Eight people, there were. The force was strong within them."
Lurtz was getting worried. This guy was clearly mental.
"Erm..yeah. Anyway, how long ago did they come through."
"No time, there is. Time to start your Jedi training, it is."
Lurtz rolled his eyes. 'Surely no one could possibly be having a worse time than me." he thought
'Meanwhile'
The Witch King sat smiling on his throne at Minas Morgul. His plans to build an indoor jacuzzi had just been accepted by planning permission and the builders were hired. Not only that, but the fireworks display to begin the war was all set up and ready to rock. He also had managed to book Status Quo to play at his birthday party. His day was perfect. Then a messenger came running in.
"My lord."
"Yes, yes, whatever, Tell me whatever pointless report you have." The Witch King waved him away.
"Erm....there's someone who wishes to see you. Says he wants to help out in the war effort."
"Excellent! What is his name."
"He calls himself Binks." the messenger siad.
"Show him in."
A skinny, fish like creature came rushing in and started dancing around the Witch King. The messenger moved in quietly behind.
"YEAHHH! Meesa wanna Pizza!"
The Witch King glared at the messenger and mouthed," Who the is this guy?"
"Erm...hello Mr Binks, how can I help."
"Meesa wanna help out with tha waaaaaaar!" it yelled happily as it knocked over the Witch King's photo albums.
"Erm...yeeeeeah. Actually if you want to help out with the war this ISN'T the place."
He took Binks by the shoulder and pulled him over to the window.
"You see that giant white citadel?"
"Uh-uh."
"Well, go there and talk to Denethor. He'll give you your duties."
"OK! MEESA GONNA HELP!"
Binks fled the room and the messenger closed the door behind him.
The Witch King started laughing.
"This should set Gondor back by around half a century." he said, while laughing insanely.
After today I'm going to be on holiday with a bad internet connection so updates will be sporadic. Farewell for now and good night! (Or morning)
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 2:Yet more misery.
Sauron was having a truly awful phone call.
"Look, Faramir, my main man, I did not order Jar Jar Binks to go to Minas Tirith." Sauron yelled into the phone.
"Yes I AM aware we signed an agreement not allowing people from other dimensions to help in the war." He sighed to himself as he spoke.
"Yes I am also aware of your father's mental state and heart problems. I am aware that Mr Binks has the innate ability to cause strokes and heart attacks! Again I didn't order this. Ok..ok Goodbye."
He slammed the phone down.
"Damm," he said to himself out loud. "I wasn't expecting that sort of Spanish Inquisitio-"
Almost as soon he had finished a musical discord arose and three red clad men burst into the room screaming, "NObody expects the Spanish Inquisition!"
Sauron buried his head in his hands. A present from Faramir...how wonderful.
After the men were removed with one of them screaming about their various weapons, Sauron reflected on his week. His celebrations of the Queen of England's Diamond Jubilee had ended disastorously. While attempting to take down the bunting across the Dark Tower, part of it had fallen across the bridge and forty thousand orcs had plunged to their deaths after tripping. he also had a small problem when a bunch of drunken orcs accidently syumbled into Shelob's lair and were promptly devoured horrifically.
He had sent the queen a greetings card, as well as a get well card for her husband. He had very much enjoyed the concert beforehand and had set up his own in tribute. That too had ended in disaster when some very excited trolls stomped up and down too much and caused Mount Doom to bury the concert under twenty feet of ash and lava. Not that the music was any good. For some reason "RAAAAH MAN FLESH" couldn't compare to Elton John. Even a smashing rendition of the Mordorian classic ' Gondolin gone gone' couldn't lighten the mood, and even a heartbreaking solo of 'She'll be coming down the mountain (because it's erupting!)' couldn't save the show. Well, especially after the ash had buried the place.
He'd also held a river paegent as well, but as there were no rivers in Mordor he decided to float them on a lava flow. This proved to be a mistake as the paegent quickly turned into the barbecue of the afternoon. All in all Mordor had lost over fifty thousand troops over a weekend. Without fighting a single battle. Great. This weekend reminded Sauron of the great Troll incident of T.A 2951 that shall not be described. If you want to find out what happened then you should buy Sauron's memoirs, for only £6.99 in all good bookshops.
Khamul burst into the room at that point, soaking wet and very annoyed. Sauron had recently sent him on a mission to try and waylay the Fellowship as they sailed down the Anduin."
"Can I help?" asked Sauron.
"Yes. You can give me a bloody raise! You told me that it would be easy to ambush those cretins while they were sailing down the river!"
"How did it go?"
"I had my bloody mount shot from under me! You didn't tell me that elves could shoot for half a mile!"
"Well I'm sure you had a soft landing."
