Chapter Twelve: In Which the Mouth of Sauron Can't Speak... Gangsta
"We're here," Mating said, and unceremoniously dumped Jeannette to the dusty ground. "They're ready for you."
Jeannette hesitated to turn around, not wanting to gaze upon the hideous mutilation of nature that Sauron had created for a lieutenant. However, she did, and was horrified to see... "A CHICKEN?" she gasped.
The chicken tilted its head to the side, looking at Jeannette with dark, beady chicken eyes. "Yes," the chicken said, almost causing Jeannette to faint. "I am Henrietta the Second, Lieutenant of the Mouth of Sauron. Come this way, and I will take you to him." The chicken turned and waddled off, going so slowly that Jeanette could have crawled alongside it and still kept up. She decided to keep her dignity, and got to her feet, walking alongside the chicken.
"So you're Sauron's second-in-command?" she asked, curious despite herself. It wasn't every day that you found yourself in Mordor with a talking chicken leading you to the Dark Lord of Middle Earth himself. "No offense or anything, but how can you do that? You're a chicken."
"I'm not," Henrietta the Second clucked. "Sauron's second, I mean. Nelson is."
"Nelson?" Jeannette asked.
"Sorry," Henrietta the Second said apologetically, ruffling her feathers and jumping from claw to claw. Her beady chicken eyes were still focused on Jeannette. "Poor Nelson is the Mouth of Sauron."
"I see," Jeannette lied, and followed the chicken, who ruffled her feathers at random moments. The flying feathers made Jeannette sneeze.
"Sorry," Henrietta the Second said again, and stopped. Jeannette heaved a sigh of relief, and the chicken turned around. She smiled a beady chicken smile, and said, "Right this way, please."
Faint strains of music were echoing down the hall, and Jeannette strained to hear it. It sounded so familiar, but she couldn't place it. *What could it be?* she wondered, frustrated. "You're very polite, here," she said to break the silence. Henrietta the Second didn't answer, leaving Jeannette to listen to the music. Finally, she could make out the words.
"Where is the love, the love, the love?" an extremely high male voice sang. It was excruciatingly painful to the ear "The love."
Jeannette could hardly keep from gasping. What was Justin Timberlake doing in Barad-dûr? She wanted to run ahead of the chicken, but good manners kept her from doing so. Mrs. Rivera had not raised her child to be rude. "Who is that?" she asked.
Henrietta the Second turned back to Jeannette, grimacing. "That's Nelson," she said. "I refuse to call him the Mouth of Sauron when he sings such ridiculous music, but it is him all the same. I never found out where he got that contraption."
Despite all her mother's good teachings, Jeannette broke into a sprint, silken lavender skirt flowing behind her. As she rounded a corner, the music getting louder, she saw a man with a mysterious resemblance to Eminem. (A/N: Ahem. This has nothing to do with my dislike for rap. *coughs*) "What...?" she managed, catching a glimpse of a portable CD player and head phones. Nelson tried hastily to cover it with a helmet similar to the one Jeannette had seen on Sauron in "The Fellowship of the Ring", but he failed miserably.
"Yo, yo, yo," he said in a high falsetto. "Wassup, my sista?"
Jeannette could only stare. Did he think she was black? Well, she wasn't. "I'm not black," she said briskly, and you may stop referring to me as such."
"Chill, my dawg," Nelson said. "It's just a code name, ya know, my dawg?" He tried use the hand motions that were common among gangsters, but the helmet and the headphones made a combination that was impossible to look cool.
"Where are we, East L.A.?" Henrietta the Second demanded. "Stop this nonsense right away, Nelson. Lord Sauron has commanded this Mary-Sue kidnapped and brought to Barad-dûr immediately. I will not have you spoil his victory with that ridiculous...rap."
