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Thread: Sauron's Miseries One year anniversary!

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    Default Sauron's Miseries One year anniversary!

    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
    Last edited by Lortano; November 06, 2015 at 08:55 PM.

  2. #2
    Ngugi's Avatar TATW & Albion Local Mod
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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Good start Lartano Favourit lines:
    "Around half of the armed forces had some form of asthma, which was crippling the war effort."
    "Gazrak the slightly more sneaky."

    Interesting in case you keep it going, then I look foreward to see how you handle the action (as in things that happends, this was well handled dialog).
    And suggests you do not have space between all lines , but only when a section ends, so in these cases it's perfectly fine IMHO:
    ...which was crippling the war effort.

    As he opened a large set of double doors (...)
    and proprieter of the local charity shop in Minas Tirith

    "Damm it," he said to himself.
    Just a suggestion
    cheers

    Kingdom of Lindon preview video out





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  3. #3
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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Quite good.

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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Quote Originally Posted by Ngugi View Post
    Good start Lartano Favourit lines:
    "Around half of the armed forces had some form of asthma, which was crippling the war effort."
    "Gazrak the slightly more sneaky."

    Interesting in case you keep it going, then I look foreward to see how you handle the action (as in things that happends, this was well handled dialog).
    And suggests you do not have space between all lines , but only when a section ends, so in these cases it's perfectly fine IMHO:
    Just a suggestion
    cheers
    Cheers mate and sadly it's one of my writing habits that will not go away...I'll try to remove it if I can. Next up is the report of the events of the Hobbits escape to Rivendell.

  5. #5
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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Book 5: The Return of the King

    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 1: Setting a scene and the return of the Legend.

    "REPORT!" Sauron yelled at yet another messenger,
    "Well my lord," said the messenger, "We have a report on the Nazgul's conditions!"
    "Excellent!" roared Sauron.
    "Well, thankfully Roy survived his fall and his recovering nicely with merely a broken leg. Copernicus is on sick leave, apparently a medical condition called 'a sore arse' and Khamul the Easterling is being wedged from his saddle after a long ride."
    Sauron looked deep in thought.
    "How long before Minas Morgul is ready to ride?" he asked.
    "Shouldn't be too long sir, however apparently the Witch King is currently having a manicure and can't lead the armies at the moment."
    Sauron was about to make a joke at the Witch King's expense when his skype rang.

    He turned and clicked open the conversation as a curly haired creature appeared on his screen. Sauron frowned because the call had come in from Saruman's Skype address.
    "How did you get this number?" Sauron demanded. "For the last time, I do not recieve any mis-sold PPI damn it!"
    The hairy creature began to scream and cry out.
    "What? Is it something on my face?" Sauron said and then he realised something. Fat, curly haired, ugly....could it be....the Ring bearer?
    "Oi! You....what is your name?" The hobbit did not answer.
    "Do you have my ring?"
    No answer.
    "Ok...how about I show you my photo album as a gesture of good will?" Sauron said politely.

    'Half an hour later.'

    "....and that's me alongside my heroes, the Sex Pistols, at their last ever gig." Sauron said proudly. The call suddenly disconnected and the hobbit was pulled, screaming in utter agony that only could be caused by being forced to see Sauron's photo album, from the salvaged computer.
    Sauron sniffed.
    "How rude...he's lucky i didn't show him me with the Spanish Inquisitio-"
    There came the sounds of running outside and a dischord filled the air, but then there were three smashes on the door and several screams. Sauron smiled. Steel reinforced door, worth every bloody penny.

    Later on Sauron was in his chair when a proud, tall orc walked in...he had long flowing dreadlocks and spoke with a jamaican accent. Sauron's jaw nearly dropped. It was Lugburg, hero of the First Age, a master orc strategist and feared amongst the races of Middle-Earth. His books were cited as the greatest strategy books ever, including several classics such as 'Riding the Gondolin' the tale of the fall of Gondolin and his epic strategic attack.
    "L-Lugburg?" Sauron stammered. "I thought you retired."
    "Ah did mon...but ya know...I jus' can't get away from ma love a war."
    Sauron smiled...a true orc, through and through.
    "Why have you returned?"
    "Ta bring ya news mon. Theoden 'as marshalled the full power o' Rohan an' is ready to ride ta Gondor's aid. Ya best be attacking now before it be too late."
    "You honestly think so?"
    "I masterminded Morgoth's plans mon. Against the full power of da elves. I tink ah can deal wid a couple o' men and a cloth wearin' pansy."
    "If you say so...."

    In Umbar, the Corsairs were doing some last minute preparation, in short they were drinking. Heavily. The bars of Umbar were famous for their motto's, including 'drink,drink,drink' and ' A rum every two minutes keeps the Scurvy away.' Speaking of Scurvy, it was a big problem for the Corsairs. They had about two teeth per ship and they were on the slaves that powered them. The bonus of having no teeth was that they got tons of money from the tooth fairy (Which may conjoure up horrifying images of Sauron wearing a tutu.) But they were united and their hatred of Gondor and their tee total bastard ways. They vowed to 'Hack, slash, Burn and drink' their way across Gondor in their black sailed ships.

    They had recently been attempting to change the colour scheme of the ships by setting up a competition. Unfortunately the only entry consisted of pink sails with a fluffy bunny on it. Corsair high command had ordered an investigation into who sent the entry in, and what the hell they were drinking at the time, so that high command could sample it as well.

    And high command were tough bastards. There were eight high commanders, and they had four legs between them. It was rumoured that they had once sailed deliberately into a hurricane just for a free beer. Utter nonsense of course, it was actually two free beers. However they did once show their bare arses to the White City for a bet, although a well timed catapult had taken out several legs. It was also rumoured that they had gone on a long and dangerous quest to sail up to the Gray Havens and kick Cirdan in the testicles. Apparently Cirdan had kept two legs as souvenirs.

    These drunken madmen were, however, the biggest threat Gondor had ever seen. However Denethor had grown Wise, placing glowing barrels of beer on cliff faces, above vicious ship destroying rocks.
    It was a bad weekend jaunt for the Corsairs.

    Now their lord, Scarrow, was ready. Soon he would ride up the Aundin and bring fire and ruin with his fleet of drunk, violent, rapists...and drown the world in alchohol! If you want to know HIS story, you should buy his memoirs ( Only £6.99 in all good bookshops and the special edition comes with a free rum.)


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 2: Mordor marches to war.

    Sauron was losing on Wii Sports. The AI had beaten him at tennis repeatedly and now Sauron was getting ticked off.
    "Damn you!" he cried. "How is it possible to lose on this? Those old people on the adverts seemed to be able to win!"
    At that moment a messenger burst in, carrying a scroll.
    "My lord! I bring news. All Nazgul are now ready to ride. The march begins tonigh-"
    Sauron cut him off as he conceded yet another point in tennis.
    "NO, you blithering idiot, I had the advantage there!"
    "Shall I tell the Witch King to-"
    "Just go away" yelled Sauron, as he swung too early and missed the ball completely.
    "Game, Set, Match," the commentator said happily as Sauron threw the remote across the room.

    The Witch King was inspecting his wardrobe, accompanied by his two wardrobe designers.
    "What helmet would sire like today?" one asked.
    "Hm....."the Witch King said. "I'm torn between the Spiky Helm of Fear and the Fiery Crown of Despair"
    "Methinks that the Spiky one would go well with your complexion."
    "Very well then..put it on." They placed the helm upon his head.

    "Gauntlets?" the other asked.
    "I think that the Steel Gloves of Discomfort should do."
    "Is sire sure? I think that the Gauntlets of Minor Inconvienience would suit you more."
    "I AM sure." The Witch King replied.
    As they went to place them on the Witch King yelled,
    "Slowly you fools...I've just had a manicure!"
    "Sorry my liege."

    "Weapons?" They asked together.
    "The Spiked Mace of Headaches will do nicely." The Witch King said, placing the mace under his arm.
    He was ready to ride to war.
    "SOUND THE GIANT BEAM OF LIGHT!" The Witch King yelled.
    "How can one sound light sir?" His advisor asked.
    "....Shut it."

    Sauron was busy playing Wii sports boxing and had just knocked his opponent to the ground.
    "YEAH !" he roared. The countdown got to nine and then his opponent stood back up.
    "AGAIN?" Sauron roared as a messenger burst into the room.
    "My lord?" Sauron immediately paused the game.
    "Nothing...just yelling at my Wii, like a normal person. What is it?"
    "The Witch King is marching to war." Sauron smiled happily.

    "Excellent...now here's the plan, Gondor must not know that we are coming to attack until the last possible secon-"
    A giant beam of light shot up ino the sky from Minas Morgul, illuminating the sky for miles around. Sauron and the messenger watched it from the window in an awkward silence. The beam slowly died away. Sauron shook his head slowly.
    "Stratch that....send word to Gothmog to attack at once."
    "Understood sir."

    Gothmog stood on the prow of the boats as they crossed the ruined city.
    "Quiet." he whispered to his oarsmen. They slowed down. He waited a few seconds before saying,
    "Row faster." One of his oarsmen piped up,
    "You just told us to go slower."
    Gothmog glared at him with his deformed face. It was quite an ugly face, apparently caused during an accident involving several trolls, farting and a match. He never went into details. Why should he when he was the most badass of all orcs? Except for that strategist bastard.
    "Just shut it and row."

    As they made landfall the orcs charged itnot he city, just as men of Gondor sprang from the shadows and began to attack the orcs. Gothmog smiled as the insubordinate oarsman was cut down by Faramir, leader of the IR and a clever tactician. However he and his men were being pushed from the city, something that Gothmog loved. He enjoyed watching the men be smashed in the face with hammers, despite the fact their armour was supposed to be the greatest in Middle-Earth. He loved watching so called, 'Elite troops' being cut to pieces by an untrained snaga.

    After a brief fight, the city was theirs. Gothmog, flanked by two orcs, went into the city centre and found the still living body of an old man lying prone on the ground.
    "Spear." he gestured to a nearby orc.
    With a grunt he thrust it into the man's chest, who gave a gasp before dying. Then Gothmog said something truly badass.
    "The age of men is over....the time of the orc is now."