"I fell over a waterfall! I landed on rocks twice! I got attacked by our own piranha defences!"
"Okay, okay...you can have a slight raise."
"Too right I will." roared Khamul and he stormed out of the room.
"Still, could be worse." thought Sauron. Then the inevitable messenger came in shouting,
"My lord. My lord! Our forces at East Osgiliath just got routed by Fara-"
Another orc messeger went flying out of the window.
Apologies if it's rather short but I've just got back and decided to do a Diamond Jubilee themed chapter. The story of Lurtz will be continued very soon, with many more Monty python references along the way!
Ciao.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 3: The fall of Bean.
After extracting himself from Yoda's hut with many excuses, Lurtz was back on the hunt. The scent was strong...very strong. His bow quivered in his hand as he imagined finally catching Bean. It would not end like it had in Sheffield, where Lurtz had ended up with a bullet in his crotch and a migraine. This time the he would kill Bean and drive him into the dirt like a dog, then teabag him. Like a ing boss.
As they made their way through the forest, they were suddenly stopped by a man dressed in brown.
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" he roared at them.
"Who the hell are you?" roared Lurtz
"I am Radagast the Brown! I, like, totally like the animals dude." he started to choke and quickly pulled out a pipe and started smoking that sweet weed.
"You're a hippy?"
"I'm just like, doing it for the animals dude."
"Well I'm afraid that we'll have to pass through here."
"No...not while I, like, have my awesome powers doodz." Radagast pointed his staff at Lurtz and roared. A small sparrow flew out of the staff and smashed into Lurtz's chest, cracking the poor thing's skull. Radagast drew back and fired again. A small twig hit lurtz in the chest again and snapped. Lurtz walked forward, grabebd the staff, impaled Radagast through the chest with it, and pushed it into a nearby tree. Radagast was now nailed to a tree.
"Woah dude, totally unfair." Radagast grunted, before smiling and then he said.
"Some things in life are bad, they can really make you mad."
Lurtz realsied what he was about to do and roared,
"Do you seriously want the author to be sued for copyright?"
"Other things just make you swear and curse." Radagast continued.
"When your chewing on life's gristle, don't grumble, give a whistle. And this'll help things turn out for the best. Aaaaaand...."
The Uruk-Hai started to sing along.
"Always look on the Br-"
"SHUT UP, SHUT UP, SHUT UP!" roared Lurtz and dragged away his crew as Radagast continued the song, right up until some poachers shot him in the face several days later. This is why Monty Python songs are bad for your health kids.
'A few hours later.'
At last the scent was strong. He held his hand up and his hundred Uruk-hai stopped.
"Spread out," he said. "You have my permission to eat the hobbits."
They moved pretty quickly away into the woods. Lurtz quietly contemplated their chances. He had a hundred Uruk-Hai, highly trained and versatile, versus four fat midgets, an elf that never seemed to run out of arrows, a crotch smashing dwarf, a badass Ranger and Sean Bean. Their chances were slim but he knew that if he split them up then victory would be there's.
One of the Uruk-hai was leading a fourty strong band towards some old ruins. He went by the name of Grabnag
"Halt!" he yelled.
"Ooooooh picnics!" one at the back yelled.
"Silence! I smell man flesh!" screamed Grabnag.
A badass ranger emerged in front of them, wielding a huge two handed sword.
"ATTACK!" screamed Grabnag, before watching as one Uruk-Hai got decapitated. Still, it was only the matter of time before the ranger fell-
Fifty arrows buried themselves into Grabnag's back. They were fired by the Elf.
"HACKER!" Grabnag cried as he sank to the floor.
A dwarf also burst from the foliage and proceeded to headbutt and axe Uruk crotches. The place was a slaughter. After five minutes, the place was filled with heads, pierced bodies and twenty Uruk-Hai rolling around clutching their nethers. And then the horn of Bean sounded.
Two of the hobbits stood gaping as Sean Bean sliced Uruk-Hai to pieces in a way that only badasses can pull off. Lurtz emerged from the clearing and smiled as he drew his bowstring. Bean was completely unaware of him and-
He released his arrow, watching as it sailed into Bean's lung. He laughed as he fell but then became serious again when he stood up again and started killing more people. He quickly fired two more arrows and pierced the intestines and the heart. Bena fell to his knees and couldn't move as the Uruk-Hai snatched the two hobbits, beliveing that they held the one ring.
Bean knelt as Lurtz approached and drew his bowstring back once more. He gazed Bean in the eye and said,
"Rotheram for the win ." He prepared to fire, eyes gleaming in anticipation. At that moment the badass Ranger crashed through the woods and barreled into Lurtz. Lurtz drew his sword with a snarl and yelled, " None shall pass! Now you die!"
