Hello! I'm pretty new here, and this is my first fanfiction. Please read it
and tell me what you think. I will carry on with it if I get positive
reviews.
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The Importance of Being Evil
In a tower in Middle-Earth there lived a wizard. Not a watch tower, nor yet a spiked and evil-looking tower such as one might find in the darkest depths of Mordor. This was a wizard tower, and that means piles of teetering, ancient books, many magical looking (and probably quite useless) items, including a crystal ball-like object and a piece of bent wood, and also a terrible amount of rubbish on the floor. (Wizards are notorious for being awful at clearing up).
The wizard who lived in this particular tower was called Saruman, and he had a problem, which was this: Saruman desperately wanted to be evil. All the cool people who had books written about them were evil; the goody- goodies didn't get a look in. Saruman, for the last two millennia or so, had had his heart set on becoming evil. And he wasn't. Not even a little bit.
He didn't know what he was doing wrong. He'd tried so hard. He'd read books, done experiments, even been to evening classes. He had attempted to raise an army of orcs, but they had spent most of the time getting drunk and, if the truth be told, he had been rather scared of them anyway. Once he had taken a hostage, whom he had cleverly and evilly imprisoned on the top of his tower. The hostage had been another wizard (Gandalf was his name), and he had escaped by flinging himself of the top of Saruman's tower onto the back of a passing eagle. Saruman was of the opinion that this sort of behaviour was cheating and hadn't talked to Gandalf for months afterwards.
All of his spells went wrong; all the evil ones, anyway. When he tried to set things on fire, they invariably turned a rather nice shade of pale blue instead. When he tried to turn people into frogs or toads, the spells rebounded and often turned him into a frog or a toad instead (on one unpleasant occasion he had spent three weeks hopping round his front garden before he was found by Radagast the Brown and turned back.) And the last time he had tried to summon an avalanche to bury a party of travellers who were walking up a mountain he had only succeeded in showering them with icing sugar.
One evening Saruman was sitting by the fire, amid the mess, and reading a book ('The Importance of Being Evil' by M. Melkor), when his telephone rang. He picked it up.
"Saruman of many colours, your resident evil wizard, speaking."
"Hello Saruman, this is Gandalf. Your not still pretending to be evil, are you?"
"What do you mean, pretending? There will come a time when all the peoples of Middle Earth will fall down before me, and worship me, the unquestionable lord and master of..."
"Yeah, whatever. Look, I'm going to be in the area tomorrow and I was thinking of popping over for some tea. Is that alright with you?"
"I thought you were still a bit upset after..."
"After all that business with you taking me hostage, and my escaping by an ingenious feat of cool logic and quick thinking, plus my inexplicable ability to communicate with moths?"
"Yes, that," replied Saruman coldly. The memory was still painful.
"Well, you needn't worry about that. It's all in the past."
"Very well, Gandalf, what time can I expect you?"
"Around 4-ish?"
"See you then."
At 4 o' clock the next day Saruman's doorbell rang. He let Gandalf in.
"Greetings, Saruman!" said Gandalf, "Why on Middle-Earth have you tie-dyed your robes?"
"They're not tie-dyed!" replied Saruman angrily. "Only the very evil beings wear robes like this. They have been specially designed to inspire terror."
"Well, they certainly scared me."
Gandalf followed Saruman through the hall into the sitting-room, where Saruman cut him a slice of cake, and poured out some tea. They sat down.
"So, Gandalf," said Saruman, "What have you been doing with yourself lately?"
"Well, you know..." answered Gandalf, "Not a lot, really. Spending a lot of time in the Shire, which is very nice. Going on a quest here, saving the world there, and occasionally battling fiery sword-wielding winged demons of the underworld. But only in my spare time. What about you?"
"I have been formulating my evil schemes, of course."
"Which are...?"
"I haven't really got round to the details yet. I've been a bit busy with my charity work."
Gandalf sighed and shook his head.
"You don't have the foggiest idea about being evil, do you?" he said, irritated, "Even I know more about it than you do, and I am, by appointment of the Valar, one of the least evil beings in the history of Middle-Earth."
"What do you mean?"
"Evil wizards do not do charity work. They do not go around in lilac and orange striped robes, they do not have people dropping in for tea, and they most certainly do not have daffodils and tulips growing around their towers." Gandalf gestured out of the window at Saruman's front garden, where brightly coloured beds of flowers were growing. There was also an ornamental pond surrounded by several garden gnomes.
"Oh, okay then, if you're so knowledgeable about evilness, you can teach me," said Saruman moodily.
"I'm not going to teach you myself - but I can give you the number of someone who will. I've got it here somewhere..." Gandalf reached into his pocket and took out a handful of business cards. He leafed through them. "Galadriel's clairvoyance lessons...that's not it...Legolas' archery class...that's not it either...what's this? Oh, Tom Bombadil and Goldberry giving a joint seminar on how to get left out of major epic films - must get to that. Now what was I doing again? Ah, yes, I remember. Oh, here it is." He passed a small flame-red card over to Saruman, who read:
"Tired of your high reputation? Want to get a place in the history books? Then call Sauron, on 0800-666-EVIL and sign up for his acclaimed, patented courses in losing your status as a do-gooder. All races accepted: Elves, Dwarves, Men, Orcs, Ents, Hobbits, even Ainur. Address: The Dark Tower, Barad-Dur, Mordor." Saruman looked up. "Well, maybe I'll try this, then," he said to Gandalf, "This Sauron - I haven't come across him before - has he a reputation for evilness?"
"Oh yes. In fact, he is singularly responsible for almost all of the things that have gone wrong in Middle-Earth over the past two ages."