    He made to pull the spear from the body. It stuck fast. He pulled a little harder. It remained stuck. He pulled with all his strength but it still remaiend stuck fast.
    "Help me get this out!" he roared at the others. They all grabbed and pulled really hard, which resulted in the shaft being pulled free but breaking off the tip. Gothmog stared at the broken shaft in horror. The orc who had given him the spear was really angry.
    "That was me dad's spear you tossbag! Compensaton or else!" Gothmog slowly handed over the money and stared guiltily at Minas Tirith while the orc stormed off.
    "I may have just buggered up my victory speech." he said to the remaining orc, who nodded slowly.


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 3:The Siege of Minas Tirith and the taking of the Black Fleet.

    Gothmog gazed upon the city with it's imprenable walls and the shining tower of Ecthelion and was awed by it. Still when you are leading an army two hundred thousand strong you can't really be daunted by much. He rode as close as he dared to the walls.

    "Surrender now, and your lives shall be spared! You will join us on our quest to find the one ring!"
    The reply came. "We've already got one mate."
    Gothmog was startled.
    "WHAT?" he roared. "Well...can you give it to me and we'll go away and leave you alone?"
    "YOUR MOMMA WAS A HAMSTER AND YOUR FATHER SMELLED OF ELDERBERRIES." came the huge roar from all the defenders.
    Gothmog fled the wall weeping.
    "How could they say such hurtful things?" he wondered.

    'meanwhile, somewhere on the River Anduin.'

    The cosair ships were going along at a reasonable rate, considering all of the crew was hammered. The flag ship itself was imposing, with it's five sails and extravagant bar below deck. They had planned to build a lap dancing bar as well, but they thought it could wait until after the war. The commander, Yack Scarrow, was busy steering with one hand along the extremely dangerous straits, and drinking with the other. He'd once tried drinking with both hands and not steering, but that had led to an unfortunate loss for the cosair fleet. He, unlike most of High Command, had all of the limbs that he was born with, and drank at least twice as much as anyone else aboard.

    It was how he had got the position. The challenges to becoming Corsair King involved several challenges, involving a race after drinking a barrel of rum. Contestants had to drink the rum, then run along a quay without falling in, then climb aboard a ship and sail it to a small island, and retrieve a flag, then sail back, run along the quay again and finally get back to the start. Scarrow had been the only one to survive the test, and was declared the winner despite only having reached his ship first. All the others had fallen off the quay, then were so drunk that they believed the salt water to be alcohol, and drank so much of it that they instantly dehydrated themselves and died.

    One of his (Sober) advisors ran to him.
    "Lord Scarrow. There is a badass looking man on shore who wants to speak with you."
    "Shend 'im aboard matey." Scarrow spluttered, covering the advisor with a mixture of phlegm, saliva and rum.
    The badass looking man walked onto the deck.
    "Show, what d'ya want on me ship matey?"
    "I ask that you relinquish control of this ship." The badass looking man said.
    " Ah don't think so matey. This be my ship, my crew an' my bottle of rum."
    The badass man clicked his fingers and hundreds of green ghosts popped out of nowhere and slaughtered the crews on the ships. Scarrow leapt up and attempted to stab a ghost with his cutlass, and missed.

    Scarrow was cornered on his flagship.
    "The cap'n goes down with 'is ship." he cried. The badass man grabbed his rum bottle and threw it overboard.
    "Me rum!" Scarrow cried and dived overboard. The badass man rubbed his hands together and said,
    "Excellent work, now whose for lunch?"

    Scarrow managed to find his rum in the end and swam back to Umbar, where he told tales of his heroic last stand upon the deck of his flagship as his men fought to the death around him. Unlike most other evil characters in the book, Scarrow never wrote any memoirs so....I guess that kind of ruins the running joke....um...anyway where was I?

    Back at Minas Tirith Gothmog watched as the last of the Gondorian heads flew over the battlements. That should keep them nice and scared. He turned to his lieutenant.
    "Prepare to fire the catapults."
    "Of course si-" The lieutenants face blanched. "Um..sir?" Gothmog was too busy brooding.
    "Yes....this will be the last hope of man..."
    "SIR!" The lieutenant cried.
    "WHAT?" Gothmog roared, stepping aside. "Can't you see I'm-"
    A boulder missed him by inches and flattened the lieutenant.

    "Oh." Gothmog was surprised. He grabebd a random orc.
    "You. How do you feel about a promotion?"
    The orc started crying.
    "Why are you-"
    "It's just.....me dad never thought I'd make it so far."
    "Oh? And what happened to your dad?"
    "Kicked out of the Dark Tower window."
    "Aww."

    Very soon the siege towers had reached the walls and orcs were pouring onto them.
    "My lord." a messenger cried. "The men of Gondor are retreating from the walls."
    "Excellent," roared Gothmog. "Move into the city!"
    "I'm afraid we can't."
    "Why not?"
    "The walls are beingheld by an old guy and a fat midget and our men are scared of them."
    "Well get the Witch King and his cronies to kill them!"

    The Witch King at this point was flying around, casually taking out catapults and throwing men from the walls. Suddenly he got a phone call.
    " What!" he roared. "Can't you see I'm on the job at the moment."
    "I kind of need you to take out an old guy and a fat dude."
    " Gothmog just break down the bloody door."
    " But I want to get the walls!"
    "You're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off!"

    As Grond approached the great gate and fell twice upon the gate, Gothmog smiled and wondered who and what he would rape and pillage first. Probably someone on the second tier, a well known Gondorian red light district. Grond fell a third time and splintered the top of the gate. And stuck fast.
    Gothmog groaned and quickly phoned up the Witch King.
    "It's stuck." he yelled. Sniggering was heard from the phone.
    "That's what she said."
    "Shut it....how are supposed to get in now."
    "Simple...I wasn't expecting the Spanish Inquisition."

    Suddenly all of the wood and iron was for naught as the three red clad Inquisitors broke the gate in one push, before being promptly filled with arrows.
    "See," The Witch King said smugly. "Two birds with one stone."
    As Mordor poured into the stricken city horns filled the air and all eyes turned upon the north....where Rohan had come.


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 4: Pelennor Blues

    "Line up!" roared Gothmog. "Pikes at the front, archers at the back! Move it you slags!"
    The orcs quickly lined up, but then another cry came from the city and all were shocked and awed by it.
    From the top of the grand tower of Ecthelion, in perhaps the first example of a combustion driven aircraft, plunged a tiny fireball. Orcs tembled and wept as it fell and even the Witch King stopped playing Angry Birds for five seconds to watch. Then the fireball went out as it smashed into the courtyard below.

    Gothmog turned back to the matter at hand. The leader of the horse bastards was now riding across the line and chanting "DEATH! DEATH!"
    "Wonderful." thought Gothmog. Suicidal mounted lancers. How bloody lovely. Suddenly the mass of horses began to move forward.
    "AIM!" he roared at the archers. The horsemen were closer now. Closer, Closer.
    "FIREEEEEE!" he screamed and thousands of bows twanged. Unfortunately half of the troops weren't even holding the bow the right way and ended up shooting themselves. Most of the arrows that did fly missed. But enough hit to make a scene more epic than a slow-mo Shogun 2 charge. Many horsemen went flying, although many fell off through laughing at the hosts of Morgul.

    Gothmog was smiling with glee until he realised that he was not far behind the pikemen and was about to get run over by thousands of horses. He began to walk back slowly, then blind panic set in and he legged it through the ranks. The pikemen lost heart and their heads a second later as the horsemen crushed them into the ground. Gothmog himself got speared through the face by an old cripple who needed crutches to make his horse move. The horse itself was so old that it needed a zimmer frame. What an inglorius end of the commander whose great victories included....um......ah.....hold on.....( Where is that wikipedia page...) Ah got it! The Fall of Gondoli- Oh....different Gothmog. Sorry.

    The orcs were being totally destroyed, some heading to the city to try and aid the attack and others fleeing towards the Anduin. As Rohan stood triumphant the horns of Harad sounded and the mumakil approached. As Gothmog lay on the ground, and saw the Mumakil approach, his last words were,
    "There's a spear in my arse."

    Jamal was in one of the elephants. Having narrowly convinced Mr Jackson to let him stay on he was quite enjoying his career choice. Free pornography for firing a few arrows...brilliant. He smiled as the stupid horseman charged the mumakil, which resulted in horses flying through the air like a sick game of pinball. Jamal fired an arrow at one horse bastard and sent him tumbling just as a huge foot crushed his face. Unfortunately the bastards were getting smart, using javelins like pros and killing many of Jamal's friends.

    Jamal thought he had seen the worst of it when one mumakil took two thousand arrows to the knee, prompting many jokes throughout the thing on the mumakil's back. Unfortunately for Jamal the elephant sped across to the side and smashed into his elephant, sending him flying out of the castle thing and smashing directly into a fat midget. He was killed instantly.

    By the docks an idiotic orc was wearing a skull on his head. Despite having the most stupid headwear in the Mordorian army, this imbecile also had the IQ of a peach stone. As the black ships approached, mysteriously unmanned and without the familiar scent of rum or sweat, he asked where they were.
    "MOVE IT YOU SWEATY BASTARDS!" he roared at the empty ships.
    He got his answer two seconds later when the badass guy lept from the ship, followed by the hacker elf and the crotch smashing dwarf. Not that the peach stone orc cared when a few thousand ghosts flew out of nowhere and killed him instantly...what a wally.

    The Witch King was busy observing his forces get smacked to oblivion. He swore, turned off Rome: Total War and concentrated on the battle below. Then he saw the perfect oppourtunity to kill the king.
    "Hi-Ho Silver! AWAY!" he cried to his steed, who replied,
    "Dude...seriously." before rushing at the king and killed his horse, sending the king flying beneath it.
    The steed trod on the horse as the Witch King said,
    "Feeeeast on his flesh." He appeared to have suffered yet another asthma attack as his voice rattled violently.
    "Ugh...old man flesh? Really? He'll be all bony and uh...can I at least put some pepper on him." asked the steed.
    "Do I look like the kind of guy who carries condiments around on me?"
    "You carry a picture of your own penis."
    "Hey that's private!"
    "With a penis like yours, it's no surprise."
    An arguement promptly broke out and probably would've continued to the middle of next week uninterrupted.

