Disclaimer: The characters described herein belong entirely to Tolkien, no matter how ridiculously fanon I make them. They are not mine. Ah well.
Authors Note: This is a follow-up to my series "Cooking (Sinisterly) with Saruman!" The link to that story can be found on my profile page in case you're wondering what the bloody hell Radagast is doing in Orthanc with Saruman, and why there are things called "Legolas Sex Slaves" in this fic. This is a humor piece entirely, all written in good fun. I see Saruman and Radagast as the Middle-earth equivalent of "The Odd Couple", so I imagine a lot of hilarity to ensue.
Warning: I insinuate slash relationships, but I don't follow through with it in any sort of graphic detail, so don't be afraid to read this. It is not Wizard Porn.
Saruman Makes a Soufflé
With a triumphant glint in his eye, Saruman pulled a steaming chocolate soufflé out of the oven. A smile curled on his lips as he placed it gingerly on the stone stovetop.
"It...hasn't...fallen!" he thought in wonder. He had never been good at making soufflés; either opening the oven door too soon, or being careless when removing the delicate dish. He stroked his beard in a manner he considered to be majestic.
"And they said I never cook anything!" Saruman said aloud to nobody in particular. His voice resonated in the marble and stone kitchen. Now that he was off that ridiculous TV show, Saruman found he had a lot more time to devote to both normal cooking and sinister cooking. He turned and surveyed the vastness of his kitchen in approbation. No pot was out of place, no spoon unpolished. His antique pewter gravy train was nestled in its own little corner, next to...
The white wizard's eyes narrowed as he let out a beleaguered sigh. "Radagast..." he mumbled. Since Radagast had moved into Orthanc, Saruman had the persistent problem of never having a clean kitchen. Radagast had obviously been eating a crumbly, sticky something-or-other over the countertop. "On the counter," Saruman fumed, "on my counter."
Saruman stalked over to the sink to get his monogrammed white dishcloth. He reached toward the faucet where he usually hung the dishcloth, and saw to his dismay that it was not there. Saruman's eyes widened.
"Confound it!" he said as he walked laboriously to the broom closet. He was sure he'd stored some dishcloths in there at some point. He extended a well-manicured hand to the old knob, also marble. He turned the knob with a creak, and then released it.
The door swung open and dumped a tallish Elven figure with silky, flaxen hair right on top of Saruman. "Blast!" came the wail as Saruman fell under the weight of the Elven figure, a few mops and brooms punctuating the fall by clacking loudly on top of the Elf as well. The Elven figure, clad in a pink baby-doll nightie, instantly opened its eyes and started squawking robotically.
"I am an innocent wood elf! We must wait for the wedding night!"
"Morgoth's teeth...RADAGAST!" yelled Saruman.
"No, we mustn't darling!" the figure continued, "We must waitwaitwaitwait for the wedding night!"
After a few moments of bellowed cursing, Radagast ran into the room frazzled, gasping for breath. His eyes grew wide as he surveyed the ridiculous scene.
"I AM AN INNOCENT WOOD ELF!"
"Stop this confounded thing!"
"Oh dear, I'm sorry, I'm sorry-"
"Just GET IT OFF ME!"
Radagast hastily ran to Saruman and began picking up the brooms that had fallen on top of Saruman.
"I AM A VIRGINAL WOOD ELF!"
Radagast heaved the figure upright as it robotically shouted its protestations.
"I AM A WOODWOODWOODWOOD VIIIIIIIRGINAL ELF!" it screamed. Radagast frantically pushed the Elf figure back into the closet along with the brooms and mop, slamming the door shut behind him.
"...WOODWOODwoodwood wood...wood...Eeeellffffff..." it tapered off behind the closet door.
Saruman arose slowly, trying to maintain what shred of dignity remained. His eyes glinted as he shot a malevolent frown in Radagast's general direction.
"What?"
Saruman did not deign Radagast with a response. He walked quickly to the stovetop to examine the (probably) fallen soufflé. To Saruman's surprise, it was still intact, the chocolate dome still undisturbed and steaming. Saruman drew a breath as he turned to face Radagast. Through gritted teeth he said "What...in the name of Arda...is a Legolas Sex Slave doing in my broom closet?"