"Chill, my dawg, um, chickette," Nelson said, pumping the air with his fists. "I'll take the gal to the Dark Lord, I mean..." He hastily removed the headphones and stuck the helmet more firmly on his head, straightening his back as he did so. "All right, Henrietta," he announced, his now bass voice echoing in the hallway. "I shall take this Mary-Sue to Lord Sauron."
"Excuse me?" Jeannette asked. "My name isn't Mary-Sue! Ugh." She shuddered. "If it were even Mary I'd kill myself."
"Watch it, Nettie," Mary Henderson said, emerging from the shadows to the left of the door. "I happen to like my name, thank you very much." Nelson looked at her, surprised, and she disappeared in a brilliant flash of light.
"We'll just ignore that strange happening," Henrietta the Second said, pretending that Mary hadn't ever been there. "I, for one, would prefer to think that strange women cannot just transport in Barad-dûr without any warning." She shivered, probably thinking about the doomed, random, nameless, and currently dead orc from Chapter Nine: In Which There Are Many Random Orcs. It truly was an unpleasant way to end.
"Good idea," Nelson said, hurriedly wiping away the pool of drool at his feet. "Come this way my dawg, I mean, Lady Jeannette." He scooted quickly into the doors, making Jeannette wait outside while he presented her.
***In the throne-room of Barad-dûr***
Sauron leaned his head onto his hand, his elbow strategically placed on the cushioned arm of his throne. *Mom says I look sexiest this way,* he thought. His beauty would have to used to his advantage to win this Mary- Sue over - and it would be insanely difficult.
"The Lady Jeannette," Nelson said, that stupid helmet - no matter how imposing it was to the occasional visitor, Sauron always thought it the most pointless thing in Middle-Earth - tilting in the wrong direction. *Idiot,* he thought. *Can't even wear a war helmet right!*
"Send her in," the Dark Lord said, idly waving his hand. *You're hot,* he assured himself. *There's no one hotter than you, baby. You just have to know it!* "Tell her that I am waiting."
Nelson bowed, and Sauron considered what exactly he was planning to say. *Tell her that she's ravishing! Yes, yes, that's good.* He mentally patted himself on the back for his wonderful ideas. *Mom would be so proud of you, Gorthy!* The sound of a woman clearing her throat started him from his immensely important reveries. "Oh, hello, Mary-Sue."
That put Jeannette over the edge. "MY NAME IS NOT MARY-SUE!" she shouted. "AND I'M VERY ANGRY WITH YOU! WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO KIDNAP ME IN THE MIDDLE OF LOVE-MAKING?" She marched straight up to Sauron and hit him on the face. "AND YOU DESERVED THAT!" she added, still at the top of her lungs.
"Whoa," Sauron said, gingerly touching the red mark on his otherwise beautiful face. "Hold on, there. I know your name isn't Mary-Sue; it's just what you are."
"I see," Jeannette said, and Sauron envied her obvious intelligence. However, because I am the author and I know all, I will tell you that Jeannette was lying, and that she had absolutely no idea of what a Mary-Sue was. Therefore, Sauron was envying something that didn't exist. Anyways, let us continue.
"Good," Sauron said. "That saves me the trouble of explaining it." He returned to his 'I'm-So-Ravishingly-Sexy-Fall-In-Love-With-Me' pose. "Now, where is the Ring?"
"I don't have it," replied Jeannette. "Frodo does." She didn't seem to realize what a heavy blow she had just dealt the Dark Lord. A Hobbit had the Ring of Power? Then why wasn't a shriveled little Gollum-creature writhing at his feet right then? Why weren't the Nazgul thundering back to Minas Morgul with a Halfling in tow? This wasn't right!
"WHAT?" he roared. "A HALFLING HAS MY RING?!?!"
Jeannette shrugged casually. "Yup," she said. "Now can I go?" She appeared poised to leave, but Sauron's roar stopped her in her tracks.