    Theoden looked very confused and probably would've died of old age before they had actually got round to killing him. Suddenly a very effeminate looking soldier stood before the Witch King.
    "I will kill you if you touch him!" he cried. The Witch King laughed.
    "Fool! Do not come between the Nazgul and his prey."
    The steed attacked the soldier, but promptly had it's head cut off. The Witch King fell from his steed with a roar.
    "Why are you not retreating? Your king is dead, isn't that how morale works?"
    "You've been playing too much Total War" his steeds severed head remarked.

    The Witch King ignored him and swung his mace of headaches at the soldier. Once, twice, thrice, he was about as accurate as a mordorian marksman. At last the soldier fell to the ground with his shield arm broken.
    "Fool! No man can kill me! Ask Glorfindel, I have it on a contract!" Suddenly he felt pain in his leg and fell to his knees.
    "BLOODY HOBBITS!" he cried as the soldier revealed....her face.
    "I am no man." she said.
    "Can we re-negotiate the contra-" the Witch King was about to say before being stabbed in the face and dying.

    In Mithlond, Glorfindel, a mafia styled godfather, laughed evilly as he saw the Witch King die.
    "Yo, Maloney!" he snapped his fingers at one of his boys. "Get me a coffee!"
    "What does this have in relation to the story boss?" asked Maloney.
    "Nothing, the author's just editing his crappy work." Glorfindel said, before suddenly clutching his throat and choking to death.
    (Insult MY work will ya you bastard!)

    End of book 4: The Return of the King


    Book 6: The Fall of Sauron and other interesting stuff

    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 1: Mandos

    (warning: The following few chapters are space fillers. Do not accept as canon lore, although if you actually believed my crap as being canon you really should check your blood sugar levels.)

    "TWO HUNDRED THOUSAND LOST?" Sauron roared into the phone. An orc grunt had just called him from Osgiliath.
    " I don't care if they had horses, why didn't our pikes deal with them? Don't give me that crpa about the sun blinding you, when we know damn well that the sun doesn't rise in the north! How could we fail? We even had the Haradrim back us up and we still lost. When the Witch King gets back I'm going to-"
    He paused as the messenger told him of the unfortunate death of the Witch King.
    "WHAT? DEAD? By a woman? I told that blithering idiot never to accept those 'never get killed' contracts, especially from that bastard insurance salesman Glorfindel! What? I don't care if you managed to save his Medieval 2 save from his carcass...wait....what? He got the Stainless Steel mod working? Bring it to me at once."

    After a fun day playing as England, and stomping the Scots and the Irish, Sauron retired to bed. As he tried to get to sleep he heard a rustling sound beside his bed. He sat up and saw a hooded figure standing before him.
    "Ok, knock it off Khamul!" Sauron yelled at the figure.
    "Sauron?" The figure asked.
    "Yeeeeeah?"
    "I am the bringer of your doom." And the hooded figure cast aside his hood, and lo, beneath lay another hood.
    "Mandos?" Sauron said sheepishly.
    "Who else could pull off this look?" Mandos said triumphantly.

    After giving Mandos a warm beverage, Sauron sat down with him and the two had a little conversation.
    "So hows things back in your halls?" he asked.
    "Terrible. Those darned hobbits are eating me out of house and home."
    "Hobbits go to your halls?" Sauron asked.
    "Yeah. Eru apparently didn't want them, something to do with 'A headache.' and Manwe said I had to look after the bastards. We've had to convert the Tree memorial site into a pipeweed plantation just to keep up with demand!"
    "That sounds nasty."
    "I've also got Maiar demanding more pay. But we don't even need to eat so I have no idea why they want money."
    "Why don't you give them free pornography like I do?" Sauron said.
    "Already tried it. Apparently they're into harder stuff."
    "Illegal?"
    "How illegal do you think it is to photograph Varda in the shower?"
    "Oh dear."

    Mandos suddenly tapped his head.
    "Ah yes, now I remember why I was here. I am here to show you the error of your ways, so that you may escape certain doom."
    "Huh?" Sauron said, clearly confused.
    "Behold my master disguise, THE GHOST OF EVIL BASTARD'S PAST!!!!"
    "O...K" said Sauron just as the floor dissolved around him and the world changed.

    Chapter end.

    It is rather short because I accidently deleted this the last time I was going to post it. Plus I think the layout will work better for this section. A vision a chapter and all that. Onwards to Evil Bastard's past!


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 2: Evil Bastard's past.

    They materialised into the middle of a pitched battle. At one end was Sauron and the other an elf who had a noble look about him. They were firing all sorts of strange enchantments and wizardry at each other, as well as yelling insults at each other.
    Past Sauron yelled, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
    The elf shook his head.
    "It's not even a real word, Gorthuar!"

    Mandos commented to Sauron as they watched,
    "You appear to have retained your sense of humour."
    "Of course." smiled Sauron.
    "Pity. I was hoping those Lee Evans DVD's I sent you would change your humour to a better humour."
    "And I was hoping that teeth whitener I sent you would work."
    "Oi! I still haven't forgotten about that time when you put Tulkas' pink underwear into my washing machine with my white social robes!"

    "HELLO?" yelled Past Sauron and the Elf. Mandos and Sauron turned to them.
    "Are you going to watch us duel to the death or not?" asked past Sauron.
    "It's not fun to duel to the death without an audience." protested the elf.
    "Fine." sighed Mandos and pulled up a chair.

    'Several hours later.'

    "Can you hurry this thing up!" roared Mandos. Little had changed in the battle for the past few hours.
    "God it reminds of that time I went to Wimbledon!" he said to Sauron.
    At last Past Sauron smashed the elf full in the face with a solid lump of energy. The elf collapsed as Past Sauron gloated over him.
    "Now you are mine Fingon!"
    "Actually I'm not Fingon." The elf grunted on the floor
    "Pardon? Oh sorry....Now you are mine Fingolfin!" Sauron looked triumphant again.
    "Not Fingolfin either."
    "Now you are mine Finwe!"
    "He's dead."
    "Now you are mine Feanor!"
    "Dead."
    "Now you are mine Finarfin!"
    "Nope."
    "Now you are mine Turgon!"
    "He's in...ooh nice try pal." Sauron dashed his fist against a table.
    "Now you are mine Galadriel!"
    "I'm not THAT effeminate."

    Mandos sighed and clicked his fingers. The scene dissolved in front of them.
    "You had a habit of drawing out conversations." he commented to Sauron.
    "It's not my fault that they had so many children beginning with F" protested Sauron.

    They rematerialised as a fight between Wolf Sauron and Huan the Hound was in progress. They were yelping and biting each other violently.
    "Do you speak dog?" enquired Mandos.
    "I was taught some by a trickster, who told me it meant "You are my slave."
    "What did it actually mean?"
    "Bite me."
    As the Hounds fought a beautiful elf maiden was watching the fight. She was truly the most beautiful creature on Middle Earth and even Mandos' heartstrings were twinged slightly. Wolf Sauron stopped to look at her.

    "Oh stop that!" cried Mandos. " You're practically salivating over her!"
    "I was a wolf! I couldn't help it!"
    "It's no excuse!"
    "Well you're hardly innocent here. We all know your let her out of Mandos for some seedy reason!"
    "It was a song!" protested Mandos.
    "Oh it always starts with a song!"

    "Oi!" the elf maiden yelled at them.
    "Ok, ok." said Mandos. He mouthed to her, 'Love you'
    They watched the fight progress until Wolf Sauron was beaten badly, grabbed by the throat and then told, sternly, to leave the place and never return. As he was released he transformed into a vampire and fled across the lawn, until he trod on a rake and it smashed him hard in the face. Sauron winced as he watched himself crumple to the floor.
    "Not my proudest moment." Sauron admitted.
    "The good ol' Loony Tunes." Mandos said. "You just can't beat it. Now onto Evil Bastard's Present!"

    Chapter end

    I'd just quickly like to thank everyone who has viewed this thread (Up to a thousand at the time of writing) because you make this joker proud!


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 3: Evil Bastard's present (and future)

    Mandos and Sauron re-materialised above Ithilien, where they observed the ragged remains of King Elessar's army heading towards the Black Gate. Sauron clenched his fist in anger.
    "I will crush this so-called king and his armies in one swoop," he roared.
    "You do realise that they can't hear you?" asked Mandos.
    "Oh...Well, I do tend to shout out my feelings."
    "Don't I know it! Remember at the Feast of Valinor, you screamed at Varda 'You have big breasts' "
    "They were over-sized!"
    "I know but you don't yell it out! You gossip down the pub with your friends."
    "Going off topic again."
    "I know." Mandos sighed and clicked his fingers, teleporting them away.

    They rematerialised above Erebor, where hundreds of Easterlings were swarming around a lone dwarf.
    "What!" cried Sauron. "Why are my porn-addled Easterlings cutting this dwarf to pieces?"
    "Because they are too busy laughing at his elaborate cod-piece." answered Mandos.
    He was right. The Easterlings were busting a gut laughing at the dwarf's ginormous codpiece. It appeaered to have been crafted out of solid mithril and been orlayed with pearls, with scenes of ancient battles carved onto the sides.
    "It is pretty elaborate." admitted Sauron. His Easterling's agreed, with some rolling on the ground as arrows from the moutnain rained down upon them.
    "Ok lets stop now." said Sauron and Mandos clicked his fingers and they teleported away.

    They appeared in Lothlorien, where an orcish army was charging at elves, while being shot to pieces from the trees. The arrows glided through the orc armies paper armour, which was rendered useless because the orcs had been caught in a recent rain shower. The orc deforestation tactic, to remove the elven hiding spots, were backfiring because now there was no oxygen being produced from the trees via photosynthesis and therefore hundreds were falling from asthma attacks. More than half were falling due to asthma, the other half from being shot, and one percent were killed when they accidently ran into trees.
    "Take me away from this farce!" commanded Sauron and Mandos obliged.

