Wow, a delay of less than a day between chapters. I must be getting better
at this. Reviews very much encouraged, tell me what you think. Chapter four
tomorrow if I get round to it.
Disclaimer: As I said before, Middle-Earth and its inhabitants do not belong to me. I did not create them. Tolkien did. And that strange noise you can hear is the combined sound of him and Oscar Wilde spinning in their graves.
-----
Saruman had entered the city, and was looking around, wondering where on earth he should go. He went into an orc-run shop, but his request to buy a street map of Barad-Dur was greeted with derision, so he decided just to make for the most prominent landmark: the large, black and red painted tower which was looming ominously in the distance.
He made his way nervously through the narrow streets. There were orcs everywhere; orcs lying drunk in the gutter, orcs conversing in the tongue of Mordor in loud, raucous voices. There were also orcs trying to sell him sandwiches filled with parts of the anatomy of other creatures which Saruman just did not want to know about. He tried to decline their offers and get away, but they drew knives and advanced on him, so Saruman gave them the remainder of his money, which seemed to satisfy them. He got out of there as quickly as he could.
As Saruman drew nearer to the tower it occurred to him that he had never seen anything loom quite so ominously as this particular tower. He wondered if he could get something similar done to his own tower, but then he remembered that he didn't have any money left. Anyway, he though, maybe ominous looming was just a side affect of being evil, and once he had attained the necessary level of evilness, his tower would start to do it of his own accord.
The doors of the tower were locked, but on them was a note saying, "Just popped out for a baguette, back in five minutes, sorry for any inconvenience. Sauron." Saruman sat down on the ground to wait. He had only been there for a couple of minutes when a voice said,
"Greetings, Saruman."
This caused Saruman to nearly jump out of his skin. He leapt to his feet and looked left, right, up down, forwards, backwards and finally left again, because in the midst of the whole ridiculous sequence he had forgotten where he had started. Finally he just backed up against the wall, looking terrified.
"Don't be alarmed, Saruman, this is Sauron speaking. I'm afraid you won't see me by looking around," said the voice, then continued sadly, "I'm afraid I've been a bit...well, a bit disembodied since all that nasty business with the ring."
"I'm very sorry," said Saruman, "but you startled me rather a..." Sauron interrupted him.
"Number one rule of evilness: never, under any circumstances, apologise for anything."
"I'm sorry," said Saruman hastily.
This, thought Sauron, may take some time.
Saruman climbed up a flight of steps into a large hall, where he assumed Sauron had gone. Sauron's voice called from a pair of chairs, which were positioned in the centre of this hall. The ceiling was very high, and painted black, so any observer would not be able to distinguish between it and the night sky. Either that or the orc builders just hadn't bothered to put a roof on the tower at all. Saruman sat down in one of the chairs, and said:
"Right, first and foremost, prices. My rates are thirty dollars an hour, which I think you'll agree is reasonable, considering my status in the league tables of evilness. Since the average course is a week of six-hour days, that comes to...just a second, I'm hopeless at mental arithmetic. Oh drat, how am I supposed to operate a calculator without a body?"
Saruman frowned for a moment, then said, "That's one-thousand two-hundred and sixty dollars." (Back in the Istar Academy, mental arithmetic had been Saruman's only strong point). He sighed, and said, "I just cannot afford that. I suppose I'd better just go home again."
"Hey, wait a minute," said Sauron, "I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement. How about this: when I have taught you how to be evil, for free, you will go off and use your new found abilities to raise an army, plunder villages and create a kingdom for yourself. And you will give me half of it. Sound fair to you?"
"It's a deal," said Saruman, and stuck out his hand to shake Sauron's. He then suddenly remembered that Sauron did not have a hand, and quickly turned the gesture into straightening his hat, in case the Dark Lord saw and took offence.
"Okay, good. We'll start tomorrow. Go and check yourself into a hotel somewhere nearby, and come back at nine o' clock sharp."