Radagast's face turned red. "Well, you see...it started yelling one day, and it wouldn't stop. I think something is wrong with the microchip."
"Something's wrong with the microchip," Saruman mimicked.
"Hey! I mean...so you know how the newer 'Like a Virgin' Legolas Sex Slave has that feature where it stops protesting if you turn out the lights? Well...this one won't shut up unless it is in complete darkness!"
"I certainly would not know," Saruman huffed.
"Oh, don't be silly..."
"But why," rang the wizard's melodious voice, "did you feel the need to put it in my closet? In...MY...closet?"
"It was...the, uh...darkest closet," Radagast offered, lamely.
"That fails to surprise me." Saruman took pride in the drear atmosphere of his tower, Orthanc. If a sinister wizard in such a tower were to have a closet, it had better the darkest closet, he mused.
Gríma rushed in the room, as was his wont, about five minutes after the disaster had occurred. "Need help?" he said with unnecessary venom.
"No...thank you...Gríma," Saruman hissed. Really, he ought to get better help around here. Or at least help that didn't look like a pale reptile on crack. Gríma lurked about the room, adding to the general dreariness of the morbid Orthanc kitchen.
Saruman let out a measured sigh as he surveyed the disgusting crumbs on his counter. He turned and looked at Radagast, who clearly, like most wizards, did not see dirt. He met Radagast's eyes with his piercing glance.
"Radagast, there are crumbs all over my countertop."
"Oh, oops!" Radagast good-naturedly padded over to the countertop and wiped the crumbs on the floor with one swipe. He turned and smiled at Saruman.
"That, Radagast...is...NOT...a solution..." Saruman's voice was deadly cold and quiet.
"Oh, um..." Radagast fumbled. It seemed that no matter what, he was always doing something wrong. Saruman was just so picky.
Gríma, seeing the crumbs on the floor and his master's displeasure, crept over to the broom closet to fetch the broom. He opened the door hastily, causing the avalanche of brooms, mops, and defective Legolas Sex Slave. With a crash they knocked over the surprised Gríma as he fell to the stone floor with a cry.
"I AM A VIRGINAL WOOD ELF!" chirped the robot.
The crash jolted Radagast's attention over to the squirming heap on the floor, his mouth slack in surprise. He slowly turned to Saruman, who instead of looking angry, was looking down at the counter in dismay. He was shaking his head and muttering something incomprehensible. Radagast looked from Saruman to the counter, and then realized...the soufflé had fallen. The fluffy chocolate confection had sunken in the middle, making it appear a goopy mess.
Saruman looked up at Radagast, his eyes flashing, and then turned toward Gríma who was still sputtering on the floor.
"My soufflé!" Saruman howled as he cupped his head in his hands.
"WE MUST WAIT FOR THE WEDWEDWEDWEDDING NIGHT! WOOOOOOD ELF!"
Radagast couldn't help the grin that was spreading across his face. It was simply too funny. The effort of trying not to smile in such a situation made Radagast grin even more. He tried unsuccessfully to stifle a chuckle when Saruman rounded on him.
"YOU...BLASTED...NITWIT!" Saruman bellowed as Radagast giggled uncontrollably.
"I'm...sorry," Radagast said between gulps of air.
"You...most...certainly...are...NOT!"
With that Saruman grabbed a nearby spatula and looked at Radagast menacingly. Radagast's eyes twinkled as he dissolved into even more laughter.
"This...isn't...FUNNY!"
Gríma was lying hopelessly on the floor still, eye to eye with the terrifying Elven robot. He turned to see Saruman chase Radagast from the room, nonstick spatula in hand.
"Wait!" hissed the minion, "Get this off me!" But his cries went unheeded as he heard more distant bellowing echoing through Orthanc tower.
"WE MUST WAIT FOR THE WEDDING NIGHT!"
Gríma kicked off the Legolas Sex Slave in disgust as he stood up and collected the brooms. He shoved the mops, brooms, and Sex Slave back into the closet and closed the door with a slam. He brushed off his dirty robes and approached the fallen soufflé with temerity. He poked a dirty fingernail into the chocolately mess. Bringing the steaming soufflé to his lips, he smiled.
Really, he thought, things were not nearly this interesting before Radagast had moved in. He smiled and continued to eat the fallen soufflé.