    They appeared in Imladris, in frint of a shower with the curtain drawn, a shapely figure behind it.
    "." muttered Mandos and teleported them outside Imladris.
    "Sorry," he said to Sauron. "Wrong spot."
    "Still thinking about Luthien and her shapely descendents?" leered Sauron.
    "No I am not!"
    "Come now Mandos. It's good for well-being to release all of your sexual frustration."
    "Right, that's it! I'm taking you to Evil Bastard's future!"
    "You wouldn't-" Sauron was cut off as the floor vanished beneath him.

    He woke in a graveyard, with Mandos pointing at a grave. Sauron gazed at the grave and read the name off of it.
    "Ebeneezer Scrooge." he read. Mandos looked at him and stomped over to the grave.
    "What? , wrong work of fiction." he snapepd his fingers and they reappeared in another graveyard. Sauron went to the nearby grave and read,
    "Sauron. A gutless bastard who deserves to have his testicles removed and burned in front of him. Love Mom." 'Love Mum'? Sauron frowned. he thought he'd bumped off the old bat years ago.

    "So now you see?" asked Mandos as mist filled the graveyard.
    "I can't see anything, the fog's too thick!" roared Sauron.
    "Too much fog!" roared Mandos and it slowly subsided.
    "How did you do that?" asked Sauron.
    "It is my power!" roared Mandos.
    "Hang on...no it isn't...I can see a man with a smoke machine hiding behind the grave over there!"

    "ANYWAY!" interrupted Mandos. "Now you see what will happen of you continue on your Evil Bastard way?"
    "I die and get a terrible epitaph from my mother?"
    "Yes."
    "The incentives are so good." said Sauron sarcastically.
    "So you will not change your ways?"
    "Why should I when my army is invincible?"
    "Your general got killed by a cripple on a crippled horse. Your army sucks."
    "Screw you!"

    Mandos clicked his fingers and Sauron appeared in his room. Mandos' disembodied voice said,
    "Heed my warnings or you will look like a prat!"

    Suddenly a messenger came through the door and said,
    "My lord. They have come."


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 4: The Wrath of Sauron.

    Sauron peered through his telescope at the rag-tag army at his gates. He wasn't impressed.
    "HAH! We shall crush them like ants! How many soldiers do we have that can fight?" he asked the messenger.
    "Ten thousand sir, plus one troll."
    "Only one? Since when had Mordor only had one troll?"
    "Apparently he had influenza and thus was unable to attend the siege of Minas Tirith."
    "So we have an army of reserves and a sick troll against their battle hardened veterans?"
    "We still outnumber them. Also you should really choose a successor to the Witch King."
    "Already on it." Sauron grinned maniacally. "It will be a test that will strain physical and mental power to the limit."
    "You can't mean-" the messenger paled.
    "Oh yes....Oh yes." smiled Sauron as he placed his hands together.

    Near the black gate the remaining eight Nazgul were holding lots of raffle tickets and gazing at the announcer in anticipation. Roy was literally shaking in his squeaky clean boots. His chance to shine, like his mother had once told him, was now.
    "Orcs and Orcs!" the announcer roared. "The raffle winner shall be announced."He groped around in a hat and pulled out the winning ticket.
    "Number 300457.67!" he cried. A lone orc at the back started crying.
    "I'VE WON!" the orc screamed. "I AM THE NEW WITCH KING!" He fell to his knees and was lifted up by the other orcs and carried on their shoulders.
    The Nazgul stood in a daze, just looking at the orc with angry looks on their faces. Copernicus spoke first.
    "If it's any consilation to you fellas, I only wanted to win the bone china tea set."

    Atop the Towers of the Teeth two orcs gazed at the host of the King Elessar.
    "They've been standing there for two hours." one grumbled.
    "It's not our fault. The raffle is a very important event." the other said.
    "The dwarf keeps looking at my crotch though. It's very unnerving."
    "We can have dwarf burgers later, that'll calm your nerves."
    "True. Very true."
    Suddenly a cry went up from Cirith Ungol and all eyes turned to the tower.

    "THEY WHAT?" rored Sauron at the latest unfortunate messenger. "What do you mean everyone's dead?"
    "Exactly what I mean. Everyone killed each other in the tower."
    "God damm it! We're more dysfunctional than the UK's border force!"
    "It was fought over a very nice shirt though sir." said the messenger.
    "Wait....mithril shirt?"
    "Yep."
    "Short fellow?"
    "Apparently."
    "Curly hair?"
    "Uh-huh."
    "Smelly feet."
    "Caused two asthma attacks."

    Sauron's grimaced under his helmet.
    "Did he....have a pretty ring?"
    "Nope...but he DID have a large selection of lollipops on him."
    "Drat." said Sauron. "Still, I suppose he died in the chaos?"
    "Nope because the OTHER hobbit broke him out."
    "Other hobbit? Did he have a ring?"
    "Well....we don't know because he killed everyone."
    "A fat midget killed our border guards? How is that even possible." Sauron was incensed.
    "Apparently he sat on one of them."
    "Ouch. Hang on, you haven't answered my question."
    "That's because it would've ruined the joke."
    "Haven't you just ruined the joke?"
    "...Bugger."

    Outside the Dark Tower, the Mouth of Sauron was reciting his speech he was supposed to give.
    "Who here has the authority to meet with me- DANG IT!" he roared. Suddenly an orc messenger rushed up to him and bundled the hobbits clothing into his hands and forced him to the Black Gate. As he stood there, knees quaking, the Gate began to open slowly.

    Chapter end.

    The end is coming.


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 5: OFFENCE!

    The Mouth of Sauron rode forward to meet the Captains of the West. Most of them looked very tall and scary, except for the hobbits, who were just adorable. He quickly cursed himself for thinking the word 'adorable' as such words were banned under Article 151.1234123, including 'fluffy' 'cuddly' and 'aaaaaaaaaw'

    He faced the captains and they seemed to draw back in fear...or was that disgust?
    "Is there something wrong with my face?" he asked them politely. The badass king answered.
    "Would you mind awfully just maybe...using mouthwash...or possibly brush your teeth?"
    "Are you insulting my hygiene?" the MoS asked.
    "Yes." replied the dwarf.
    "That's an offence! Under article 151.1234124 it states, clear as day, 'diplomats are not to be insulted over their hygiene!"

    "Look," said the badass king, arms outstretched. "We've been waiting here for several hours, the sandwiches have run out, and I kind of want to get back to frolicking with my elven girlfriend, so can we just get on with this?"
    "OFFENCE! Under article 123.123412 it states, clear as my conscience, 'No one is to leave a diplomatic meeting in order to 'frolick with girlfriends'" The MoS said triumphantly.
    "Anyway," he continued. "Why bother to fight when we have THIS!" He pulled out the hobbits clothing and everyone gasped. A cry of 'Kiddie Fiddler!" from the Gondorian ranks broke the silence.
    "OFFENCE! Under article 151.1234122 it states, clearer than Arwen's complexion, 'No one is to accuse a diplomat of being a 'kiddie fiddler' 'Dirty paedo bastard' or 'Gary Glitter'."

    "What are your demands for the release of the prisoner?" asked the old man.
    "It's very simple. You are to withdraw from the lands east of the Aundin, pay tribute to Mordor and to Sauron, to give back the Minas Tirith charity shop to Sauron and to pay my fee for having to come out here and-"
    "Outrageous!" cried the Old Man. "All this for a useless who got captured? Screw you, and stick your demands up your-"
    "OFFE-" The badass king promptly pulled out his sword and decapitated the MoS before he could utter another useless article.
    "OFFENCE!" cried the MoS head, before it was promptly taken up in a bag, sealed up, sat on by one of the hobbits and then beaten into the dirt by the dwarf. It was victory over the article bastards.

    Sauron fumed as the MoS made an absolute fool of himself before being decapitated. The badass King suddenly caleld out at the gate.
    "Let the lord of the black land come forth! Let justice be done upon him!"
    Sauron would've come but then he saw the mean sword the king was carrying and started to cough pathetically. He caleld out to the King.
    "Look, Gorny, I'd love to come out and fight but, you see I've got all this paperwork and forms and all sorts of crap like that."
    "You would stay in your tower like a coward?"
    "If it means I get to spend more time with your mum, then yes." Sauron replied.
    "I'm gonna whoop your ass so hard!"
    "Like I did with your mum?"
    "SHUT UP!" the king roared.

    And Sauron released his hosts. They quickly surrounded the hosts of the West and waited there, unmoving. Sauorn thought suddenly as he watched.
    "Where the hell are the Nazgul?"

    The Nazgul were currently beating their new Witch King to death with a large rock.
    "AAAH! BUT I WON THE RAFF-" the 'Witch King' was quickly cut off in mid sentence by a giant volcanic rock landing on his face.
    "What a retard," said Khamul to the others. They all nodded in agreement.
    "Hang on..." Roy said suddenly. "I'm pretty sure that we were supposed to be somewhere around about now."
    They stratched their heads and looked around, hoping for a sign. Two hobbits crept behind them as thye trie to think about what they were supposed to do.
    "GOT IT!" cried Roy. "The battle to crush the forces of men forever!"
    The other Nazgul did the usual, 'Aaaaaah' and 'Oh' before walking back to their steeds and mounting them, heading for the battle to end all battles.

    Chapter end.


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 6: The fall of Barad'dur plus various other silly happenings.

    "Hello, this is Battle of the Day, with your host Gary L and Alan S and Alan H." A curtain rose and the elf and the two dwarves from Helm's Deep stood in a studio overlooking the Dagorland.
    "Hello," said the Elf, smiling. "We come to you live from a chamber that Lord Sauron lovingly rented to us. Apparently it has been used before-" Suddenly Alan S stiffened.
    "Um....guys?" he said slowly. "Why is there a dismembered arm underneath my chair?"
    Gary L motioned and several cleaners picked up the appendage and ran off.
    "ANYway" he continued. "Today we bring you video footage of the Battle of Morannon, without commentary because they both were killed at Helm's Deep. Still there is time to discuss the team strengths before the match starts."