"NO! A HALFING HAS MY RING! AND I WANT IT BACK!" He pointed angrily at Nelson; a ball of fire flew from his fingers and tried to consume the Mouth of Sauron. When the flames died away, Nelson was still there and very much alive. Sauron saw him glance at Jeannette and mouth 'Thank God for the helmet. Isn't it cool?' Nelson had absolutely no skill at all. Smoothing his already spiked hair, and pricking his thumb for the effort, Sauron settled himself into his throne and stared directly at Jeannette. "A Halfling has my Ring," he said. "And I understand that you were traveling with this group that they call 'The Fellowship of the Ring'."
Jeannette bowed her head, and Sauron realized exactly how pretty she was. "Yes," she said in a mournful voice. "Not even all the tears of Middle Earth can keep a Princess of Mirkwood."
"Whoa," Sauron said, interrupting her. "You're a Princess of Mirkwood? When did the Stick get married?" He immediately realized that calling Legolas 'the Stick' had been a huge mistake.
"Why does everybody make fun of Legsy?" Jeannette asked softly, swaying up to Sauron. *Oooooh,* he thought. *Tough cookies!* "Is he really that bad?"
Sauron saw the opening, and, despite the emotional distress it would cause Jeannette, said, "Yes, indeed." Jeannette's mouth opened to disagree, but he overrode her. The girl needed to hear this - it would turn her to his cause. "Legolas." Sauron heaved a sigh, as if mourning for the Elven- prince. "He is under the influence of the terrible weed called "The Precious".
"No," Jeannette said. She was obviously breaking under the terrible news. "It cannot be! My precious Legolas!"
"It is true," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "You have my condolences, my Lady." There; that was the end of his speech, and if she didn't come, crying, running into his arms, he would renounce his title as the "Dark Lord of Middle Earth" and go prancing off to Valinor. Heck, maybe Arien would even give him another go at it. But his thoughts were interrupted by Jeannette running into his arms, crying. "There, there," he murmured into her hair. By the Void, it smelled good. What conditioner did she use? "Nobody's perfect." *Except for Mary-Sues,* he admitted mentally. *But what the heck. She'll get me my Ring.*
"We're here," Mating said, and unceremoniously dumped Jeannette to the dusty ground. "They're ready for you."
Jeannette hesitated to turn around, not wanting to gaze upon the hideous mutilation of nature that Sauron had created for a lieutenant. However, she did, and was horrified to see... "A CHICKEN?" she gasped.
The chicken tilted its head to the side, looking at Jeannette with dark, beady chicken eyes. "Yes," the chicken said, almost causing Jeannette to faint. "I am Henrietta the Second, Lieutenant of the Mouth of Sauron. Come this way, and I will take you to him." The chicken turned and waddled off, going so slowly that Jeanette could have crawled alongside it and still kept up. She decided to keep her dignity, and got to her feet, walking alongside the chicken.
"So you're Sauron's second-in-command?" she asked, curious despite herself. It wasn't every day that you found yourself in Mordor with a talking chicken leading you to the Dark Lord of Middle Earth himself. "No offense or anything, but how can you do that? You're a chicken."
"I'm not," Henrietta the Second clucked. "Sauron's second, I mean. Nelson is."
"Nelson?" Jeannette asked.
"Sorry," Henrietta the Second said apologetically, ruffling her feathers and jumping from claw to claw. Her beady chicken eyes were still focused on Jeannette. "Poor Nelson is the Mouth of Sauron."
"I see," Jeannette lied, and followed the chicken, who ruffled her feathers at random moments. The flying feathers made Jeannette sneeze.
"Sorry," Henrietta the Second said again, and stopped. Jeannette heaved a sigh of relief, and the chicken turned around. She smiled a beady chicken smile, and said, "Right this way, please."
Faint strains of music were echoing down the hall, and Jeannette strained to hear it. It sounded so familiar, but she couldn't place it. *What could it be?* she wondered, frustrated. "You're very polite, here," she said to break the silence. Henrietta the Second didn't answer, leaving Jeannette to listen to the music. Finally, she could make out the words.
