DUDE, WHERE'S MY BODY/ANY REFERENCE TO MY BODY IN ANY OF THIS?
Warning: Includes Crossdressing!Sauron, Pervy!Celebrimbor, and N'Orleans!Melkor. And an orc called Shagbag. Imagine Melkor's accent as something similar to Styrker's in X2...Oh, and cross-dressing Sauron sounds like Maylin Monroe, but normal Sauron sounds like Richard E. Grant, okay?
Dude...
"Sir, ah have an awesome preposition fo you..."
Sauron eyed the shady-looking guy in front of him. He'd not met any salesmen as yet, having only just been created, but he sure didn't like to trust the weirdo in black. "I'm listening..." he said mistrustfully.
The fellow snapped his fingers and several nearby mountains collapsed, a snowstorm kicked up over the sea and it started to rain fire. "Mah name's Melkor," he said in his lazy New Orleans drawl. "And ah don' like them Valar being in charge of an Earth that's more mine than theirs. Ah like to torture things, burn things, and freeze things. Now ah hear y'all are one of the most powerful Maiar on Arda..." The flattery was already beginning to work. Sauron felt a proud eyebrow raise. "And ah need some good ol buddies t' guard mah...maison while ah'm out torturin an burnin an freezin...yo see? Ah pay well, ah assure yo."
"And what do I get in return?" Sauron asked in his prescice, clipped English tones, straightening his suit with dignity.
Melkor shrugged. "Ah can make yo a fancy new body...free with fire and bull whip...y'all also get promoted to the rank of Balrog, boy."
Balrog? Sauron rather liked the sound of that. He checked his gold pocket watch before closing it with a snap and extending a hand towards his new boss.
***
"Sooo tedious...so tedious..."
"What did you say my Lord?"
"Sod off." Sauron threw a handy werewolf at the simpering orc in his doorway. When the clattering and snarling ceased, he resumed tapping his well-manicured fingernails on the armrest of his throne.
It was all very well and good making Angband SO terrifying and SO scary and SO evil from the outside, but it did mean that no-one was silly enough to pay him a visit, and Sauron was getting decidedly bored.
He had been amusing himself for the past several hundred years by making a super-breed of killer wolves, and perfecting his shapeshifting. He was currently most fond of his 'Dracula' costume, which he donned whenever he was feeling either a) hungry or b) angsty.
Finally getting bored of tapping out the rhythm to the really good Song of Power he'd just heard on Beleriand FM, Sauron got up in a melodramatic huff and went to his spy-tower to see if there were any upcoming performances of Silmarillion: The Musical at the nearby Nargothrond Theatre.
Instead of that, though, he found a rather odd band of orcs nancing past his tower. Well, most of them were nancing. One was hanging back, admiring the ass on the front orc. Sauron opened his window and hollered down at them some of the lyrics to the song he'd been listening to:
Oi you show yerself!
You're no orc of mine!
Oi you reveal yourself!
Or else on you I'll dine!
The lead orc stopped, and the one who'd been admiring his ass walked straight into him. Some of the others tittered and ran their fingers through their greasy hair. Sauron eyed them suspiciously; orcs did not titter.
Sauron was just about to start singing again when the lead orc called up in a clear voice:
Daddy I'm your orc
Don't be foolish!
Baddy to the bone
I'm your orc to the finish!
"Hmm, you're good..." Sauron admitted. However, he still wasn't sure of the way one of the orcs was filing his toenails.
You lying little pixie!
You're no orc of mine!
Don't you be so tricksy!
I see your game, sunshine!
The orc thought for a moment, then began to sway on the spot. The others joined in (except for the one at the back, who was now drooling as he watched the others dance). They looked like a gospel choir.
No, father dear, no my Lord!
We're your orcs, yes we're your orcs!
Melkor-mmm, Melkor-he's the one we serve!
Sauron-mmm, Sauron-we're true to our words!
I don't trust a manicured orc!
You're no goblins of mine!
I'll pull your ears off with a fork!