    Alan H began.
    "Gotta be honest with you Gary, it looks like this is going to be a pretty one-sided affair. Mordor has the distinct advantage with it's star striker Trollus Trollus and the United Forces are almost entirely depleted and worn down."
    "Agreed." said Alan S before stiffening again. "WHAT IS THAT ON MY ING SHOULDER!" he screamed.
    "It seemed to come from the-" Gary L looked up. "OH MY GOD IT'S A GIANT-"
    He never finsihed the sentence because Shelob immediately dropped down on him and ate him.
    Cries of "Oh !" were cut off, and the camera fell on it's side, revealing the last few seconds of the BBC crew. None survived.

    Sauron chuckled as he watched the chaos in the chamber.
    "That's for cancelling my Impressions Show you politically correct bastards!" he roared to the wind, before storming back inside as the two armies below clashed. Suaron sat in his armchair and looked at his two new guards. They were hand picked from the Mordorian ranks, and were considered pretty much unkillable. Apparently. Though they'd said that about Roggy and look what happened to him. Still, he still had his steel reinforced door, and his big, off mace.

    As he sat there, the merest whisper of battle reaching his ears, he heard somehting different. He sat up. It was coming from his door and it appeared to be...hissing? Suddenly his door exploded into fragments and a boy dressed in green charged through the door. He quickly spotted the two door guards, did a little roll and decapitated them instantly, before rushing at Sauron, pausing to kick over a table for no reason and charged again.

    Sauron rose to meet this new threat but the boy just raised his shield and thrust it directly into Sauron's face. Sauron heard his nose break and he fell to the ground. The boy placed his badass sword at Sauron's throat. Suddenly a fairy appeared from the boy and said triumphantly.
    "It is over Ganondorf! Where is the Princess? Where is your insidious plot twist?"
    "Pardon?" said Sauron politely.
    "Don't get smart with me !" roared the fairy, causing the boy to push the sword closer. "Where is Princess Zelda?" Suddenly the fairy squinted.
    "Oh....you're not Ganondorf?"
    "Go bloody figure." said Sauron, with his nose bleeding badly.

    The Fairy sighed.
    "I wondered where all of the normal puzzles were." It suddenly rounded on the boy.
    "Link you blithering idiot! Show me your Ocarina!"
    Link pulled out the ocarina silently. The fairy looked at it and yelled,
    "That's the Ocarina of Dimensions you fool! It was SUPPOSED to be the Ocarina of TIME! T-I-M-E!"
    "Has anyone ever told you that you are REALLY annoying," asked Sauron.
    "Shut up! I am trying to yell at my colleague."

    Link looked very embarrased. The fairy sighed and turned back to Sauron.
    "I'm very sorry about this. You see, we were all ready, we'd just upgraded our sword, got all of the potions and fairies."
    "We've all been there," admitted Sauron.
    "We'll send you compensation through the post. MOVE IT LINK!" she screamed at the boy.
    The boy began to trudge out of the room when suddenly the fairy stopped, panic on it's face.
    "Oh no....they are here." she whimpered.
    "Who are?" asked Sauron politely.
    "The....the....oh gods it's too horrible to contemplate. How many men do you have?"
    "Ten thousand." replied Sauron, but then a guttural cry from outside caused him to say,
    "Nine thousand nine hundred and ninety nine."

    "It's not enough...it's never enough to stop them. They come, as one, in a never ending tempest of fire and fear, burning lives and shattering dreams in their path. They seek the total annihilation of living things, and to subject their opinions on others!"
    "Who...are they?" asked Sauron.
    The fairy suddenly screamed out to the world at large.
    " THE FANBOYS ARE COMING! THE FANBOYS ARE COMING!" before she and the boy quickly played the Ocarina and escaped.

    All heard that cry that day. In Valinor, Manwe accidently cut himself with his shaving razor because he got distracted by the cry. He promptly cursed and accidently caused a hurricane to form in Umbar. In Rivendell Elrond looked at the sky and foretold prophecies of doom. Like he did most days, the pessimistic bastard. In Lorien, Galadriel was knocked off balance by the cry and accidently fell into her mirror, in which she promptly disintergrated. In Minas Tirith, the last glass panel in the city was shaken off and accidently fell upon the three Spanish Inquisition members as they slowly dusted off the hundred arrows stuck in them. The Nazgul turned their eyes to the south, doubt and fear creeping into their minds.

    The Great Eagles themselves, flying from their aeries to help the Host of the West, heard the cry and decided that the Host of the West could handle itself without them. And on the southern horizon, drawn by the glorious power of the Master Sword, and the GPS tracker they had placed on Link's back.....(Dramatic pause)................................................................................................................
    ...........................(That's enough Lortano).....................................................................
    .....................................(Seriously, that's enough).............................................................
    they came....

    (DUN DUN DUUUUUUN)

    To be continued....


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 6: part 2: The Fall of Barad'dur and other silly things

    Where they came from, no-one knew. It was a dark, cold place, devoid of light, emotion, kindness and friendship. This had shaped their reasoning beyond belief, to the point where all opinions were considered nul and void. Their armour glinted green under the dying sunlight, because most of them were wearing lame costumes. These foul creatures were responsible for some of the most horrifying things in existence, including Link and Zelda romantic fan fictions. This was the power that was joining the struggle for power in Middle-Earth. This was the power of the fanboys.

    With cries of "Ocarina is teh best!" and "Skyward Sword is fer Noobz LOL" the fanboys charged the Mordorian forces. Their plastic, cheap ass Master Sword replicas were charged with their hatred and blatant disregard for all other lifeforms, and thus they cut through the Mordorian armour with ease. The Host of the West immediately stopped fighting and withdrew to a safe distance, placing hankerchiefs in their ears to save themselves from the wrath of the fanboys.

    Sauron gazed in horror at the fanboys as they began to crush his army, as their self important rantings caused the one troll left in Mordor to eat his own hand, as death filled Dagorland once more. A messenger ran behind Sauron. Sauron turned and grabbed him.
    "You! What should we do?"
    "Well I was just packing my suitcase....so...um...Ciao!" yelled the messenger and ran away.
    Sauron roared to the wind.
    "Desperate times call for desperate measured!" he cried. "I WASN'T EXPECTING A KIND OF SPANISH INQUISTION!"

    Suddenly, from the north, the three Scarlet Inquisitors rode upon white horses towards the battle.
    An unholy dischord sounded through the air as, above the winds, a cry of ,
    "NOBODY EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!" could be heard, and the Inquisitors smashed into the fanboys. Their chief weapon being surprise they quickly killed many of the fanboys instantly. They beat some to death with soft cushions, as while the cushions themselves were not fatal, the softness reminded the fanboys of happiness, which instantly short circuited their brains. For a time, the fanboys were retreating under the combined might of Mordor and the Spanish Inquisition. Screams of, "LMAO..UUAAAGH!" and "YOU CANNOT BREAK THE HERO OF T-SPLAT" sounded through the battlefield and was music to Sauron's ears.

    But, in his moment of triumph, fear took Sauron and he gazed to the convienient door that he had made into Mount Doom. It was open.
    "I TOLD THOSE BLOODY NAZGUL TO CLOSE THE DOOR!" he roared to the wind. He gazed inside and saw a hobbit standing upon the edge of Doom, holding his ring.
    "!" screamed Sauron and he roared to the Nazgul, with a megaphone,
    "GET TO MOUNT DOOM, YOU BASTARDS! THAT FAT MIDGET IS IN THERE WITH MY TRINKET!"

    The Nazgul were more than happy to go, as the fanboys were hurling missles and insults their way, some of them very mean indeed.
    As they flew towards the mountain Sauron roared again,
    "FASTER YOU CRETINS!" Khamul grumbled and replied,
    "WHY ARE THERE NO TURBO CHARGERS ON THESE THINGS! MORE BUDGET CUTS?"
    "NO!" came the reply. "Possibly." muttered Sauron under his breath.
    "THE POINT STILL STANDS!" roared Sauron again.

    He turned back to the mountain and saw that foul creature Gollum hit a fat hobbit over the head with a brick.
    "Maybe I should've hired that guy instead of the Nazgul" thought Sauron. Suddenly a cry went up over the mountain.
    "LET'S GET READY TO RUMBLLLLLLEEEEE!" Sauron frowned as American voiceovers sounded throught the air.
    "Welcome WWE fans, as we come to you LIVE from Mordor, Middle Earth for the main event tonight!"
    Another voice said,
    "It may not be as big as say, Dora the Explorer against as Panda Bear, but this is still pretty big."
    "Right you are J.R" the first man said.

    "And the fight begins!" the first man said again as Gollum jumped on an invisible hobbit.
    "Gollum's althleticism might just see him through here Jerry!" JR said,
    "OH! Elbow to the FACE!" roared Jerry.
    "That has got to hurt" commented JR
    "Wait, hold on...Oh my God, Oh my ing God, AND THERE IT IS! Gollum's signature move, 'The Finger Bite!"
    "There goes that hobbit's finge-"
    "WHAT THE IS THAT BEHIND Y-" screams ensued and the voices cut out, mainly because Shelob had found them and was deovuring them.

    In Mount Doom, a hobbit fell to the ground, now clearly visible, while Gollum stood over him, holding the ring in his hand.
    "PRECIOUS, PRECIOUS, PRECIOUS, PRECIOUS!" it screamed and started dancing a little jig.
    "And people think I'm weird," muttered Sauron. " Still, at least it hasn't fallen into the lava-"
    Suddenly Gollum slipped on the hobbits finger and fell backwards into the lava.
    "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
    screamed Sauron, before realsing that nothing had happened to him.
    "I'm not dead?" he said. "I'M NOT ING DEAD! YEAH! YOU MANDO-" suddenly the Tower started to rumble. Sauron gazed up at the ceiling, confused slightly. Then the tower fell down, killing Suaron instantly, and causing Mount Doom to explode violently.