He engaged in a fierce sword battle that ended with the ranger slicing Lurtz arm off.
"HAH! 'Tis but a scratch!"
The ranger cut off his other arm.
"I've had worse."
The ranger impaled him on his sword.
"All right, I'll have you for that."
The ranger cut off his head.
"Ok...we'll call it a-"
Lurtz fell silent as his head hit the ground.
Saruman was busy admiring himself in the mirror when Sauron called.
"Hello, S-man. What do you want by calling my awesome self."
Sauron's voice was cold.
"Have you been summoning in illegal immigrants from other dimensions?"
Saruman turned around, looking at his transdimensional device, where his Uruk-Hai were trying to pull Darth Vadar out of the void.
"No! What kind of is that?"
"You had better not be lying to me. I've already been sent three oddballs by Faramir."
"As if I would lie to you S-man baby." Saruman pleaded.
"I'll keep in contact." Sauron cut off.
Saruman turned round on his swivel chair and continued to admire his reflection. The narcissistic bastard.
Book 4: The Two Failures.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 1: The tale of Ugulk.
Three days. Three days on the move, carrying hobbits that smelt suspiciously of weed, pursued by a badass ranger, the hacker Elf and the crotch smashing dwarf. He was commanding the remains of the Uruk-Hai force, as Lurtz had died and half the forces had fallen. Luckily they had backup. Orcs from Moria and some Mordorian scum. Well officially they were back up, but as Lord Saruman said,
"We're trying to do an equal oppourtunities thing, by allowing the weak and feeble orcs a chance to fight." In other words they were baggage. And they had no idea where they were going.
One of the northen orcs yelled,
"HEY! Ugulk, where are we taking these delicious morsels?"
"We're taking the hobbits to Isengard!" Ugulk roared as they carried on running.
At once the call was taken up by the northeners.
"We're taking the hobbits to Isengard! We're taking the hobbits to Isengard!"
"SHUT UP!" Ugulk roared. The northeners fell silent.
"Ugulk you have to be gentle with them." said Grisnankh, an orc from Mordor and a qualified man eater.
"Bah. What do you know you man eater? These guys are pussies and wimps. They should be breeding to produce better offspring!"
They are a key part of our forces you meat headed knob . Besides why are you taking the hobbits to Isengard? I was under the impression that I would be escorting the prisoners, to the Great Eye."
Ugulk snorted with laughter.
"Sauron! I heard the idiot couldn't even insure his own Dark Tower. Saruman has taken out a multi fortress policy on Helms Deep AND Edoras and your mum." Grisnakh ignored the gibe and continued.
"And if he fails to take Helm's Deep?"
"Yeah as if. It would take an army of walking trees to stop Saruman!"
"You know what? I'm scouting ahead of you losers."
Grisnakh and his crew ran ahead as the rest of them stopped to rest.
One of the northeners piped up as he finished his small bowl of maggoty bread.
"Please Mr Ugulk sir? Can I have some more?"
Ugulk decapitated him.
"Anyone else want more?" he asked.
No one wanted more.
Suddenly another hand shot up.
"Mr Ugulk." the northener asked, "Where do babies come from?" Ugulk decapitated him too.
"Does anyone else have any stupid questions?" he asked. Several hand shot up.
"Mr Ugulk..."
"Yes?"
"Are you paying too much for your car insurance?"
Ugulk decapitated that orc too.
As they started to move again a small horn was blown and they watched as a horseman gallop away.
"You fools!" Ugulk cried. "He'll bring word to the rest of the horse bastards now! Why didn't you shoot him?"
The northerners stratched their heads.
"With what?"
"With your bows?" Ugulk said.
"We forgot to bring arrows." one confessed.
"Forgot to bring arrow?" Ugulk asked incredulously. The call was taken up by the northeners,
"FORGOT TO BRING ARROWS! FORGOT TO BRING ARROWS!"
Ugulk buried his head in his hands. he seemed to be having a sense of Deja Vu, as if someone else somewhere was doing exactly what he was, right at that moment.
In the rays of the morning sun, the northeners began to flag.
"HAH! Run maggots or the horse bastards will eat you!" Ugulk roared at the northeners.
"NOOOO! WE DO EATING!" they cried as the Uruk-Hai passed them.
Ugulk was nervous. Soon they would catch up to Grisnakh and his damned band. He had no doubt that Grisnakh would try to take his hobbits to Mordor. And he couldn't be having that. Saruman had promised him riches, his own farm, Kim Kardshian, the lot.
Soon louds crunches were heard behind them as the northeners were run down by horses, with cries of,
"MUMMY!"