"Where is the love, the love, the love?" an extremely high male voice sang. It was excruciatingly painful to the ear "The love."
Jeannette could hardly keep from gasping. What was Justin Timberlake doing in Barad-dûr? She wanted to run ahead of the chicken, but good manners kept her from doing so. Mrs. Rivera had not raised her child to be rude. "Who is that?" she asked.
Henrietta the Second turned back to Jeannette, grimacing. "That's Nelson," she said. "I refuse to call him the Mouth of Sauron when he sings such ridiculous music, but it is him all the same. I never found out where he got that contraption."
Despite all her mother's good teachings, Jeannette broke into a sprint, silken lavender skirt flowing behind her. As she rounded a corner, the music getting louder, she saw a man with a mysterious resemblance to Eminem. (A/N: Ahem. This has nothing to do with my dislike for rap. *coughs*) "What...?" she managed, catching a glimpse of a portable CD player and head phones. Nelson tried hastily to cover it with a helmet similar to the one Jeannette had seen on Sauron in "The Fellowship of the Ring", but he failed miserably.
"Yo, yo, yo," he said in a high falsetto. "Wassup, my sista?"
Jeannette could only stare. Did he think she was black? Well, she wasn't. "I'm not black," she said briskly, and you may stop referring to me as such."
"Chill, my dawg," Nelson said. "It's just a code name, ya know, my dawg?" He tried use the hand motions that were common among gangsters, but the helmet and the headphones made a combination that was impossible to look cool.
"Where are we, East L.A.?" Henrietta the Second demanded. "Stop this nonsense right away, Nelson. Lord Sauron has commanded this Mary-Sue kidnapped and brought to Barad-dûr immediately. I will not have you spoil his victory with that ridiculous...rap."
"Chill, my dawg, um, chickette," Nelson said, pumping the air with his fists. "I'll take the gal to the Dark Lord, I mean..." He hastily removed the headphones and stuck the helmet more firmly on his head, straightening his back as he did so. "All right, Henrietta," he announced, his now bass voice echoing in the hallway. "I shall take this Mary-Sue to Lord Sauron."
"Excuse me?" Jeannette asked. "My name isn't Mary-Sue! Ugh." She shuddered. "If it were even Mary I'd kill myself."
"Watch it, Nettie," Mary Henderson said, emerging from the shadows to the left of the door. "I happen to like my name, thank you very much." Nelson looked at her, surprised, and she disappeared in a brilliant flash of light.
"We'll just ignore that strange happening," Henrietta the Second said, pretending that Mary hadn't ever been there. "I, for one, would prefer to think that strange women cannot just transport in Barad-dûr without any warning." She shivered, probably thinking about the doomed, random, nameless, and currently dead orc from Chapter Nine: In Which There Are Many Random Orcs. It truly was an unpleasant way to end.
"Good idea," Nelson said, hurriedly wiping away the pool of drool at his feet. "Come this way my dawg, I mean, Lady Jeannette." He scooted quickly into the doors, making Jeannette wait outside while he presented her.
***In the throne-room of Barad-dûr***
Sauron leaned his head onto his hand, his elbow strategically placed on the cushioned arm of his throne. *Mom says I look sexiest this way,* he thought. His beauty would have to used to his advantage to win this Mary- Sue over - and it would be insanely difficult.
"The Lady Jeannette," Nelson said, that stupid helmet - no matter how imposing it was to the occasional visitor, Sauron always thought it the most pointless thing in Middle-Earth - tilting in the wrong direction. *Idiot,* he thought. *Can't even wear a war helmet right!*
"Send her in," the Dark Lord said, idly waving his hand. *You're hot,* he assured himself. *There's no one hotter than you, baby. You just have to know it!* "Tell her that I am waiting."
Nelson bowed, and Sauron considered what exactly he was planning to say. *Tell her that she's ravishing! Yes, yes, that's good.* He mentally patted himself on the back for his wonderful ideas. *Mom would be so proud of you, Gorthy!* The sound of a woman clearing her throat started him from his immensely important reveries. "Oh, hello, Mary-Sue."