    At the Black Gate two of the Inquisitors were dead, and the soft cushions had lost all of their stuffing. Not that it mattered, because a freak hurricane that narrowly missed the Host the West, except for the two hobbits, whom Gandalf threw into the Hurricane, proposing that they chalk it up to, "Jolly bad luck," took out all of Mordor's amries, the final Inquisitor and the fanboys, and carried them away, to a place where they could no longer destroy lives. And the Black Gate fell over.

    The Nazgul were too late. Fire boulders rained from the sky and smashed Copernicus, who fell to Earth with a cry of,
    "Me bone China tea set!"
    Only two of the Nazgul remained. Khamul the Easterling and Roy, diving away from the mountain in a depserate bid for freedom. Unortunately, due to the author being an evil bastard, they didn't escape. Firstly a fanboy shaken free from the hurricane landed on Khamul and started talking. This was enough to drive Khamul insane, causing him to divert his mount into the approaching cataclysm. It is unknown wether the fanboy escaped vapourisation. Roy wept for his friend, although Khamul never gave a toss about him, and flew on.

    As Roy escaped the mountain, he realised that he was no longer bound to the will of Sauron, possibly because Sauron was buried underneath two thousand tonens of rubble.
    "I'm FREE!" he cried. "I'm my own man now. I can sail the world, see the sights, get a house, a job, a mortgage, an ironing board! I can live my life in peace!" Unfortunately, he was so caught up in his dream that he accidently flew into some power lines and was decapitated. So much for freedom.

    And after all of Sauron's works had crumbled, his creatured dispersed and destroyed, a lone orc climbed the last bits of a moutnain that would take him into Mordor and give him a great view. it was Gazrak the Slightly More Sneaky, and he had been on a vacation. He then said perhaps the most underwhelming line ever.
    "Well, I'm back!" he said cheerfully as he rubbed his sweat on a stereotypical Australian holiday T-Shirt

    Suddenly he noticed the utter desolation of Mordor. His jaw dropped.
    "What?" he said slowly.
    "What!"
    "WHAT!
    "WHAAAAAAAT!!!!!" he cried to the wind, before suddenly being hit around the head by a broom and, as he fell, impaled by the broom repeatedly until he lay dead along the floor. The street cleaner was standing over his corspe, rage in his face. He yelled at the corpse,
    "SAY 'WHAT!' ONE MORE TIME MOTHERER! I DARE YOU-" the corpse did not reply.
    The cleaner gazed down at the devastation, threw down his broom, and stormed off.

    And thus comes the end of this tale, of the heroic (and farcical) Third Age of Middle Earth. Of the many who fell, of those who survived, of those who were slightly injured and those who recieved letters about unpaid bills, we remember them all, when we read this tale, smile and laugh, and realise what a complete and utter Sauron was.

    The End (Epic music plays in the background....slowly fading out.)


    Book 7: The Death of Evil.

    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 1: Prisoners

    Sauron awoke. He groggily got to his feet and gazed around. His eyes started to get used to the cell he was in. It had one window, dipped mositure from the roof, had a bad case of rising damp and was occaisonally rented out for cheapskate parties, by parents who couldn't care less.

    Sauron suddenly became aware that he was not alone. He turned towards the back of the cell, when a bald man stepped forward.
    "Hello Sauron," he said calmly. Sauron gasped. It couldn't be....
    "Lex?" asked Sauron. "Lex Luthor?"
    "The one and only, baby." said Lex with a smile.
    "How's it going then?"
    "Well not great considering that I'm stuck in a cell with the rest of the council."
    "They...they captured the council?" Sauron was dumbstruck.

    (As a quick side-note, Sauron and Lex Luthor were once members of Morgoth's Council of Evil Evilness, who spread woe and misery around Bereliand during the First Age. It was presumed that they were destroyed during the War of Wrath.)

    "Yes." said Lex gravely. "Those that they did not kill."
    "What about the Dalek?"
    "Dead."
    "Sylvestor Stallone?"
    "Dead, but he took a hundred of the bastards down with him."
    "The makers of the Philips-CDi Zelda games?"
    "The fanboys got to them before the Valar did. Horrible mess." Lex shook his head.
    "The White Witch?"
    "In the corner, over there."

    "So everyone got captured?" asked Sauron.
    "Everyone in this cell is a member of the Council, and all are on Death Row. They took Goeballs yesterday."
    "Well he was a useless tossbag anyway." Sauron commented.
    "True." agreed Lex. "Oh, but we did have a new guy in yesterday. Strange chap. White robes and a creepy beard."
    "Wait.....you don't mean-"

    Suddenly Saruman stepped out of the shadows.
    "Hello Sauron."
    "Erm....hello Saruman." Sauron said nervously. "How's...um...life?"
    "I'm dead you pillock!"
    "Dead? How? You didn't go overboard on one of those dwarves did you?"
    "Shut up! I'll have you know that I died in a humilitating way!"
    "To whom?"
    Saruman mumbled an incoherent answer.
    "Pardon."
    "Hobbits! Bloody, fat, short bastards, alright!"

    'Epic Flashback Time!'

    Saruman was sitting comfortably in Bag-End, after a nice meal. It had been pathetically easy to subjugate the Shire and it's inhabitants. There were many short wenches to sate Saruman's thirst for short love. Grima was outside, burying Lotho Sackville-Baggins, after murdering him. Saruman hated those double barrelled names, they made him want to boot Grima in the head really hard. Really, really hard.

    Suddenly the door flew open and a short, panicked hobbit ran in.
    "Sharkey!" he cried.
    "Yes." said Saruman curtly.
    "The hobbits have revolted! They've just wiped out your men!"
    Saruman sighed.
    "Well....looks like we've out-stayed our welcome. Get Grima for me on the way out. And kick him. Hard. In the testicles."

    Grima limped in clutching his testicles as Saruman packed his suitcase, a tiny purse that was bigger on the inside. However it weighed nothing if held by a wizard. So when Grima walked in, Saruman threw his purse at Grima, hitting him with five tonnes worth of clothing and valuables, including Wizard of the Year trophy. Grima collapsed, gasping for breath as he tried to pick the damn thing up.
    "Hurry up Grima," said Saruman as he walked into the living room as the four hobbits entered.

    He left the house, escorted by the hobbits. As he reached the road and Frodo Baggins sent him on his way, he couldn't resist having a little fondle at the hobbit's crotch. Unfortunately the hobbit had anticipated this and placed a fly electrocutor under his trousers, giving Saruman a hundred volt shock.
    Saruman grunted as he felt the pain. Immediately the hobbits started to bay for his blood, to bake in their crumpets, and his beard hair to make their beds.

    "A question." asked Frodo. "Where is Lotho."
    At that moment Grima stumbled out of the house, carrying the huge purse.
    "Oh I'm afraid Grima killed him. Buried him too, although he has been hungry lately."
    "You...you made me do it!" Grima yelled at him.
    "I did, you sorry sack of shite. You always do what Saruman tells you. Now follow, or face my wrath!"
    Saruman turned away, feeling good about himself, but suddenly Grima leapt upon him and shoved the Wizard of the Year trophy up Saruman's arse. He fell to the ground, his bladder and one kidney punctured, and died.

    Grima shrieked and ran but then hobbit bows twanged and he fell to the ground with six arrows in him.
    They stood there silently for a few seconds before Frodo rubbed his hand and said,
    "Tea anyone?" They all roared in agreement and rushed off towards the Green Dragon, leaving Saruman and Grima lying in the middle of the road.

    'End of Epic Flashback.'

    Sauron shook his head slowly.
    "You really do suck." he said to Saruman.
    "Yeah yeah, whatever. Go on laugh it up!"
    Sauron would've done but then the door flew open and Lex started laughing.
    "It's time Sauron, baby."
    "Time for what?"
    "Your trial. Are you guilty or not guilty?"


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 2: The Courtroom of Justice.

    Sauron was led down a corridor, through several doors that required security passes. Suddenly he found himself behind a queue of people lining up before the door. The guards restraining Sauron pushed through and Sauron asked one of them,
    "Who are these people?"
    "The jury." he replied. Sauron studied the people's faces. Suddenly he realised something.
    "Hang on....haven't I killed all of these people?"
    "Possibly." said the guard.

    Suddenly an angry looking elf stepped out of the line and stood in front of Sauron, holding a hammer.
    "Sauron." he said slowly. Sauron paled.
    "Um...hi Celimbrimbor...you don't have any bad feelings about that time I shoved your red hot poker up your-"
    Celimbrimbor smashed Sauron in the crotch with the claw hammer and then headbutted him.
    "Guards!" cried one of the escort people and two security members dragged Celimbrimbor away, screaming bloody murder at Sauron.
    Sauron gasped as he was dragged into the defendent's chair, one of his testicles had been hammered like a Ring of Power.

    The court was assembled. The jury was seated, minus Celimbrimbor, who was having anger management counselling at this point. Suddenly Eonwe, herald of the Valar, said,
    "All rise." And all stood as Manwe himself walked into the courtoom, wearing a wig and black robes. Sauron couldn't help cracking a joke,
    "Nice wig mate." Manwe stopped and turned towards Sauron.
    "Shut it, before I go all tornado on your ass!" he said, pointing at Sauron.
    "Like you do most nights with Varda?" leered Sauron.
    Manwe blushed and glanced at Varda, who was sitting in the gallery with other people.

    Manwe sat down and bashed a gavel on the table.
    "Ok...now, time to introduce the jury. One at a time could you please stand at say your names." He pointed at each one in turn and they stood to speak. Eight there were and they spoke the following,
    "Beren one-handed."
    "Finrod Felagund"
    "Gil-Galad"
    "Elendil"
    "Sean Bean"
    "Rick Astley"
    "Orc economist who got kicked out of a window."
    "Gary L"
    Manwe shifted some papers.
    "And the one person missing is-" He was cut off by a distant cry of, 'Sauron, you bastard!"
    "Celimbrimbor." He finished. "Now for the charges."