They reached the Fangorn camp as Grisnakh and his group were finishing dinner. Grisnakh waved an empty bowl at the sweating Ugulk.
"Caviar?" He said smiling his toothy grin.
Ugulk simply sat down and ordered the hobbits be placed down on the ground. The hungry Uruk-Hai attemepted to put them down on the fire, but Ugulk growled at them.
He gazed around at his forces as he started to realise little arguements were starting to take place around the camp. It was a few seconds before he guessed that Grisnakh had ordered his men to start arguements and fights to create a distraction while he-
He never got the chance to stop Grisnakh because at that moment a horseman ran down Grishnakh as he tried to grab the hobbits. Suddenly the woods were alive with mounted men and arrows flew into the crowd. Blood flew everywhere as Ugulk raised his sword and screamed,
"MEATS BACK ON THE MENU BOYS. KILL THE HORSE BASTARDS!"
He sliced at one horse, and the rider fell from the horse with a cry. He looked around a saw to his horror that his uruk's were being completely crushed.
One by one his Uruk-Hai fell. At last only he remained and one of the horseman dismounted and drew his sword.
"You die today Uruk-Hai." the man growled.
"At least I don't pleasure horses as a hobby!" Ugulk roared and attacked. After a very fierce sword fight
Ugulk's defenses were pierced and he ended up being impaled on the sword. As he fell the man brought his sword down again and again and again.
"OW! OW OW OW! OVERKILL!" Ugulk screamed as the man started to jump up and down on his face, spat on the lifeless corpse and teabagged him. An inglorius end to the valiant Ugulk.
And thus ended Ugulk as a man in a white robe watched from the woods.
Chapter end.
Feel free to comment!
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 2: Space Filler.
Saruman was practising his victory speech in front of the mirror, placing himself side on to the mirror in order to make himself look mysterious.
Suddenly one of his servants entered the room and Saruman quickly sat down and stroked his beard.
"Yes?" he said to the messenger.
"Your interdimensional army is ready sir." the messenger bowed.
"Excellent." said Saruman with a grin. "Who do we have exactly?"
"We have..." the messenger pulled out a clipboard. "Darth Vadar, Mr Rogers.."
Saruman interupted him.
"Hold on. As in the kid's show presenter?"
"Yeah."
"....Carry on." said Saruman.
"Rupert Murdoch."
"Too evil."
"Mother Theresa"
"Are you for real?"
" The cast of TOWIE"
"Ugh."
"Ganondorf...
"Wow!" cried Saruman.
"...'s brother." continued the messenger.
"Oh." said Saruman disappointed.
"And that is it." finished the messenger.
"So in other words we have one good combatant?"
"Well you have to sum up their strengths and weaknesses."
"Since when does Mother Theresa have a strength in battle?"
"Fine....we'll cross her off." the messenger drew a line on the clipboard.
"Get better ones, like the SS, or possibly Gadaffi's all women bodyguard unit."
"Wouldn't you prefer the Russian all-dwarf division?" murmoured the messenger under his breath.
"What was that?"
"Nothing....nothing."
Sauron was brooding. He was slowly going over his strategies and counter strategies but always came to the realisation that two hundred thousand orcs plus reinforcements would probably be enough, using the legendary orc tactic of 'Kill Men RAAAGH'. He would've sent his greatest servants and heroes to lead the dark forces but sadly the Sex Pistols were unavailable, something about drugs and CountryLife butter, so he'd have to send in the Witch King instead.
Then a messenger burst into the room, again without knocking.
"My lord." the messenger said, bowing deeply at the designated height of one foot off the ground. Disciplined, this kid could go far.
"Yes?" Sauron asked.
"There's a guy at the door who wants to talk with you."
"Well send him up...I'm all for guests."
A hooded figure entered the room.
"What do you want?" Sauron asked the stranger.
"To bring you a weapon that will win a war." yelled the figure. He cast off his hood and there stood Elrond Half-Elven, holding a mean looking sword.
"Behold! Aundril, flame of the West, forged from the shards of Narsil. It has the power to call an army that none will withstand!"
Sauron continued to stare at Elrond. Elrond suddenly squinted at Sauron.
"Oh...bugger. You aren't Aragorn are you?" Sauron shook his head.
"This isn't Rohan is it?" Sauron shook his head again.
"Can you give me directions?" Elrond asked, almost pleading.
"Two hundred miles west." Sauron pointed out of the window.
Elrond's shoulders sagged as he walked dejctedly out of the room.
Sauron sighed. "What a strange fellow...he's nothing like his dad, who convieniently is mentioned in my memoirs, only £6.99 in all good bookshops, before VAT and taxes. All the proceeds will go directly to me." He decided that it would be a great gift to get Denethor, as he always seemed to send the steward the same gift, mental images of Gondor being razed and pillaged. Denethor kept sending Sauron fake rings, to try and trick Sauron into looking like a bit of a wally.
