Anything Star-Lord Can Do, Zoop Can Do Better

March 9, 3019

Well. Things have taken an unexpected turn. The last two days have been... Okay, from the beginning, or I'll lose you.

Yesterday morning, like way damn early, we found the pass. Empty, thank god, so we hoofed it as fast as my fat legs could carry me. Sincerely hoping all the way that all the Orcs in Mordor saw the sun peeking over the mountains and said, 'Fuck this, it's bed time.'

There's always that one guy, isn't there?

Or in this case, two guys. We rounded a bend, and there were two Orcs huddled in serious conference ahead of us. There seemed to be an argument going on with regards to a piece of paper they were looking over. In the deep recesses of my Orc-fancier mind, I squeed, because it could mean they're literate. Not just hatched for the purposes of mayhem, but possibly educated beyond 'heavy blunt end goes whack.' The larger, more in-control part nearly wet itself, because there were two Orcs ahead of us. I couldn't seem to fumble my frickin' pepper spray out of my pack before Ufkoth was hefting his sword and assuming a fighting stance.

What'd they look like? Okay – the taller one was wearing several layers of mismatched armor in varying states of disrepair. The shorter, more Goblin-y looking guy was wearing another slapped-together hodge-podge of leather shielding on his arms and legs, plus a filthy-ass tunic that might have been a festive green color at some point in its clearly long military career. Apparently, Sauron isn't about uniformity, or modern equippage, in his army.

Face-wise, they had some serious ugly going on, but not Gothmog-ugly, if you know what I mean. The short one was a carbon copy of the Moria crowd, while the tall one looked like one of the wilder WETA creations from the local branch. Maybe Sauron didn't give them matching uniforms, but they managed to sync up their stink-eyes pretty well when we clattered into view.

Then the weird shit started, because the end was nigh. Frodo and Sam clumsily drew swords, and Sting announced our allegience to Elfdom pretty damn loudly. It's possible Ufkoth's presence made the Orcs pause a moment to consider their next move, because we literally stood staring at one another for a few seconds.

I did the thing. I totally did the Star-Lord thing. I was too damn nervous to translate-on-the-fly, so I nailed the entire gang with Kung Fu Fighting in Black Speech*. Complete with hand chopping gestures punctuated with 'HUHN' and 'HYAH.' It was priceless, and quite possibly marginally racist. Jaws dropped on every Orc, including Ufkoth, who hadn't heard me using the Dark Lord's English before.

Which almost blew it for us, because while I had the Orcs' shocked/stunned/WTF attention, I kept nudging my knapsack at Ufkoth with my foot. The universal, 'Get my pepper spray outta the bag and let'em have it' signal. He was paralyzed from the neck up through the entire first verse. Then he snapped out of it.

One screaming, thrashing, bungee-cord-applying fun time later, we had two trussed up, pissed off Orcs on our hands. But wait... it gets better.

Ufkoth took a look at the paper they were hunched over earlier, and revealed his hitherto unknown talent for reading. Okay, big surprise. But here's something interesting: the paper was a long list of names and numbers, some checked off, some crossed out. I thought, what the hell? So I asked – in Westron – what their names are.

I'm not even lying about this.

The tall one wouldn't answer at first, but his little buddy snarled out Gimbash. Well, I heard 'one who finds,' but trust me, it's Gimbash.

Me: Okay, and you?

Tall Orc: [stink-eye]

Me: [to Gimbash] Is he your commander?

Gimbash: Whatchou wanna know fer? Who're you?

Me: A tourist taking in the sights. Lovely place you've got here. Could use some Febreze, though. So what's his name?

Gimbash: Ain't yer bizness.

Me: [slyly] So why'd you tell me yours?

Gimbash: [stumped]

Me: [waves list] What's this about? Who's on this list?

Gimbash: [clams up]

Me: [deep, long-suffering sigh]

Ufkoth: I'll make him talk. [unsheathes knife]

Me: That's not being very friendly, now is it?

Tall Orc: What do you want, filthy tark?

Me: Guides into Mordor. Specifically to Orodruin. Know anyone we could ask?

Gimbash: The fuck yuh wanna go there fer?

Me: Spoilers. [to Tall Orc] You seem like the leader type. If you're not interested, can I borrow your little friend here?