    Eonwe stood and said to Sauron.
    "You are hearby charged with several heinous crimes including: Genocide, conspiracy to commit genocide, liking the Sex Pistols, failing to pay a speeding fine, breaking several pollution laws, owning a charity shop without license and being a ."
    "Seems fair," muttered Sauron. Manwe motioned and one guard hit Sauron over the head with a baton, prompting cheers from the jury.
    "Order! Order! Order!" Manwe yelled, bashing his gavel. "Now, who will be representing the prosecution?"
    "That will be me...your honour." Gandalf stepped into the prosecution's area with many cheers.
    "And the defence?"
    A door creaked open and out of the shadows, wearing a wig atop his hood, came the Witch King.
    "That would be I, your honour." The Witch King bowed respectfully before slipping on a banana skin and falling to the ground.

    He quickly got up and roared,
    "Right! Who put that there?" Finrod stood up,
    "I did Jackhole, what are you gonna do about it!"
    "I'll sue you!"
    "For what!"
    "Being a dick!"
    "I didn't kill two thousand people!" Finrod roared, but then manwe summoned a tornado that lifted the Witch King into his seat
    "No arguing in court." Manwe said.

    Sauron suddenly stood up and said,
    "I have a problem with the jury, your honour."
    "Meaning?"
    "I've injured or killed all of them in the past. I think they might be biased."
    "You make a fair point." Manwe wrote on some papers quickly.
    "Aren't you going to do anything then?" asked Sauron.
    "Nope." Manwe replied.
    "What? Why?"
    "I'm Judge, you're not." Manwe motioned and another baton smacked Sauron's head, prompting more cheers.

    "I'm complaining to the Attorney General about this!" protested Sauron.
    "Guess who the Attorney General is." smiled Manwe.
    "Oh...." Sauron fell silent.
    "Yep." Manwe pointed at himself."Then I'll complain to your second in command!"
    Manwe pointed at Varda.
    "Bugger."

    Gandalf took the oppourtunity to speak up.
    "Your Honour, I request that the defence must pay a fine."
    "For?"
    "Showing up."
    "Fair enough, two thousand pound fine for showing up."
    The Witch cried out in rage,
    "That is hardly fair!"
    "Life isn't fair kid, now sit down and shut up." retorted Gandalf, prompting more cheers from the crowd, as the Witch King sat down, blushing beneath his hood.
    "OK. The prosecution may call it's first witness." Manwe said and Gandalf stood, preparing to call the witness to take the stand.


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 3: Case for the prosecution or 'Order in the Court!'

    "The prosecution calls the defendents mother to the stand." Gandalf said. The Witch King stood up and protested,
    "But she's dead, how could he-" suddenly he noticed Mandos waving at him and sat back down. Manwe nodded.
    "Very well. Tulkas, bring her in." Tulkas nodded and went outside. An awkward silence fell throughout the courtroom. Manwe broke the silence first.
    "Lovely weather we're having. Nice sunshine and all that." No one replied.

    Tulkas came back in escorting a very angry looking woman in a black shawl. Gandalf stood as she entered the witness box.
    "Witness. Your name and occupation."
    "I ain't buying nothing!" she screeched as Sauron buried his head in his hands. Gandalf looked confused.
    "No, I'm not trying to sell you anything I'm-"
    "Don't try that on me :wub:! I once let one of you lot in my house and I ended up shooting him with my blunderbuss." Gandalf looked very confused now.
    "No, Mrs Sauron I'm not a salesman."
    "Really?"
    "No."
    "You a Jeovah then? Trying to convert me?"
    "No, I'm not a Jeovah's Witness."
    "You have the beard."
    "That's racist!"

    The Witch King took the oppourtunity to yell,
    "Objection! Your honour, the prosecution is wasting the court's time!" Manwe nodded.
    "Agreed. Mr Mithrandir, if you don't mind controlling your witness."
    "Soory your honour. Anyway, witness. Describe your son to the court."
    "Son?" Mrs Sauron looked confused.
    "Sauron....the Dark Lord?" said Gandalf. Suddenly a strange look came over Mrs Sauron's face and she screeched out.
    "E's not the Dark Lord, e's a very naughty boy! Now Piss off!" and she leapt from the witness box and started to throttle Gandalf, who screamed,
    "AAAAAAAH! TULKAS! TULKAS YOU USELESS BASTARD GET THIS OFF OF ME!"

    Tulkas grabbed her but she fought back, punching him in the crotch and giving him a wedgie, before dragging him out of the courtoom. The whole room went silent as they heard several screams, punctuated by thumping sounds and, rather worringly, ripping sounds. Slowly the screams died down to sobs and Mrs Sauron re-entered the room, dusting her hands. Manwe looked like he was going to be sick, which probably would've caused a small storm to blow the courtoom apart. Gandalf broke the silence.
    "Witness....describe the type of music your son likes."
    "Ooooh...all this noisy crap about the Queen or Anarchy by some weirdo called....what was his name.....Vid Sicious?"
    "It was Sid Vicious mother!" cried Sauron and Gandalf immediately pointed his finger and yelled,
    "Ah HA! He just admitted it."
    "No I didn't!"
    "You implied it!"
    "You can't prove it!"
    "I can."
    "What? You didn't find my secret stash of Sex Pistols merchandise did you?"
    "AH HA! He just admitted that he had Sex Pistols merchandise!"

    Manwe interrupted.
    "Look hurry up will you! I've got a very important appointment this afternoon."
    "With Varda." muttered Sauron.
    "Right, don't make me throw the book at you!"
    "You won't. You'll be too busy spanking Varda with it."
    Manwe motioned three times and Sauron got smashed three times round the head.

    Gandalf continued.
    "Anyway. Witness, what was Sauron like as a child?"
    "Ooh, very strange. Kept playing with toy soldiers in a game he called 'Ethnic cleansing'."
    "So you see your honour, Sauron was violent from an early age." Manwe nodded, but the Witch King stood and said,
    "I object, your honour. Loads of kids play with their toys like that! Maybe he learned the words from school! It doesn't prove anything!"
    "No one plays ethnic cleansing with toys! They didn't in my day!"
    "Well I suppose there wasn't so much racism round in the days before Christ Old Man!"
    "Ladies....calm down." said Manwe.

    Gandalf continued,
    "Clearly his mother had a bad influence on Sauron. Mrs Sauron stared at him as he said it.
    "OI! I'll 'ave you know I raised 'im well ya bastard!"
    "Mrs Sauron, I'm warning you about swearing in court!"
    "I'm warning you that I'm gonna punch your ing lights out sunshine!"
    "He likes being punished mother. He enjoys being punished by Varda, late at night!"
    Manwe threw his gavel at Sauron, and hit him between the eyes. Suddenly all hell broke loose.

    The jury charged out of their box and grabbed Sauron and started brutally beating him. Rick Astley jumped up on Manwe's table and started singing 'Never gonna give you up!' Beren pulled out a belt with fittings on it, that went on the end of his wrist stump and chose a pirate style hook, with which he promptly sliced the Witch King and pulled him underneath the defence bench, where he brutally slashed him up.
    Sauron fought back, punching Finrod in the face, before stealing one of the guards tasers and shooting Sean Bean in the face with it. Mrs Sauron leapt from the witness box again and stabbed Gil-Galad in the chest with her bus pass, before strangling Elendil with her shawl.

    All the while Manwe screamed,
    "Order, order!" while writing sex texts to Varda, the kinky bastard.


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 4: Case for the defence and final Judgement.

    After a rather long recess, in which Tulkas was patched up, Rick Astley shot six times with a taser, the jury returned to their seats under armed supervision and Celimbrimbor also returned to his place in the jury, the trial recommenced. Oh and Mrs Sauron was shot with fifteen tranquilisers and dragged outside.
    "Right," said Manwe. "I think the defendent won't be causing anymore bother." Sauron was sitting in the chair bound and gagged, with his eyes covered with a hood.
    "Now. Onto the case for the defence. Mr Witch King, if you will..."

    The Witch King stood.
    "Of course your honour. The defence would like to call Mr. Roy to the stand." Roy was brought in and sat in the witness box. He stared around nervously as the Witch King began to probe him with questions.
    "Now Mr Roy, you know Sauron very well, so tell me about his character."
    "He's a bit of a dick."
    "Strike that from the record your honour." the Witch King said hastily.
    "He's a bully."
    "Strike that."
    "He doesn't pay taxes."
    "Strike."
    "He's a general :wub:."
    "Strike."

    "Objection!" Gandalf cried. "The defence is wasting the courts time."
    "Sustained." said Manwe.
    "No more questions your honour." said the Witch King, and sat down sweating. Gandalf stood and began to probe Roy.
    "Mr Roy....tell us about your involvement in the recent War."
    "Well honestly it was all Sauron and the Witch Ki-"
    "The Witness pleads the sixth your honour!" cried the Witch King.
    "He does?" said Manwe
    "He does?" said gandalf.
    "I do?" said Roy. "I mean...of course I do."
    "The sixth amendment 'The witness has the right not to testify if it incriminates his lawyer.'

    "Does this sixth amendment actually exist?" asked Manwe. "Check the books." Suddenly a firefighter rushed in screaming,
    "Lord Manwe! The Law library has mysteriosuly burned down in a fire!"
    Manwe grumbled as the firefighter left the room dejectedly.
    "Isn't that convenient." he muttered.
    "It is isn't it." sighed the Witch King. " Anyway, onto a more...reliable witness. Summon Abaranzah!"
    Abaranzah walekd in, no emotion beneath his hood.
    "Name and occupation." said the Witch King.
    "I live to serve my master."
    "Don't start this Abaranzah."
    "...Abaranzah, Nazgul."

    " So Mr Abaranzah," said Gandalf. "Tell me about Sauron."
    " He is my Master. I serve him. There is nothing more to add."
    "Your honour, the witness is being uncooperative! Speak witness. Do anything, sing Frank bloody Sinatra if you want!" Suddenly Abaranzah's eyes lit up and he jumped atop the Witness stand and started singing,
    "Come fly with me, lets fly let's fly awaaaaay!" Manwe slumped onto his desk with a sigh.
    "ENOUGH OF THE SINGING!" said Gandalf. "Now-"
    "OBJECTION!" the Witch King roared. "Your honour Gandalf is breaching this Nazgul's Human Rights, by not allowing him to sing! Arrest him!"
    "He's right." muttered Manwe. "Tulkas, arrest that man!"
    "What! I just told him to stop singing! Unhand me! Stop! Stoooooooooop!"