"Then he definitely sounds like the sort of person that I want to learn how to be evil from. I'll give him a ring."
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The Importance of Being Evil
In a tower in Middle-Earth there lived a wizard. Not a watch tower, nor yet a spiked and evil-looking tower such as one might find in the darkest depths of Mordor. This was a wizard tower, and that means piles of teetering, ancient books, many magical looking (and probably quite useless) items, including a crystal ball-like object and a piece of bent wood, and also a terrible amount of rubbish on the floor. (Wizards are notorious for being awful at clearing up).
The wizard who lived in this particular tower was called Saruman, and he had a problem, which was this: Saruman desperately wanted to be evil. All the cool people who had books written about them were evil; the goody- goodies didn't get a look in. Saruman, for the last two millennia or so, had had his heart set on becoming evil. And he wasn't. Not even a little bit.
He didn't know what he was doing wrong. He'd tried so hard. He'd read books, done experiments, even been to evening classes. He had attempted to raise an army of orcs, but they had spent most of the time getting drunk and, if the truth be told, he had been rather scared of them anyway. Once he had taken a hostage, whom he had cleverly and evilly imprisoned on the top of his tower. The hostage had been another wizard (Gandalf was his name), and he had escaped by flinging himself of the top of Saruman's tower onto the back of a passing eagle. Saruman was of the opinion that this sort of behaviour was cheating and hadn't talked to Gandalf for months afterwards.
All of his spells went wrong; all the evil ones, anyway. When he tried to set things on fire, they invariably turned a rather nice shade of pale blue instead. When he tried to turn people into frogs or toads, the spells rebounded and often turned him into a frog or a toad instead (on one unpleasant occasion he had spent three weeks hopping round his front garden before he was found by Radagast the Brown and turned back.) And the last time he had tried to summon an avalanche to bury a party of travellers who were walking up a mountain he had only succeeded in showering them with icing sugar.
One evening Saruman was sitting by the fire, amid the mess, and reading a book ('The Importance of Being Evil' by M. Melkor), when his telephone rang. He picked it up.
"Saruman of many colours, your resident evil wizard, speaking."
"Hello Saruman, this is Gandalf. Your not still pretending to be evil, are you?"
"What do you mean, pretending? There will come a time when all the peoples of Middle Earth will fall down before me, and worship me, the unquestionable lord and master of..."
"Yeah, whatever. Look, I'm going to be in the area tomorrow and I was thinking of popping over for some tea. Is that alright with you?"
"I thought you were still a bit upset after..."
"After all that business with you taking me hostage, and my escaping by an ingenious feat of cool logic and quick thinking, plus my inexplicable ability to communicate with moths?"
"Yes, that," replied Saruman coldly. The memory was still painful.
"Well, you needn't worry about that. It's all in the past."
"Very well, Gandalf, what time can I expect you?"
"Around 4-ish?"
"See you then."
At 4 o' clock the next day Saruman's doorbell rang. He let Gandalf in.
"Greetings, Saruman!" said Gandalf, "Why on Middle-Earth have you tie-dyed your robes?"
"They're not tie-dyed!" replied Saruman angrily. "Only the very evil beings wear robes like this. They have been specially designed to inspire terror."
"Well, they certainly scared me."
Gandalf followed Saruman through the hall into the sitting-room, where Saruman cut him a slice of cake, and poured out some tea. They sat down.
"So, Gandalf," said Saruman, "What have you been doing with yourself lately?"
"Well, you know..." answered Gandalf, "Not a lot, really. Spending a lot of time in the Shire, which is very nice. Going on a quest here, saving the world there, and occasionally battling fiery sword-wielding winged demons of the underworld. But only in my spare time. What about you?"
"I have been formulating my evil schemes, of course."
"Which are...?"
"I haven't really got round to the details yet. I've been a bit busy with my charity work."
Gandalf sighed and shook his head.
"You don't have the foggiest idea about being evil, do you?" he said, irritated, "Even I know more about it than you do, and I am, by appointment of the Valar, one of the least evil beings in the history of Middle-Earth."
"What do you mean?"
"Evil wizards do not do charity work. They do not go around in lilac and orange striped robes, they do not have people dropping in for tea, and they most certainly do not have daffodils and tulips growing around their towers." Gandalf gestured out of the window at Saruman's front garden, where brightly coloured beds of flowers were growing. There was also an ornamental pond surrounded by several garden gnomes.
"Oh, okay then, if you're so knowledgeable about evilness, you can teach me," said Saruman moodily.
"I'm not going to teach you myself - but I can give you the number of someone who will. I've got it here somewhere..." Gandalf reached into his pocket and took out a handful of business cards. He leafed through them. "Galadriel's clairvoyance lessons...that's not it...Legolas' archery class...that's not it either...what's this? Oh, Tom Bombadil and Goldberry giving a joint seminar on how to get left out of major epic films - must get to that. Now what was I doing again? Ah, yes, I remember. Oh, here it is." He passed a small flame-red card over to Saruman, who read:
"Tired of your high reputation? Want to get a place in the history books? Then call Sauron, on 0800-666-EVIL and sign up for his acclaimed, patented courses in losing your status as a do-gooder. All races accepted: Elves, Dwarves, Men, Orcs, Ents, Hobbits, even Ainur. Address: The Dark Tower, Barad-Dur, Mordor." Saruman looked up. "Well, maybe I'll try this, then," he said to Gandalf, "This Sauron - I haven't come across him before - has he a reputation for evilness?"
"Oh yes. In fact, he is singularly responsible for almost all of the things that have gone wrong in Middle-Earth over the past two ages."
"Then he definitely sounds like the sort of person that I want to learn how to be evil from. I'll give him a ring."