Impersonating's a crime!
Mmm, Sauron! Yeah, Sauron!
Weeeee love Sauron!
Aaaall hail Sauron!
The orcs proceeded to dance, until they formed a conga line gradually dancing further away from Angband. Unfortunately, the ogling orc got in the way, and they all tripped over him, falling into a heap of wails and confusion.
"Waaaah! I think I broke a nail!"
Sauron did a double take. Those weren't orcs - they were elves! Quickly he sent out some real orcs to round them up and throw them in a dark pit surrounded by werewolves.
***
"Finrod Felagund...this is more exciting that I could have imagined!" Sauron clapped his hands in glee and peered down at the piqued Elven King. "Hey, you're a bit hairy for an Elf! What the hell are you doing here?"
The being whom Sauron was adressing tore his eyes away from the King's ass and wiped some drool from his stubble. "Uh? Wur? I'm Be-"
"He's Berrybrains, a human of um...Arnor!" Finrod chimed in.
"And what's he doing with a bunch of elves who are pretending to be a travelling band of gospel orcs?"
Finrod smirked. "I'm afriad the only one who knew the answer to that question was my second-in-command, who has just been devoured by yon beast." He pointed to a fat werewolf, which belched in satisfaction.
"Bloody useless mongrels..." Sauron growled, thwapping the canine across the snout with his fiery bullwhip. At the sight of this instrument of torture the Elves cowered, but Berrybrains still drooled and stared. Sauron looked upon them all with scorn, but as he wheeled about and left the chamber, he was thinking to himself what fun he'd have with this lot...
***
"What do you mean 'you ate them all?'" Sauron stared at the wolf in disbelief.
"Growl-grrrrrrrrowl! Grrrrrr!"
"Your tummy was growling? I give UP!" He flung his arms in the air and turned to his window, fed up of dealing with such incompetants.
"Whimper, whine!"
"Which two?"
"Hoooooooowl! Ruff!"
"Finrod and Berrybrains. Hmm. Maybe I'll go torture the elf a bit." Sauron kicked the werewolf as he passed it, heading towards the pit again, relieved that the lunch-happy animal had left two captives alive.
***
"What do you mean 'he just died?'" Sauron stared at the stubbly human in disbelief.
Berrybrains shrugged. He was kneeling next to the body of the Elven King, his gaze still fixed on the Elf's backside. "Jus' did. Guess 'e was all shagged out."
"All sha--Oh forget it!" Sauron huffed, raising his bullwhip to the senseless human.
La la la, la la la la la,
la la la, la la la la laa!
I just can't get you outta my head,
Man your stubble is all I dream about.
I just can't get you out of my bed,
Your stubble's more than I care to think about...
Sauron stopped mid-lash, cursing as the firey tip of his instrument landed on his back. "What in Emyn Gorgoroth is THAT?"
Berrybrains broke into a grin, and ran arms outstretched towards the sound of the music. He was quickly arrested in his progress by the wall of the pit, and with a 'thock' fell backwards in a daze, landing on top of Finrod's body.
Sauron headed to his front door, and opened it to see - much to his outrage - a field of dead werewolves, and an Elvish maiden cowering behind a huge hunting dog. "EEEE, Huan, it's DISGUSTING! Please kill it!" she squealed, pointing at Sauron.
"Now hold on a bloody second--!" but it was too late for talk, and the dog was upon him, pinning him down by the neck. It looked towards its mistress for instructions.
Lúthien peered down at the form of Sauron. "Right, you. Either you let me wreck your home and skidaddle back to Mommy Morgoth, or Huan here decaptiates you."
"You can wreck my home. No, really!" Sauron choked before pushing the infernal hound off his chest and turning into a vampire with a sound like 'bamf!' He glared down at Lúthien and Huan as he fluttered northwards to where Melkor - also known as Morgoth Bauglir - now resided.
***
"Oh shit. Lord, you are not going to like this."