Far to the south, the men of Harad marched north.
'DUN. DUN DUUUUUUUUN!'
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 3: The war is brewing.
The Haradrim had reached their goal, the black gate of Mordor. It stood like a criminals garden fence, barbed wire and foul creatures guarded it and it generally made one feel uncomfortable. Not that the Haradrim were uncomfortable because Dagorland was like their home, a desolate wasteland, only a different colour.
"So tell me Jamal." said one to another. "How goes your memoirs?"
"Very well Krisnakh," said Jamal, "I've taken inspiration from Sauron's memoirs (Only £6.99 in all good bookshops.) and I think it's coming along nicely."
"Excellent! My memoirs were coming along nicely until i accidently put the book in the pouch where I keep my Gondor ears. Ruined it."
Suddenly some dust from a nearby hill flew into the air.
"Quick Jamal! We must investigate!"
"Ok then!"
They marched towards the dust explosion with their spears ready. They came across a crinkled grey rock, large enough to hold two hobbits. (Wink, Wink, Nudge, Nudge)
"I must say Jamal that this rock appears to be rather...clothy."
"No, it's just your imagination."
"No, really, why is it going up and down? It's like something is underneath it..."
Krisnakh grabbed Jamal and whispered into his ear.
"Stick to the script you fool! Mr Jackson is looking for an excuse to fire us."
"But this is highly unrealistic and stupid!"
Krisnakh punched Jamal in the face
"Just get on with it!"
"Fine," said Jamal sulkily.
The two of them wandered around for a bit like idiots and then rejoined their group as they entered the black gate.
Sauron was brooding again when another messenger approached.
"My lord! The Haradrim have arrived, from the south."
"Ah excellent. I wasn't expecting my takeaway to arrive that fast!"
"My lord, that is highly offensive..."
"I'm just messing with them. Tell them I bid them welcome and that they may drink from our pools!"
"We don't have any pools my lord."
"What? Why the hell did we settle in this place then?"
"Don't ask me, You chose the place."
"I must've been tricked by that damned estate agent! He told me clearly that this place was filled with pools and greeness and a central heating system." He sighed as he finsihed his rant.
"Ok then, tell them they are welcome to drink our orc draught and eat our maggoty bread."
"I'm sure they'll be pleased sir." said the messenger who appeared unconvinced.
Saruman was brooding too, brooding because the council had refused planning permission for a giant statue of himself to be built in place of Edoras. Something about 'Historical meaning'. Suddenly a pathetic looking man rushed into the room.
"Ah Grima!" Saruman smiled at his servant as he took a sip of wine.
"My liege! Gandalf has just broken your spell on Theoden!"
Saruman spat the wine all over Wormtongue's face.
"WHAAT! He was supposed to be dead!"
"Apparently not." Said Girma, still bowing down.
"He's been helping himself to hacks from that damned elf." yelled Saruman as he kicked Wormtongue in the groin. Saruman hated the elves.
"This is such bollocks!" he roared, stampng on Wormtongue after every syllable. Whimpering came from Wormtongue after he had finished.
"I have to contact Sauron about this." said Saruman as he went over to his computer.
"HE WHAT?!" Sauron roared at the Skype call. Saruman flinched.
"Yes my lord I know it sounds bad, but I will get him, mark my words."
"You can't do jack! You just sit their planning what you'll do AFTER you win, not planning the actual battles. What exactly have you done to stop Gandalf? You called a snowstorm on him. Oh whoopy! What next, you're gonna build a voodoo doll and stab it?"
"What have YOU done Sauron, to stop Gandalf and capture the ring?"
"I sent the bloody Nazgul out! I ordered Roggy to kill them....ok he failed but it's the thought that counts!"
"Oh yeah! I'll race you to Minas Tirith."
"Oh, really? What are you gonna do? Send Denethor a strongly worded letter? Maybe a picture of your own face?"
"I got ten thousand uruk-hai ! I'll take out Rohan and Gondor and have enough left to carve my name into the White Tower!"
"Wait..what? Ten thousand in a month? How is that even possible?"
"I'm a wizard...I can do anything."
Chapter end.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 4: The IR and the March of Isengard.
A second group of haradrim were making their way through Ithilien, carrying vital weapons, supplies and pornography, along with several mumakil. This was to be the force that aided Mordor in the sack of Minas Tirith and share in the spoils of war. But it was never destined to be.
