Author's Note: Yep...another chapter. Don't expect regular updates on this story, though--this chapter and the next one are already written, but after that, I may or may not write it soon...or not...so, yeah. Anyway, the fandom for this one is Lord of the Rings. And there are a handful of jokes in here about Lord of the Rings and Inheritance being similar--don't take it too seriously, it's just me poking fun. (laughs) Enjoy!


Chapter 1: Will Work for Rings

Durza sat at the table, looking supremely bored. Arya was next to him, munching on chocolate, and Krunk was on his other side, happily working on his latest epic poem. Durza flipped through the file in front of him. They were expecting a few applicants today—a small group of orcs, some people calling themselves 'Uruk-Hai', someone with very poor handwriting that he couldn't actually read…a good haul.

The door opened. It was the first applicant. It was a tall man—at least they thought it was a man—shrouded in a black cloak. He sat down in the chair and remained staring at them all. At least they thought he was staring—his face was hidden by a black hood.

"Now, you would be…Ringwraith #1. Why don't you tell us a little about yourself?" said Durza.

The creature held up a sword and waved it vaguely. He made a circular motion in the air.

"Circle? Loop?"

The creature made the circle again, smaller.

"Ring?"

The creature nodded.

"I see. Now, your references list 'Sauron, almost lord of Middle-Earth'. I tried giving him a call, but I just got an answering machine, something about being utterly destroyed…? Is that why you need work?"

The creature nodded.

"All right, let's a have a demonstration of your skills. If you were going to interrogate her"—he pointed to Arya—"how would you do it?"

The Ringwraith stood up, towering over Arya. Then it made a high-pitched shrieking noise that made the blood run cold. It was the sound of every horrible thing that ever walked in nightmares, the concentrated evil of an entire race, the malice of Mordor itself.

Arya yawned and starting chewing a hangnail.

"…right. We'll get back to you," Durza said. The Ringwraith left, looking rather sad and shaking his fist. The door opened again, and a group of tall, ugly creatures with leathery skin walked in.

"You would be…the Uruk-Hai?" Durza said.

The lead Uruk-Hai nodded. "I'm Grishnak, chief Uruk-Hai!"

"Tell us a little about yourself."

"I was created by Sauraman the great, who gives us manflesh to eat!"

Arya choked, looking disgusted. "Even you aren't that bad," she muttered to Durza.

Durza glared at her, then turned back to Grisnak. "Any special skills?"

"We can run in the sunlight."

"And?"

"For long periods of time."

"Can you outrun a horse?"

Grisnak shuffled his feet. "…almost."

"How are you any different from Kull?"

Grishnak slammed his fist down on the table. "We came first, curse you! You're just like those horse-boys, those maggot-ridden fools! We're much better than those Moria goblins! We're much tougher than Lugberz troops! We're—"

"Next!" Durza said, pointing to the door. Grishnak marched out, muttering furiously.

"You know, they looked awfully familiar," Krunk said. "That Ringwraith guy, too. He reminded me of, oh…what was it again…"

"The Ra'zac?" Durza suggested. "Maybe a little. But the Ra'zac are more talkative. And they have lisps."

"That's true," said Krunk. He turned to Arya. "What's a good rhyme for 'churlish'?"

"Er…"

"Krunk, no fraternizing with the prisoners!" Durza said.

Krunk sighed. "No need to be impolite."

Arya smiled at the Urgal. "You're very nice, for a servant of evil. Not like him," she added, pointing at Durza. "He's terrible, you know. Absolutely insane."

"That's true," Krunk said. "But I rather like him all the same."

"Would you stop talking about me as if I'm not here!?" Durza said, scowling. "Now who have we got next?"

The door opened, and they all looked forward expectantly, but no one was there. Then they heard a voice coming from somewhere around their knees.

"Smeagol is here for minion job! We likes minions, oh yes, we likes them!"

There was a long, long silence as Smeagol scampered forward on all fours and pulled himself up into the chair.

Durza took a deep breath. "…um. Yes. So. Your name is Smeagol? I don't have a Smeagol listed here…"

Smeagol leaned forward to look at the list, then pointed to the unreadable smudge with one grubby finger. "There's Smeagol's name!"

"…right. So…what are you, exactly?"

"Smeagol is Smeagol! He likes nice hobbitses, and fish, and…and…" Suddenly his voice changed. His bulbous eyes glowed green, and he tugged at his thin hair. "Gollum, Gollum! We hates them, we hates them! We wants the precioussssss!"

"I can't imagine what he is," Arya whispered. "He's like some…some shriveled, tiny person with fangs, claws, and bug eyes."

"I don't want to know what he is," Durza whispered back. Then the two of them remembered they were supposed to be enemies and resumed glaring at each other.