Saruman left, and found a hotel with some free rooms. He passed a very uncomfortable night there. Apparently the person who had furnished the room had never heard of beds, because there wasn't one. When he complained to the management, he found that none of them spoke Westron and he could not get his meaning across (not even by pretending to be a bed in the middle of the hotel's lobby). He retired to his bare room, and slept on the floor. In the morning he discovered that the bath must be a purely decorative feature of the bathroom, because he couldn't get it to work. He also did not touch the breakfast that he was provided with, due to an inability to tell what it was. He arrived back at the tower bang on time, and made his way into the hall.
On entering the hall, he saw a single desk and chair in the middle of it, with a blackboard a few feet in front. He sat down at the desk and waited. Then Sauron spoke, and Saruman went through the same screaming-and- looking-wildly-around routine as he had yesterday, until he regained his composure and apologised.
"Remember, don't apologise," said Sauron. Saruman said he was sorry, and that he wouldn't do it again, and Sauron told him not to. Then Saruman said he was sorry, and Sauron...well, you probably get the general idea. They went on in this way, sounding rather like a stuck LP for several minutes, until Saruman finally got the idea and shut up. Sauron drew a deep breath and counted to ten, with his non-existent eyes shut. After he had done this, he trusted himself to speak without yelling at Saruman out of sheer exasperation.
"Right, Saruman, first things first, your clothes. Now, don't ask me why, but evil people almost never wear orange and lilac. They where a good deal of armour, and also black robes, normally with a big spiky helmet."
"Oh, but I like these clothes," whined Saruman.
"Tough. You have to make some sacrifices. No-one will take you seriously looking like that. Secondly, you need a nice, terror-inspiring catchphrase. I think I know just the thing. Repeat after me: SURRENDER or DIE!"
"Durrender or sie!"
"No, no, like this: SURRENDER OR DIE!"
"S-s-surrender or die?"
"Say it like you mean it!"
"Surrender or- no, I'm sorry, what was that last word?"
"Die!"
"Well, if that's what you want, I'll just go away and die in a corner..."
Had Sauron had hair, he would have been tearing it out around now.
Disclaimer: As I said before, Middle-Earth and its inhabitants do not belong to me. I did not create them. Tolkien did. And that strange noise you can hear is the combined sound of him and Oscar Wilde spinning in their graves.
-----
Saruman had entered the city, and was looking around, wondering where on earth he should go. He went into an orc-run shop, but his request to buy a street map of Barad-Dur was greeted with derision, so he decided just to make for the most prominent landmark: the large, black and red painted tower which was looming ominously in the distance.
He made his way nervously through the narrow streets. There were orcs everywhere; orcs lying drunk in the gutter, orcs conversing in the tongue of Mordor in loud, raucous voices. There were also orcs trying to sell him sandwiches filled with parts of the anatomy of other creatures which Saruman just did not want to know about. He tried to decline their offers and get away, but they drew knives and advanced on him, so Saruman gave them the remainder of his money, which seemed to satisfy them. He got out of there as quickly as he could.
As Saruman drew nearer to the tower it occurred to him that he had never seen anything loom quite so ominously as this particular tower. He wondered if he could get something similar done to his own tower, but then he remembered that he didn't have any money left. Anyway, he though, maybe ominous looming was just a side affect of being evil, and once he had attained the necessary level of evilness, his tower would start to do it of his own accord.
The doors of the tower were locked, but on them was a note saying, "Just popped out for a baguette, back in five minutes, sorry for any inconvenience. Sauron." Saruman sat down on the ground to wait. He had only been there for a couple of minutes when a voice said,
"Greetings, Saruman."
This caused Saruman to nearly jump out of his skin. He leapt to his feet and looked left, right, up down, forwards, backwards and finally left again, because in the midst of the whole ridiculous sequence he had forgotten where he had started. Finally he just backed up against the wall, looking terrified.
"Don't be alarmed, Saruman, this is Sauron speaking. I'm afraid you won't see me by looking around," said the voice, then continued sadly, "I'm afraid I've been a bit...well, a bit disembodied since all that nasty business with the ring."
