Sauron and the Ringwraiths (A love story)

Chapter 9

As they approached the luxury hotel on the pristine Harad beach Ringwraith Bob turns to the Eye.

"How'd you manage to swing this?" he asked in awe.  "I've heard it can take months to book a room here."

"Not just any room, my dear Bob," smiles the Dark Lord Sauron.  "The Diabolical Ruler Suite."

The Witchking goggled.

"Come, my most precious of Ringbearers, allow me to spoil you for once."

Bob whispered, "You do so much for me, Eye."

"Nonsense!  What is the point of being all-powerful and the most diabolical being on the face of Middle Earth if I cannot be nice to the most important person in my life every now and again?"

The Oliphaunt driver's ears pricked.  The Eye of Sauron leaned forward in his seat and whispered evilly: "You heard nothing."  The Uruk nodded dumbly and steered the beast toward the hotel's parking bay.

"You know, I much prefer horseback," commented Bob as he dismounted gingerly from the beast's broad back.

Sauron collected their luggage from the Oliphaunt's enormous trunk.  "An Oliphaunt has presence, Witchy, and it's much less chafing on the thighs…"

The Bob laughed and rolled his eyes.  He linked arms with the Eye and the couple strolled through the opulent lobby.  Beings from all over Middle Earth seemed to be staying in the elegant hotel: Orcs, Elves, Men (and Women), Hobbitses (and their related brethren of the waterways)… Birds soared through the vaulted ceilings and perched on unlikely inanimate objects. 

As Sauron filled in the check-in card, a small sparrow-like bird sat upon his pen.  A rather large avian creature tried to make off with the suitcases, but, upon failing, contented itself with pulling out strands of Bob's hair.

"Right, let's go!" called the Eye cheerily.

Bob hefted the suitcases (still sporting the blue-plumed bird in his hair) and followed his partner.  He marvelled at the setting, eyes widening at the splendour of the corridors alone, and his brief glimpses into rooms served to mystify him further.

"Eye, you can't afford this," he hissed as they traversed the long halls.

"Of course I can!  You don't think I used the fires of Orodruin to forge just one measly Ring, do you?"

"Wha…?"

Sauron raised a hand, silencing the Witchking.  He drew from a fold of his cloak a small card.  "My dear friend, Mount Doom is one of the safest banks in Middle Earth, with my own personal Mint.  This card, the (evil)Visa, allows me to access my hoard of wealth without carrying sacks of gold.  You know how a pocketful of gold can destroy the line of your outfit…"

He passed the card to Bob, who turned it over in his hands.  "Now you tell me, Eye," he laughs.  "I could have saved so much space packing!"

"I have one for you, too," The Eye remarked.  Without pausing for Bob's reaction, he said:  "Ah, here we are – the Diabolical Ruler Suite."  He threw the doors of the suite wide.  "Make yourself at home, Bob."

Bob dropped the cases in the doorway and stared into the room.  Before his was a sumptuous living area, complete with leather couches, deep-pile carpet and French doors opening directly onto their private beach.  All the mod-cons, which put his Morgul tower to shame.

"Bob, come here!" called the Eye from a distant room.

Negotiating the suite carefully, Bob soon found himself in a massive bedroom.  Sprawled across the Iluvatar-sized bed was the Eye.

"Sheer luxury, innit Witchy?" he sighed contentedly.

At this point in time, the bird decided to leave Bob's head and perch above the doorway.  "Git out of it!" cried Bob, throwing a pillow at it.

"Nevermore," smirked the bird.