For as they entered a forested pass they found themselves beset by arrows. All were killed and the mumakil were slain, and their meat was taken as spoils for the ambushers, as was the pornography. The ambushers in question were part of an almost legendary group known as the 'IR'. Led by Faramir, brother of Sean Bean, this terrorist cell killed any followers of Sauron they could find. The 'IR' stood for Ithilien Rangers. They would've preferred to call themselves the 'IRA' Ithilien Rangers Army, but when they tried to patent the acronym, at the Ministry of Revolutionary Acronyms, it was discovered that the name was already taken.
Every attempt to oust them had failed miserably. The last such attempt had been led by Copernicus, the Cockney Nazgul. Every orc had died and Copernicus had been soundly thrashed by a peasant with a pitchfork. At this point, he was telling Sauron of his troubles, with two arrows in his arse.
"Look, boss man, we can't get close to 'em" he protested.
Sauron bashed his fist on the table.
"Just shoot them! How hard can it be?"
"Well, begging yer pardon sir, but they shoot us before we shoot them!"
"You think I give a damn? You're immortal damn it, you can't be killed by Men!"
"That's the Witch King and I don't think I could do much killin' with a hundred arrows in me arse!"
"Why don't you just use the good old "RAAAGH KILL MEN" tactic?"
"Because the arrows go straight through the armour you give us! It's made of bloody paper! If our army is caught in the rain it'll screw up the invasion plans!"
Sauron glared at Copernicus.
"Get out before I shove my mace up your arse!" he roared. Copernicus left silently.
Sauron buried his head in his hands. Without their pornography, the morale of the Haradrim would disentergrate. It would not do to have a full blown rout after six seconds. The IR would have to be dealt with in due course. Suddenly an idea began to form in Sauron's head. If they attacked Osgiliath and kept on attacking, it would force the IR to defend the city, away from their ambush techniques.
"Excellent!" thought Sauron as he rubbed his hands together with glee.
In Isengard, Saruman surveyed his glorious army of awesomeness. His PR department had assured him that they would find a better name shortly, but it would do for now. He particulary liked the White hand, put on each Uruk-hai's forehead, each one placed on by a plaster cast of Saruman's hand. He also liked the twenty foot pikes, which provided a badass effect when marching and would help immensely against Rohan's legendary cavalry.
Behind him Grima Wormtongue rushed in.
"My lord! Theoden has retreated to Helm's Deep!"
Sarruman started laughing. The fools had given up their cavalry advantage. He smiled as he punched Grima in the stomach three times, paused for a moment and then hit him again and turned back to the balcony as Grima slid to the floor with a groan. Oh Grima....such a brilliant stress ball. He truly was a pathetic underling worthy of a punch or a dozen.
Saruman yelled to his forces
"WHO IS YOUR LEADER?"
"SARUMAN!" cried the host.
"WHO WILL YOU FOLLOW UNTO DEATH?"
"SARUMAN!"
"WHO'S DICK WOULD YOU MASSAGE?"
"LEGOLAS-sorry- SARUMAN!"
"Yep!" Saruman thought. "We are ready."
As the host left Isengard, Saruman said,
"There will be no dawn...for men. Unless of course Elves decide to help out at the Hornburg, which would be completely out of character and extremely unlikely...what are the chances?"
As the last Uruk-hai emptied out of Isengard, Saruman decided to amuse himself by watching a game of 'tag' between Grima and his Wargs. Suffice to say, he had a fun evening. Grima did not.
As Saruman lay down to sleep a hooded figure emerged into the room.
"WHO THE HELL-" Saruman cried.
"I bring you a weapon to win this war!" The figure cried and pulled his hood off. It was Elrond again.
"Behold! Aundril, Flame of the West, forged from the shards of Narsil! It has the power to-" He squinted at Saruman.
"Aragorn?"
Saruman slowly shook his head.
"Bugger. Sorry to bother you, wrong address." Elrond walked out dejectedly, muttering about idiotic Beornings.
Saruman stared after him and said,
"I suppose now would be a good time to advertise my memoirs, "The White Side of Life" only £6.99 in all good bookshops?"
Chapter end.
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 5: Helm's Deep and the assault upon Osgiliath.
Sauron was laughing maniacally as his messengers brought him news that the assault on Osgiliath had worked as intended. The IR had pulled back meaning supplies and pornography could finally make it to Mordor. With morale rising, Sauron had deemed it nearly time to begin the great assault upon the lands of Gondor. He had called for the support of the Corsairs of Umbar, so named because the inhabitants were so drink dependent that anyone asking for directions would be met with a blank stare and the words,
"Um......bar?" They were not good conversationalists, it had to be said. Still, they were good seamen and led by a legednary pirate captain called Yack Scarrow. Sauron had met the man and he had borne an uncanny resemblance to Johnny Depp.