Tall Orc: [bares teeth] You get nothing from either of us.

Ufkoth: [done with this shit] Just kill them. Both of them. We'll find our own way.

Me: [suddenly thrust into the 'good cop' position] Not until we know who we're dealing with. [to Tall Orc] You – what's your name? Tell me, or I'll start singing again.

Tall Orc: [a little too hastily] [maybe even desperately] Shagrat. It's Shagrat.

As you can imagine, I nearly shit myself. Maybe I got 'demands ransom' translated in my head, but I know Shagrat when I hear it. Then the weird got weirder.

Me: Group huddle. [gather Ufkoth, Frodo, and Sam a few yards away] [whispering] Holy crap guys, he's canon.

Frodo: Oh dear.

Ufkoth: What difference does that make? They're Mordor Orcs; they will stop us if they can. Kill them both now.

Frodo: But we can't. He's canon; killing him is out of scope.

Sam: What's he supposed to do? Is it real important?

Me: Um... well... he... sort of... tortures and robs Frodo, but that's not going to happen. Because... we kind of screwed it up by meeting him on this side of the Ephel Duath. Sort of.

Frodo: He is meant to torture me? [worried glance at Shagrat]

Me: Was. Not this time around. [looks at list] There's something not right about this. I don't know what it's about, but I'm going to find out before we move another inch.

Sam: [thoughtful] Well, we do need a SME... Two's better than one, I expect.

Ufkoth: You've both gone mad. They will kill us all.

Me: You didn't. Who's to say they will?

Ufkoth: [smirk] They don't know you like I do.

Me: Ah crap, we're doomed.

Then I glanced back at our captives, and Gimbash was in the process of inching toward me. Shagrat was staring at the list in my hand intently, kind of encouraging his little buddy's efforts. I'm thinking, WTF is this?

Declaring the meeting adjourned, I went over and confronted them. Far be it from me to restrain myself from name-dropping. I waved the paper in Shagrat's face and demanded to know if Gorbag knew he had it.

Oh. My. God. You should've seen the holy-crap-how-the-fuck-look-cool-man-don't-blow-it expression on his face. Then he had the nerve to affect totally transparent innocence and say, "Who's Gorbag?" Yeah, right. Pull the other one; it sings a song.

Meanwhile, short little Gimbash is silent for once, but has the shifty-eyed look of someone trying to find the nearest exit.

I'm giving them a little break, then going back into the ring. I don't know why, but this list is really damned important to them. It must be, because they haven't said one word about eating my face or ripping out my guts, the standard Litmus test for hostile party identification in Middle Earth, but they're both just staring at that list like losing possession of it means they've just lost the war.

Kung Fu Fighting by Carl Douglas, the way everyone else heard it (or close enough). It probably would've rhymed better in the original Klingon. ;)

Everybody was Kung Fu fighting

Ashrûgh maukuzut Kung-Fûrz

Those kicks were fast as lightning

Shakolu snaku zash [lightning]

In fact, it was a little bit frightening

Atâr-ishi, kuluzat uf nardur

But they fought with expert timing

Naan ulu maukuzut paashum-sha sriz

There was funky China men from funky Chinatown

Kuluzut shara rakothûrzu China-obu, China-goi-ghaara rakothûrz

They were chopping them up

Ulu akuzut ul-sûr

They were chopping them down

Ulu akuzut ul-gukh

It's an Ancient Chinese art

Ta kulat shakathsi motsham Chinese

And everybody knew their part

Agh ashrûgh isstuzut ulub kraash

From a feinting, to a slip

Globuzut-ghaara, nalmâdkuzut-u

And a kickin' from the hip

Agh shakoluzut [hip]-ghaara

Everybody was Kung Fu fighting etc.

There was funky Billie Chin and little Sammy Chong

Kuluzut Billie Chin rakothûrz, agh Sammy Chong gaz

He said, here comes the big boss, let's get it on

Ta gashnuzat, goth dur skaatuzat tul, dav-izishu nork-ta-ir

We took the bow and made a stand

Norkuz lak agh gunduz-ir

Started swaying with the hand

Ashuz garzogat naakh-sha

A sudden motion made me skip

Shon trosh larg-izish narprak

Now we're into a brand new trip

Rad nûrl shakathsi ûn

Everybody was Kung Fu fighting etc.