That put Jeannette over the edge. "MY NAME IS NOT MARY-SUE!" she shouted. "AND I'M VERY ANGRY WITH YOU! WHO GAVE YOU PERMISSION TO KIDNAP ME IN THE MIDDLE OF LOVE-MAKING?" She marched straight up to Sauron and hit him on the face. "AND YOU DESERVED THAT!" she added, still at the top of her lungs.
"Whoa," Sauron said, gingerly touching the red mark on his otherwise beautiful face. "Hold on, there. I know your name isn't Mary-Sue; it's just what you are."
"I see," Jeannette said, and Sauron envied her obvious intelligence. However, because I am the author and I know all, I will tell you that Jeannette was lying, and that she had absolutely no idea of what a Mary-Sue was. Therefore, Sauron was envying something that didn't exist. Anyways, let us continue.
"Good," Sauron said. "That saves me the trouble of explaining it." He returned to his 'I'm-So-Ravishingly-Sexy-Fall-In-Love-With-Me' pose. "Now, where is the Ring?"
"I don't have it," replied Jeannette. "Frodo does." She didn't seem to realize what a heavy blow she had just dealt the Dark Lord. A Hobbit had the Ring of Power? Then why wasn't a shriveled little Gollum-creature writhing at his feet right then? Why weren't the Nazgul thundering back to Minas Morgul with a Halfling in tow? This wasn't right!
"WHAT?" he roared. "A HALFLING HAS MY RING?!?!"
Jeannette shrugged casually. "Yup," she said. "Now can I go?" She appeared poised to leave, but Sauron's roar stopped her in her tracks.
"NO! A HALFING HAS MY RING! AND I WANT IT BACK!" He pointed angrily at Nelson; a ball of fire flew from his fingers and tried to consume the Mouth of Sauron. When the flames died away, Nelson was still there and very much alive. Sauron saw him glance at Jeannette and mouth 'Thank God for the helmet. Isn't it cool?' Nelson had absolutely no skill at all. Smoothing his already spiked hair, and pricking his thumb for the effort, Sauron settled himself into his throne and stared directly at Jeannette. "A Halfling has my Ring," he said. "And I understand that you were traveling with this group that they call 'The Fellowship of the Ring'."
Jeannette bowed her head, and Sauron realized exactly how pretty she was. "Yes," she said in a mournful voice. "Not even all the tears of Middle Earth can keep a Princess of Mirkwood."
"Whoa," Sauron said, interrupting her. "You're a Princess of Mirkwood? When did the Stick get married?" He immediately realized that calling Legolas 'the Stick' had been a huge mistake.
"Why does everybody make fun of Legsy?" Jeannette asked softly, swaying up to Sauron. *Oooooh,* he thought. *Tough cookies!* "Is he really that bad?"
Sauron saw the opening, and, despite the emotional distress it would cause Jeannette, said, "Yes, indeed." Jeannette's mouth opened to disagree, but he overrode her. The girl needed to hear this - it would turn her to his cause. "Legolas." Sauron heaved a sigh, as if mourning for the Elven- prince. "He is under the influence of the terrible weed called "The Precious".
"No," Jeannette said. She was obviously breaking under the terrible news. "It cannot be! My precious Legolas!"
"It is true," he said, placing a hand over his heart. "You have my condolences, my Lady." There; that was the end of his speech, and if she didn't come, crying, running into his arms, he would renounce his title as the "Dark Lord of Middle Earth" and go prancing off to Valinor. Heck, maybe Arien would even give him another go at it. But his thoughts were interrupted by Jeannette running into his arms, crying. "There, there," he murmured into her hair. By the Void, it smelled good. What conditioner did she use? "Nobody's perfect." *Except for Mary-Sues,* he admitted mentally. *But what the heck. She'll get me my Ring.*