"I'm very sorry," said Saruman, "but you startled me rather a..." Sauron interrupted him.
"Number one rule of evilness: never, under any circumstances, apologise for anything."
"I'm sorry," said Saruman hastily.
This, thought Sauron, may take some time.
Saruman climbed up a flight of steps into a large hall, where he assumed Sauron had gone. Sauron's voice called from a pair of chairs, which were positioned in the centre of this hall. The ceiling was very high, and painted black, so any observer would not be able to distinguish between it and the night sky. Either that or the orc builders just hadn't bothered to put a roof on the tower at all. Saruman sat down in one of the chairs, and said:
"Right, first and foremost, prices. My rates are thirty dollars an hour, which I think you'll agree is reasonable, considering my status in the league tables of evilness. Since the average course is a week of six-hour days, that comes to...just a second, I'm hopeless at mental arithmetic. Oh drat, how am I supposed to operate a calculator without a body?"
Saruman frowned for a moment, then said, "That's one-thousand two-hundred and sixty dollars." (Back in the Istar Academy, mental arithmetic had been Saruman's only strong point). He sighed, and said, "I just cannot afford that. I suppose I'd better just go home again."
"Hey, wait a minute," said Sauron, "I'm sure we can come to some sort of arrangement. How about this: when I have taught you how to be evil, for free, you will go off and use your new found abilities to raise an army, plunder villages and create a kingdom for yourself. And you will give me half of it. Sound fair to you?"
"It's a deal," said Saruman, and stuck out his hand to shake Sauron's. He then suddenly remembered that Sauron did not have a hand, and quickly turned the gesture into straightening his hat, in case the Dark Lord saw and took offence.
"Okay, good. We'll start tomorrow. Go and check yourself into a hotel somewhere nearby, and come back at nine o' clock sharp."
Saruman left, and found a hotel with some free rooms. He passed a very uncomfortable night there. Apparently the person who had furnished the room had never heard of beds, because there wasn't one. When he complained to the management, he found that none of them spoke Westron and he could not get his meaning across (not even by pretending to be a bed in the middle of the hotel's lobby). He retired to his bare room, and slept on the floor. In the morning he discovered that the bath must be a purely decorative feature of the bathroom, because he couldn't get it to work. He also did not touch the breakfast that he was provided with, due to an inability to tell what it was. He arrived back at the tower bang on time, and made his way into the hall.
On entering the hall, he saw a single desk and chair in the middle of it, with a blackboard a few feet in front. He sat down at the desk and waited. Then Sauron spoke, and Saruman went through the same screaming-and- looking-wildly-around routine as he had yesterday, until he regained his composure and apologised.
"Remember, don't apologise," said Sauron. Saruman said he was sorry, and that he wouldn't do it again, and Sauron told him not to. Then Saruman said he was sorry, and Sauron...well, you probably get the general idea. They went on in this way, sounding rather like a stuck LP for several minutes, until Saruman finally got the idea and shut up. Sauron drew a deep breath and counted to ten, with his non-existent eyes shut. After he had done this, he trusted himself to speak without yelling at Saruman out of sheer exasperation.
"Right, Saruman, first things first, your clothes. Now, don't ask me why, but evil people almost never wear orange and lilac. They where a good deal of armour, and also black robes, normally with a big spiky helmet."
"Oh, but I like these clothes," whined Saruman.
"Tough. You have to make some sacrifices. No-one will take you seriously looking like that. Secondly, you need a nice, terror-inspiring catchphrase. I think I know just the thing. Repeat after me: SURRENDER or DIE!"
"Durrender or sie!"
"No, no, like this: SURRENDER OR DIE!"
"S-s-surrender or die?"
"Say it like you mean it!"
"Surrender or- no, I'm sorry, what was that last word?"
"Die!"
"Well, if that's what you want, I'll just go away and die in a corner..."
Had Sauron had hair, he would have been tearing it out around now.