A/N: I really had no idea where this was going when I wrote it, but I hope you enjoy it. Btw, you don't have to understand the Star Wars Extended Universe for this story. Just know I don't like this certain character.

Disclaimer: I own nothing pertaining to LotR and SW

Melkor Help Us All

The forest was black, the moon was shadowed–everything looked the way it should have been. But something didn't smell right. The taste, the cloying scent of evil–it was not there. It was only evil in appearance.

I gathered I was not in Mirkwood. It didn't feel like Mirkwood and the trees sported oblong pine needles and boughs which bowed low to the ground. Here and there lay a small, yellow weed. Grass was sparse and the ground was soft and mushy.

My fortress of Dol Gûldor was nowhere in my line of sight, as was my Orc soldiers/slaves. Odd. Very odd.

The best thing I could do was search out my new territory. The plants and trees didn't look familiar to me, and I had immense knowledge of many living things on Arda. This gave me the conclusion I was not on Arda at all.

The air was humid. I failed to notice the heat. Since the destruction of my body during the time Eru destroyed Numenor, I had had a viry limited range of shapes I could shift into. The most popular form I wore now was black, hideous, and manlike. My body temperature was hot enough to melt thin metal.

I gathered the jungle was hot from the panting avians, and the sharp fanged predators laying in pools of their own sweat.

The fauna consisted of insects, birds, and small creatures whech resembled rodents. I was glad to see familiar wolf-like carnivores, having a fascination with wolves. Werewolves in particular.

I noticed with some fascination that the trees were emitting a sticky black residue, which I constructed the hypothesis it was used for the trees' defense.

To test my hypothesis, I touched the tree with a black clawed finger, allowing the goo to run over it. I felt only very minor pain and the tip of my finger became dark blue instead of black. Curious.

I waited for more symptoms to occur. I had a healing spell in me mind, and if something was off-key in my hideous midnight black body, I would simply chant the healing spell, drawing life out to myself, but this time, I was hesitant to do so. My morbid curiosity was driving out my hatred and fear of this place. Not that I loved it.

The black goo from the tree seeped into barely perceptible cracks in my finger, creeping lazily into my boiling hot blood stream and veins.

Suddenly I saw my worst fears laid out before my eyes. The cause of which, I blamed the tree. So. The black secretion was a hallucinogenic. Very interesting. However, the sight of my precious Ring, which had been lost, and seeing it being thrown into Orodruin was enough to cause fear and wrath to blaze up to choke me.

I coldly detached the feelings from myself, initiating a practical separation from unwanted emotions.

It wasn't logical at all since the Ring was still lost in the Anduin and I was not in Mordor.

I chanted the healing spell in my mind, being powerful enough to do so without using vocal cords.

The ooze instantly retreated from my bloodstream and immediately I felt life and energy flow into me, into my boiling black bloodstream, into my mind, removing the disturbing hallucinations. Good.

I was relatively sorry (not really) to see everything die around me, the black oblong needles of the trees drifting off, dead and shrivelled. But it could not be helped. By staying alive Death followed in my footsteps.

I journeyed through the jungle terrain, keeping both eyes out for large, serpentine roots in my path.

I stopped when I had walked 10.7 miles. Someone was talking in a melodious tongue which was definitely not Elvish. Good.

I waved an arm, felt the vibrant life and power in the air, and suddenly I understood the man's words.

"With sorrow I die!"

I cocked a brow, and I felt a malicious smile spread on my face. I morbidly hoped a bloody fight was breaking out, or a young maiden was watching her love be killed. Perhaps if this was so, I could enjoy watching the young woman kill herself frem her foolish, grieving, heart.

I stepped out into the open and was surprised by what I saw. Instead of two men or lovers, there stood a blue skinned, red eyed creature. He was manlike and remarkably attractive. Thus, I assumed he was not an Orc.

He shook his head slowly.

"No good. Hmm." Then his red eyes lit up.

"O happy to be dead! No. Not good enough."

I was amused to see his was practicing saying his last words. Whoever he was.

I decided to speak up.

"Have you ever tried, 'But…it was so artfully done'?"

The manlike being looked at me and his face held a mixture of curiosity and wariness in it. He didn't fear me. Interesting. Normally all creatures fear and hate me with a passion.