" At last!" he roared in happiness at his messenger. "I've waited for this day for so long!"
" What? The day porography reached Mordor?" the messenger queried.
" NO! The day we launch our assault upon the White City!"
" Pornography is still pretty important to maintain a healthy balance in the body."
" Shut it. Use your imagination and don't use external sources you imbecile. Anyway, the assault on Minas Tirith can begin almost immediately, when the Nine are gathered. Summon Khamul the Easterling!"
At that very moment Khamul the Easterling had just settled into his armchair in Dol Guldur, after three days worth of heavy riding.
"Finally. Now I can rest and relax and-"
A messenger rushed in.
"My lord! Lord Sauron has ordered that you help the assault on Minas Tirith, in several days time!"
Khamul glared as the messeger left.
"Go to Dol Guldur they say, now they want me back? Can't they make up their bloody minds?" he said as he got off of his armchair and stormed twards the stables.
Saruman was playing a game of scrabble with Grima. The premise was simple. If Grima won Saruman would hit him. If Grima lost Saruman hit him twice. It was a fair arrangement. Grima had accepted it gratefully when Saruman offered him a chanc eto play with the Wargs again. Suddenly the TV in the corner came on and Saruman slapped Grima's face to tell him to stop playing. The two took themselves away from the table and sat near the TV.
On the TV an elf, who looked suspiciously like Gary Lineker, was presenting the live coverage of the battle for Helm's Deep. His colleagues, two dwarves who looked suspiciously like Alan Shearer and Alan Hansen, were talking about the lineups.
" So Alan H, what do you think the chances are for Rohan in this one?"
" Well Gary ah think that it's a close one to call honestly. Ten thousand trained Uruk-hai versus a bunch of crippled old men and prepubescent boys seems like a tough match-up but they've done well in the recent friendlies at the fords of Isen."
Alan S then spoke up,
"I'll be honest with ya though, Rohan are up against it. They took a lot of losses and their star warrior, Gandalf is out."
Suddenly Gary L turned and yelled.
"Hang on! It looks like Rohan are bringing in a late replacement. Looks like around five hundred Elves, all trained and match fit. This is a surprise that Isengard was not suspecting."
Saruman swore violently and threw Grima off of his chair and then beat him with it, as Gary L continued to speak.
"Anyway, it's time to see how things are in the uruk-hai camp today with Jake Humphreys."
A man ran behind Gary L and whispered into his ear. Gary stiffened before continuing
" On a completely unrelated note I have just heard that Jake Humphreys has been killed in the Uruk-Hai camp, the autopsy revealed a thousand stab wounds and is being treated as not suspicious."
"Anyway it looks as though the match is about to start, here are your commentators, John Motson and Garth Crooks."
Very BBC like voices came on as a camera surveyed the battle field.
"Very little team news to report, and it looks like the teams will be competing for kickoff. The Rohirrim have drawn their bows and you can see the desire in their faces to win this."
"I agree John, but the Uruk-hai want this too almost as badly, this is going to be-"
"Hold on....a Rohirrim has fired! The match has begun as a single Uruk-Hai falls to the ground like a nonce. That was a fair tackle I feel!"
On screen the uUuk-Hai rushed towards the wall, perhaps not realsing that thier ladders were behind them and thus they would simply back themselves into a corner. Elves fired and many Uruks fell as the commentators recovered from the roar, by stuffing hankerchiefs into their ears.
"I must say the Uruk-Hai are playing very aggresively, determined to get into Rohan's penalty area."
"Again, Rohan are going to play defensively, try to hit them on the break."
"Speaking of breaks, the first ladder has come up...and fallen back down again."
"Very unsportsman like behaviour by Rohan. It's the correct conduct to allow the enemy up before killing them."
"It looks like the Uruk's are on the wall. The Elves are fending them off as best they can and their experience should see them through here."
"Well isn't this strange that these thousand year old elves with hundreds of years of martial training are falling so easily to the Uruk-Hai, who have had one months worth of training."
"Stop questioning the logic of the situation Garth and watch the damn game!"
To be continued.....
Spoiler Alert, click show to read:
Chapter 6: The fall of Isengard,
"Ok John, it looks like the battering ram is in place, with Isengard using some good tactics here."
"Indeed so...and I've just heard news that Theoden, Captain of Rohan has been injured slightly, how much will this affect morale Garth?"
"Well if I'm honest with you, I think they'll fight to the dea-"
"Hold on a moment...yes! Star strikers Aragorn and Gimli have sprung a counter attack, driving the Uruk Hai from the bridge. He's tossing the dwarf!"
Saruman's eyes lit up hungrily as he mentioned dwarves but he quickly restrained himself. He wondered how Sauron was doing, whether he was watching the fight.
