The two orcs scrambled in, eager to find out what they had to do. 'What is it, master.' One grunted. 'What does the eye command?'
Saruman hummed to himself, curling his beard around his finger. He could not be bothered to work today. It was Sunday! Surely that could be a day of rest...
'He commands you...' He said, pointing to the second Orc. 'He commands you to... jump out of the tower.'
The Orc looked shocked. 'A-a-anything... the eye... co-commands....' It stuttered, and then made towards the window. It looked at his partner in woe, and then jumped. Saruman heard the cracks as the foul, once Elven beast hit the Orthanc walls.
'And you...' He said, pointing with his staff. 'He commands you... to get jiggy with it.'
The Orc shrugged and fitted on a ginger afro wig. It put it's hand on it's hip and pointed to the sky, and then moved his pointing arm back and forth from it's current position through the loop the other arm made. Saruman laughed aloud and clapped his elderly hands together. 'Brilliant!' He shouted. 'Get me more orc's!'
-One-hour later-
Several orc's now crammed themselves into the small study of the Orthanc. Saruman was sat on his throne with, before him, the afro Orc break dancing and an Orc in a jesters outfit telling very poor jokes which mainly consisted of the same 'Knock Knock' joke being repeated with the names of Orc's he knew replacing the original answer of 'Sauron'.
'What is it, oh master?' The new bunch said in unity. 'What does the eye command?'
'He comands you to offend a Nazgûl!' Saruman said, pointing to an orc neer the door. It made a gesture of recognision and waddled outside.
-Outside-
A Nazgúl sat proud on it's steed. For no reason was it there, aside from bunking off like Saruman. The orc came from the great black doors, hobbled down the stairs and stood beside the Nazgúl. It's horse cried wickedly and the figure slowly turned round to the orc.
'Uh...' grumbled the orc. 'Uh... you... smell.'
The steed let out another cry and turned to face the smelly creature.
'Uh... yeah... and you'd probably have spots... if you had skin.'
The Nazgúl dismounted.
'And...' The orc whimpered, backing away from the advancing black rider. 'You... you... you have bad taste in cloaks...'
The Nazgúl stopped and turned his head in queerie.
'I meen... the shaddow of darkness look is kind of... old, don't you think?'
The once-king looked at his robes, and then pulled out his blade and made for the creature.
-Saruman's Study-
Saruman of many colors was now crying with laugher. He turned to the six orcs that remained and rubbed his chin.
'What a task should I give you...' He asked himself. 'AHA!'
Saruman seemed to grow tall and a shadow cast over his face.
'Bring me... Elton John!'
The orcs stood back in fear. 'M-master...' One said, sweating drastically more than before. 'Are you sure... you wouldn't like us to get the Hobbit with the ring? I mean... he is just outside, waving it at you and sticking his tongue out.'
'Oh, nay! I'll wait for the Nazgúl to drive HIM away.'
From outside was the faint sound of another Hobbit shouting 'Mister Frodo, sir! Run!' and the gallops of horses. Saruman cackled.
'Nay... I want Elton John here... NOW!'
The orcs looked at each other. The Orc with the fake afro stopped dancing and shivered. The jester was allready missing, and a patch of burnt ash and a three-pointed hat was where he stood. They knew no other means of escape, and so they dived, one by one, out the window. Saruman leaned back on his throne and hummed.
'I wish I had a Balrog.' He thought.
Saruman hummed to himself, curling his beard around his finger. He could not be bothered to work today. It was Sunday! Surely that could be a day of rest...
'He commands you...' He said, pointing to the second Orc. 'He commands you to... jump out of the tower.'
The Orc looked shocked. 'A-a-anything... the eye... co-commands....' It stuttered, and then made towards the window. It looked at his partner in woe, and then jumped. Saruman heard the cracks as the foul, once Elven beast hit the Orthanc walls.
'And you...' He said, pointing with his staff. 'He commands you... to get jiggy with it.'
The Orc shrugged and fitted on a ginger afro wig. It put it's hand on it's hip and pointed to the sky, and then moved his pointing arm back and forth from it's current position through the loop the other arm made. Saruman laughed aloud and clapped his elderly hands together. 'Brilliant!' He shouted. 'Get me more orc's!'
-One-hour later-
Several orc's now crammed themselves into the small study of the Orthanc. Saruman was sat on his throne with, before him, the afro Orc break dancing and an Orc in a jesters outfit telling very poor jokes which mainly consisted of the same 'Knock Knock' joke being repeated with the names of Orc's he knew replacing the original answer of 'Sauron'.
'What is it, oh master?' The new bunch said in unity. 'What does the eye command?'
'He comands you to offend a Nazgûl!' Saruman said, pointing to an orc neer the door. It made a gesture of recognision and waddled outside.
-Outside-
A Nazgúl sat proud on it's steed. For no reason was it there, aside from bunking off like Saruman. The orc came from the great black doors, hobbled down the stairs and stood beside the Nazgúl. It's horse cried wickedly and the figure slowly turned round to the orc.
'Uh...' grumbled the orc. 'Uh... you... smell.'
The steed let out another cry and turned to face the smelly creature.
'Uh... yeah... and you'd probably have spots... if you had skin.'
The Nazgúl dismounted.
'And...' The orc whimpered, backing away from the advancing black rider. 'You... you... you have bad taste in cloaks...'
The Nazgúl stopped and turned his head in queerie.
'I meen... the shaddow of darkness look is kind of... old, don't you think?'
The once-king looked at his robes, and then pulled out his blade and made for the creature.
-Saruman's Study-
Saruman of many colors was now crying with laugher. He turned to the six orcs that remained and rubbed his chin.
'What a task should I give you...' He asked himself. 'AHA!'
Saruman seemed to grow tall and a shadow cast over his face.
'Bring me... Elton John!'
The orcs stood back in fear. 'M-master...' One said, sweating drastically more than before. 'Are you sure... you wouldn't like us to get the Hobbit with the ring? I mean... he is just outside, waving it at you and sticking his tongue out.'
'Oh, nay! I'll wait for the Nazgúl to drive HIM away.'
From outside was the faint sound of another Hobbit shouting 'Mister Frodo, sir! Run!' and the gallops of horses. Saruman cackled.
'Nay... I want Elton John here... NOW!'
The orcs looked at each other. The Orc with the fake afro stopped dancing and shivered. The jester was allready missing, and a patch of burnt ash and a three-pointed hat was where he stood. They knew no other means of escape, and so they dived, one by one, out the window. Saruman leaned back on his throne and hummed.
'I wish I had a Balrog.' He thought.