"Who are you? What are you?" he asked, glowing red eyes wide.

"I am Sauron the Great, Lord of Arda. I am a Maia. Formerly I served under the Vala Melkor," I introduced myself, taking a lordly stance over him, darkness flowing from me.

"Greetings, Lord Sauron," the stranger said, bowing low to the ground from the waist. "I am Mitth'raw'nuruodo, ex-Syndic to the House of Nuruodo on the Chiss planet of Csilla."

So went our introductions to each other. I told him I had been translocated somehow to this planet, and that I was trying to find a way back into the portal which bridged Mirkwood to Thrawn's planet. Thrawn, by the way, is the man's corename. Mtth'raw'nuruodo. Perceive?

Needless to say, I didn't particularly mind his company at the first. But he reminded me too much of a Legolas Greenleaf and Melkor combination.

He was so perfect, so brilliant–and he knew it. Also, he was disgustingly handsome with flawless sapphire skin, ruby red eyes, and glossy blue-black hair which fell in waves down his back.

Not to mention the fact he did everything with effortless precision. I had run into the occasional horrific Mary Sues in my past, and this fellow was a Gary Stu.

I decided to tell him I was a mastercraftsman and was interested in art. It proved to be one of my worst mistakes ever.

I was horrified to see his red eyes light up, his perfectly sculpted blue-black eyebrows draw up, the perfect image of polite surprise on his face. Then he must have seen how much emotion he was portraying and withdrew in his normal, cold, sickening self.

"Continue," he said in his civilized, cold, flawless, cultured voice.

"I would rather not say," I told him, my skin crawling and my ugly nose just beginning to itch. I had known I was allergic to Mary Sues, and was unhappy to see it was the same with Gary Stus.

He this as an opening to say how art was a window to other species blah-blah-blah. He also mentioned how he wanted to be a Grand Admiral someday and have all sorts of art holos (whatever holos consist of) to be used against the psychology of certain species.

I sneezed mightily, smoke trickling from my nostrils. Thunder rumbled ominously in the distance. Plants and animals in the vicinity withered and died. To my uttermost disappointment, I didn't have the pleasure of seeing Thrawn withering away and turning into ash.

"Fascinating," he said as though it was an everyday occurance for evil Maias to pop out of virtually nowhere and blast everything in sight by a mere sneeze. "Are there others of your species around?"

I gave him a death glare.

"I am Master of Darkness. I do not belong in a genus or special class in zoology!" I said in a low, sinister voice.

"My sincere pardon," the Chiss said and bowed low.

I appreciated the way he was treating me, but at the same time, my black, hard, rock like skin crawled at the flawless tone in his voice.

He brushed a hand absentmindedly through his glossy, shiny, blue black hair, his facial expression only slightly filled with fear.

Then he proceeded to erect a shelter from the approaching rainstorm.

There we stayed for five hours (I don't know how I survived) as rain dripped down the thatched roof in torrents.

"If my bodyguard assassinates me, I will be ready for my return by cloning myself. Thus assuring my goal of galactic domination," he said after taking small, polite bites of the scaly bird he had cooked.

Melkor help us all, I thought as I realized what this would mean. I could see the headlines: GARY STU TAKES OVER UNIVERSE! ART LOVERS GAlORE! THRAWN FOUND TO BE SMARTER THAN ERU!

In an uncharacteristic show of mercy, I decided to kill Thrawn, thus ridding the galaxy of one less Gary Stu. I couldn't stand him anymore.

I lowered my sweltering hot hand, ready to wrap it around his scrawny blue neck and kill him from my body heat as I had that Elf king, Gil-Galad right before Isildur had rudely chopped the Ring off my finger.

I hated Thrawn more than I had ever hated anything before, and a malicious, wild glint entered my blazing eyes. I wanted to see him die slowly, and die painfully.

But at that moment, before my hot hand touched his skin, a whirlwind caught me up and hurtled me through space and time through the Void.

I was glad to be back in Mirkwood with familiar, smelly, malicious, ugly Orcs at my beck and call.

But I felt anger that I hadn't had the chance to destroy Mr. Perfection incarnate.

I can only hope we never cross paths again.

The End