Sauron was sitting in front of a TV that wasn't working, yelling instructions at Roy, who was clambering around the pinnacle of Barad'Dur carrying an ariel.
"Left a bit! No MY left you imbecile!" Sauron roared. Roy's feeble reply was,
" This wasn't in the job description!"
" Shut it and keep climbing! We have to get a signal soon!"
" We can't get a signal! Those bloody Mountains of Shadow are in the way!"
"Bloody Freeview!" Sauron roared to the wind. " I'm missing the battle damn it! I knew I should've switched to Sky while the rates were still good!"
Back at Helm's Deep, the commentators had finished lunch and were back commentating.
"Look Garth, we have an overlap on the left! It appears to be some kind of shock tactics form Isengard! There are bombs against the grate and now here comes the striker, he's running....defenders trying to get him from all sides...he dives... HE SCORES!" John Motson screamed as part of the wall exploded and rocks flew high into the air. Garth started to speak.
"I must say it was a brilliant move from Isengard and now they are going in for the kill!"
"Hang on, that large chunk of rock is flying awfully clo-" There were some screams and a crunching sound and the camera cut out replaced with a, ' Picture unavailable at the moment.'
Saruman screamed with rage and smashed the TV over Grima's head, before picking up a radio and screaming,
"REPORT! Excellent...we are pouring in through the breach you say...heh heh heh....Hah Hah Hah...MUHAHAHAHAHAH!" He laughed as Grima tapped him on the shoulder with a panic stricken look on his face.
"Yeah excuse me a minute." Saruman put down the radio and said to Grima,
"What?"
"I don't mean to worry you my lord, but there are trees outside."
" Oh, I'm so scared of the trees. They can't walk or rip my operation to shreds!"
" Erm....actually...."
Saruman stood rooted to the balcony as he watched as Ents tore his operation to shreds.
"GAH!" He roared. "Unleash my inter dimensional warriors!"
Grima shuffled on the spot.
"Actually my lord, they told you to get stuffed."
"WHAT! I saved them from destruction! Bollocks!" Suddenly a loud roar caused Saruman to turn round as a gigantic flood washed into his foul pits and washed away all of his Uruk-Hai.
"Do you want me to get the inflatable dinghy out?" Grima muttered.
Saruman turned, with murder on his face, and advanced on Grima, who retreaed back inside as Saruman closed the door behind him. A terrified cry of,
"NO! NOT THE-" was quickly cut off with a shriek of agony.
Sauron had finally got his ariel in the right place.
"Ok FINALLY! I'll be able to catch the highlights at least! Good job Roy!"
Roy was balancing on one foot on the very pinnacle of the tower.
"Wonderful! I suppose I'll be getting a rise?"
"Of course!" Sauron roared at him. He closed the window and muttered,
"Not."
As he watched the news came on and pictures appeared on the screen, pictures of Uruk-Hai being totally routed and destroyed by Rohirrim reinforcements. Sauron nearly choked on his popcorn and gave a roar of anger as the highlights played out.
"DAMN IT!" He roared as a messenger entered the room. " Hey you! Tell me, is my day going to get worse."
"Well you know the song 'Things can only get better?" The messenger said.
"Yeah....."
"Well I'm afraid you won't be singing that. I suggest you turn on your computer and Skype call Saruman."
As Saruman's angry face appeared on screen Sauron yelled at him.
"Saruman you dolt! Your 'Invincible' army just got crushed!"
Saruman's face fell.
"WHAT! We LOST?"
" Apparently so. I suggets you begin building a new army quickly."
"Yeah, about that....you see, I may or may not have just been invaded by a bunch of trees."
"Trees?"
"Trees."
"That's not a code word or anything is it? You mean, bark covered, leafy bastards?"
"Yeah."
Sauron buried his head in his hands as Saruman looked at him pleadingly and said.
"You wouldn't mind awfully sending a Nazgul to pick me up would you?"
"The Nazgul are not a taxi ride you moron! Why don't you negotiate with that voice of yours?"
"I don't do trees!"
"You don't seem to have a problem doing it to dwarves!"
"That was uncalled for!"
" Don't care. You are finished Saruman...Ciao."
Sauron walked over to the TV and kicked it, with a roar. Unfortunately, this pulled the ariel wire ever so slightly, which caused Roy to topple from his perch and fall with a cry of terror. The messenger attempted to shuffle out, but Sauron grabbed him.
"Send a message to the troops. We move on Osgiliath, tommorow."
As the flood consumed Isengard, a lone cleaner threw down his broom and stalked out of the circle, muttering about getting a transfer to Mordor.
End of Book 4: The Two Failures
Book 5: Read on a few posts