    The Witch King pressed his advantage.
    "Without a prosecutor this trial has to reach a verdict now, or Sauron goes free!"
    Manwe scratched his chin.
    "True. Very well then. Jury, make up your mind now." The jury conversed for about five seocnds before Gil-Galad stood up. Eonwe asked,
    "Have you reached a verdict?"
    "We have."
    "Do you find the defendent guilty or not guilty on charges of Genocide."
    "Guilty."
    "Do you find the defendent guilty on charges of conspiracy to commit genocide."
    "Guilty."
    "Do you find the defendent guilty or not guilty on charges of liking the Sex pistols.
    "ing guilty."
    "Do you find the defednent guilty or not guilty on charegs of failing to pay a speeding fine?"
    "Not guilty, because it was a Traffic Warden bastard."
    "Do you find the defendent guilty or not guilty of owning an illegal charity chop?"
    "Not guilty."
    "Do you find the defendent guilty or not guilty on charges of being a ?"
    "Triple guilty with a cherry on top."

    "You are to be taken hence, and put to death tommorow at dawn." Manwe said gravely. But the Witch King screamed,
    "OBJECTION! YOU HAVE A SMALL PENIS MANWE!"
    "Sustained." said Manwe without realising what he had just sustained. Suddenly he realised.
    "No, no, no, no, no, no! Overruled!"
    "No, you are in charge! Only your boss can overrule it now! Oh wait, he can't because you are the top man! Therefore you just admitted that you are small!" Manwe realised that a techincallity was going to get him found guilty of having a small penis.
    "RIGHT! Guards! Arrest him and put him to death as well, as well as all of his cronies!"
    The other Nazgul were dragged form their seats and pulled from the courtroom, protesting as they went.

    When everyone left Manwe looked up to Eru and said,
    "Bossman. Can you overrule my judgement that i have a small penis." and Eru answered.
    "Manwe my son. You don't have to be ashamed of it. There are pills for that kind of abnormality."
    "You aren't helping!" yelled Manwe.
    "You should stop yelling!"
    "I'm not yelling!" yelled Manwe.
    "Your yelling like Varda did last night."
    "You saw that!"
    "I see all. It's free pornography, and even God needs to let off steam sometimes."

    Manwe was silent.
    "So um....how do you think I did last night?"
    "Judging by the screams, rather well."
    "I feel embarrased talking about this."
    "You should. Your on camera!"
    "WHAT!"
    "That's right! My youtube account is gonna get so many subscribers with this. Ciao!"
    And Manwe was silent as Eru left his mind to post on his channel.


    Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

    Chapter 5: Always look on the Dark side of life and Epilogue.

    The Nazgul and Sauron were thrown into the cell and the door closed behind them. Roy immediately bashed on the door and yelled,
    "You will never take us all! One day our descendents shall have their revenge!" Khamul interrupted him.
    "Roy, stop being cliched and sit down." Roy sat down.

    Sauron glared at Roy.
    "I blame you for this."
    "Why?"
    "You screwed up our case!"
    "Well I couldn't help but tell the truth!"
    "Why?"
    "I swore on the Bible."
    "It's a formality, you don't actually tell the truth!"
    "Well how was I supposed to know?"
    "Did you read your 'newcomer to Evil' pamphlet that i gave you?"
    "It was six thousand years ago!"
    "You should have remembered!"
    "What am I, ing Wikipedia!" raored Roy.

    Lex stepped out of the shadows.
    "Whoah, Sauron, baby, who are all these people."
    "My defence team." said Sauron dryly.
    "So you lost the trial?"
    "Phoenix Wright over there ed it up." said Sauron pointing at the Witch King.
    "How did I screw it up? You were the one goading the Judge! And you shot a jury member in the face!"
    "Well....who wouldn't?"
    "I don't know, maybe someone on charges of genocide?" said the Witch King sarcastically.
    "I'm going to stick that sarcasm right up your-"

    Lex grabbed Sauron and pulled over to another part of the cell.
    "Look, Sauron, you should stop yelling at your minions. You're turing into Morgoth."
    "But they are incompetant fools!"
    "So were we during the First Age."
    "Yeah but-"
    "Sauron. I'll make it better." Suddenly Lex's face seemed to change slightly.
    "Um....Lex? Why has your face turned into Eric Idle's face?"
    "Simple." and the fateful words began.

    "Some things in life are bad, they can really make you mad,
    other things just make you swear and curse.
    When thinsg aren't going to plan, kill and elf, or kill a man.
    And that'll help things turn out even worse.
    Aaaaaaaand" Sauron buried his face in his hands.

    "Always look on the dark side of life,(Insert whistle here)
    Always look on the dark side of life." the Nazgul started to sing 'ooo,oooo, oooo,oooo' as a harmony.

    "If life ain't jolly rotten, there's something you've forgotten,
    and that's to rape and pillage and kill and sin.
    When your feeling in the dumps, don't be silly chumps,
    Just kill 'em all and whistle, that's the thing.
    And"

    "Always look on the dark side of life,
    Always look on the dark side of life."
    "Come on everyone" Lex called out.

    For Hobbits are quite absurd, and to Gandalf 'mum's the word'
    He likes to stick his penis in a cow.
    Forget about your sin, 'cause Gandalf's will make you cringe,
    Don't worry e's in prison anyhow!
    And"

    "Always look on the dark side of death,
    Make those damned elves draw their terminal breath."

    "Galadrial's a , and Elrond is a snitch,
    Hope they barf and then they choke we do.
    Go to Lorien alone, keep on killing as you go
    Just remember that the last detah is on yooooou
    And" everyone joined in, even Sauron.

    "Always look on the dark side of life,
    Always look on the dark side of life."

    "ALWAYS LOOK ON THE DARK SIDE OF LIFE,
    ALWAYS LOOK ON THE DARK SIDE OF LIFE"

    Camera slowly fades to static, re-emerging on Morgan Freeman sitting on a chair.
    "And so, at the 11th hour, Sauron servant of Morgoth, was tied to a chair and machine-gunned to death. Apparently the jury took part in the execution, although Celimbrimbor was chastised for wasting ammo when he fired a full magazine into Sauron's nutsack. So Sauron's plots were bought to an untimely end, as he face the grisly fate that so many before him had faced. This speech is dedicated to his bravery in the face of execution, read by me, Moragn Freeman."

    Suddenly he was knocked off of his chair by the street cleaner, who screamed into the camera,
    "You believe this motherer? Huh? This man, is not a representation of black culture! He's just a mothering son of a mothering-"
    Morgan Freeman stood up, dusted down his suit, before blowing the street cleaner away with a double barrelled shotgun. He turned to the camera and said,
    "Goodnight. Goodnight."
    Last edited by Lortano; July 20, 2012 at 04:30 PM.

  6. #6
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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Chapter 3: Also removed to first post.
    Last edited by Lortano; July 06, 2012 at 12:07 PM.

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    Aldor's Avatar Campidoctor
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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Good read, well in my opinion. Not offending and humorous.

    Poceed.

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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Quote Originally Posted by Aldor View Post
    Good read, well in my opinion. Not offending and humorous.

    Poceed.
    Cheers mate. I tend to be hard on myself when I write stuff so it's always nice to see people being nice about my work.

  9. #9
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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Great update again. Keep it up!

    Lines I particularly like:
    Quote Originally Posted by Lortano View Post
    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

    "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?"

    "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

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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    one of the most funny lines I have ever read... not only in this AAR/Fan Fiction thread... in my life...

    great work...

    +rep

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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Chapter 4: Yet again removed to first post.
    Last edited by Lortano; July 06, 2012 at 12:07 PM.

  12. #12
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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Quote Originally Posted by Lortano View Post
    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.


    For thy spelling checker is better than wine:
    Some spelling errors and typo's.
    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 voice-overs 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 evilly at the joke. Voice-overs were fun. If he hadn't become a Dark Lord of Evil he probably would have 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 commissioned 'The Only Way is Essex.'

    Anyway, back to the Nazgul and their quest. They had rested themselves after the night 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 bad-ass 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 nearby 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 scampering 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 bad-ass 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 bad-ass 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 ranger 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 deodorant bottle, which promptly exploded, sending the Witch King over the edge and caused him to land directly on to Copernicus, who was lying 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, ."

  13. #13
    Aldor's Avatar Campidoctor
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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    http://spellcheckplus.com/

    Not meant as an advertisement. If someone else uses a better one, please PM me/post below.

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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Quote Originally Posted by Aldor View Post
    http://spellcheckplus.com/

    Not meant as an advertisement. If someone else uses a better one, please PM me/post below.
    Thanks for that, I'll go over my spellings and grammer a little bit more next time, which convieniently is coming up now!

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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Chapter 5: You guessed it!
    Last edited by Lortano; July 06, 2012 at 12:08 PM.

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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Will look forward to it .

  17. #17

    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Sauron as a thoroughly frustrated CEO or dictator, I am not sure which yet but enjoyed it all too hell. I find myself feeling slightly sorry for the Dark Lord.

    +rep

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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Quote Originally Posted by muller227 View Post
    Sauron as a thoroughly frustrated CEO or dictator, I am not sure which yet but enjoyed it all too hell. I find myself feeling slightly sorry for the Dark Lord.

    +rep
    You'll be giving him charity by the time this ends I can assure you.

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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Book 2:

    Chapter 1: First Post
    Last edited by Lortano; July 06, 2012 at 12:09 PM.

  20. #20
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    Default Re: Sauron's miseries (A humourous take on the Fellowship campaign and of the films.)

    Since I can't give you any reputation currently, let's do it the old-fashioned way:

    Nice update and I'll keep following book 2!

    Some said he was a god. Others said he was from the future. Some said he came from a mysterious place known as Sheffield. All we know is that he is called The Stig. (Well Boromir actually.)

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