"So what are your skills?" Durza asked Gollum/Smeagol.

"Smeagol finds safe paths for nice master! And he helps master, and…and…Gollum! Gollum! We hates nasty hobbits, we chokes them, we straaaangles them!"

"You don't seem to have any references listed here. Care to comment on that?"

Smeagol/Gollum didn't hear Durza. He was busy arguing with himself. "But we likes nice minion job! No, we hates it, Gollum, Gollum! But minion job is nice! No, minion job will keep precious wages all for itssss nasty self!"

"Okay, I think you can go now," Durza said. When Smeagol/Gollum didn't seem to hear him, Durza got up, grabbed him by the scruff of the neck, and threw him out the door. Then he sat back down and dusted his hands off.

"Next?"

They saw several groups of orcs and goblins, a few dark-skinned soldiers who said they were from someplace called Haradun, and someone who called himself the 'Mouth of Sauron' (recently re-capitated), but none of them quite fit the bill of a proper Evil Minion. Durza was beginning to despair of ever finishing this ridiculous job.

Then the door opened, and the last applicant stepped in. He was an old man with long white beard and hair. His face was grave and wise, and his eyes were dark. His robes shimmered first one color and then another. In his hand he grasped a slender white staff.

"Now, you've written down here 'Saruman of the Many Colors'," Durza said. "Care to explain that title?"

Saruman sat down in the chair as if it was a throne. "Greetings, sir, and of course greetings to you, most fair lady."

Krunk sighed. As usual, he was being ignored.

Arya sat up a little straighter. "Well, at least someone around here has taste."

Saruman smiled at her kindly. "Who would not call you beautiful?"

"He wouldn't," Arya said, pointing at Durza.

Saruman's smile widened. "Then he's perfect! An evil minion who can resist the charms of attractive members of the rebellion…it couldn't be better!"

"Mr. Many Colors, I'm here to offer you a job," Durza said.

Saruman smiled. "Please…call me Saruman. And I think I can make you an offer you can't refuse. Join me and become my minion! Together, we shall rule Middle Earth!"

Durza leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "What's this Middle Earth place like?"

"Oh—a sprawling, fantastical land. Elves, dwarves, men, hobbits, and ents roam. Wizards, a land in the West, beyond the sea, an evil being that must be destroyed, magic…you know, the usual sorts of things."

"That sounds an awful lot like Alagaesia," Arya said, no longer smiling.

"Middle Earth is far better than Alagaesia, you silly girl," Saruman said, his eyes turning cold. "This is a mere shadow of the grandeur that is Middle Earth! My tower, Isengard—"

"That sounds like the Isenstar," Arya said, her eyes narrowing. "Are you just making this up? Because if you are, you could at least try not to copy Alagaesia so much!"

"I don't need to make it up, because Middle Earth is better than this hole, you wretched wh—"

Arya shot to her feet, ready to slap Saruman so hard his head would be on backwards, but Durza beat her to it. He grabbed Saruman by the front of his colorful robes, yanking him up.

"Don't even think about saying it. And if you're not looking for a job, get lost already."

Saruman swallowed hard. When Durza released him, he waited a moment to retain at least some shred of dignity, then fled.

"You're better off here anyway," Arya said.

"What do you care?" said Krunk. "Durza is your enemy. Shouldn't you want him to leave?"

Arya turned to him, her face set. "We Alagaesians have to stick together. If we let some other fandom steal our characters, who knows what might happen?"

Durza rubbed his temples. This day had gone on for far too long. "All right, that's it, I am not interviewing anyone else from this Middle Earth place! Troublemakers, the whole lot of them…Krunk, you file the paperwork."

Krunk nodded and left, his hands full of file folders. Durza got up to leave as well, but Arya grabbed his arm.

"Wait—what about me?"

"What about you?" Durza said, shaking her hand off.

"You're not going to put me back in that cell, are you?"

"Why shouldn't I?" Durza said.

Arya folded her arms across her chest. "If you do, I won't help you. Not even for chocolate!"

They stared each other down for a few minutes, but finally Durza relented. He was tired, he had a headache, and he had to do this all again tomorrow. He did not have the patience for this right now.

"Fine. Whatever. Just go already, and leave me to be miserable in peace!"

Arya nodded, smiling. "Thank you," she said, and walked out with great dignity. Then she paused and leaned back around the door for a moment. "And by the way—Saruman still had better manners than you."

"I'm a villain! I'm not supposed to have manners!"

"Krunk does," Arya called back. "And Saruman is better-looking than you, too!"

Durza ground his teeth. He should never have agreed to this whole idea. Hiring minions, indeed…

"Next time I should tell the King to get off that idiotic throne and do his dirty work himself," Durza muttered.

Yeah. And hell should freeze over next time, too.