"Oh? What is there not to like, Sauron? Ah still have two Silmarils, ah just kicked the collective asses of the combined Eldar/Edain army, and there are only two sons of Feanor left. Plus the new elven king is too far away to even know where ah live."
"Well, you're not going to like it, Your Grace, but there's a new army. This one not only includes 'Eldar' and 'Edain' as you so charmingly put it, but the other eight Valar. They've just sailed across the sea in boats built by the Teleri. Ooh! Ooops - there goes all our orcs...oh dear! The other Balrogs are sure getting a hard time! Oh - and those dragons are screwed. They're also making one hell of a mess of your front lawn, Melkor."
"Thank you fo that...detailed assessment, Sauron. Now get yo flamin ass out there and defend mah gates!"
"Ah...yes, of course, Lord." Sauron bowed stiffly and strutted forth from the back door. Casting a swift glance over his shoulder he ran as fast as he could into the land of Arnor, before crashing southwards, glancing at the trees of Greenwood as he passed. That would be a cool place for a creepy castle... he thought. Soon he reached Mordor, a land perfect for his current needs.
Warning: Includes Crossdressing!Sauron, Pervy!Celebrimbor, and N'Orleans!Melkor. And an orc called Shagbag. Imagine Melkor's accent as something similar to Styrker's in X2...Oh, and cross-dressing Sauron sounds like Maylin Monroe, but normal Sauron sounds like Richard E. Grant, okay?
Dude...
"Sir, ah have an awesome preposition fo you..."
Sauron eyed the shady-looking guy in front of him. He'd not met any salesmen as yet, having only just been created, but he sure didn't like to trust the weirdo in black. "I'm listening..." he said mistrustfully.
The fellow snapped his fingers and several nearby mountains collapsed, a snowstorm kicked up over the sea and it started to rain fire. "Mah name's Melkor," he said in his lazy New Orleans drawl. "And ah don' like them Valar being in charge of an Earth that's more mine than theirs. Ah like to torture things, burn things, and freeze things. Now ah hear y'all are one of the most powerful Maiar on Arda..." The flattery was already beginning to work. Sauron felt a proud eyebrow raise. "And ah need some good ol buddies t' guard mah...maison while ah'm out torturin an burnin an freezin...yo see? Ah pay well, ah assure yo."
"And what do I get in return?" Sauron asked in his prescice, clipped English tones, straightening his suit with dignity.
Melkor shrugged. "Ah can make yo a fancy new body...free with fire and bull whip...y'all also get promoted to the rank of Balrog, boy."
Balrog? Sauron rather liked the sound of that. He checked his gold pocket watch before closing it with a snap and extending a hand towards his new boss.
***
"Sooo tedious...so tedious..."
"What did you say my Lord?"
"Sod off." Sauron threw a handy werewolf at the simpering orc in his doorway. When the clattering and snarling ceased, he resumed tapping his well-manicured fingernails on the armrest of his throne.
It was all very well and good making Angband SO terrifying and SO scary and SO evil from the outside, but it did mean that no-one was silly enough to pay him a visit, and Sauron was getting decidedly bored.
He had been amusing himself for the past several hundred years by making a super-breed of killer wolves, and perfecting his shapeshifting. He was currently most fond of his 'Dracula' costume, which he donned whenever he was feeling either a) hungry or b) angsty.
Finally getting bored of tapping out the rhythm to the really good Song of Power he'd just heard on Beleriand FM, Sauron got up in a melodramatic huff and went to his spy-tower to see if there were any upcoming performances of Silmarillion: The Musical at the nearby Nargothrond Theatre.
Instead of that, though, he found a rather odd band of orcs nancing past his tower. Well, most of them were nancing. One was hanging back, admiring the ass on the front orc. Sauron opened his window and hollered down at them some of the lyrics to the song he'd been listening to:
Oi you show yerself!
You're no orc of mine!
Oi you reveal yourself!
Or else on you I'll dine!
The lead orc stopped, and the one who'd been admiring his ass walked straight into him. Some of the others tittered and ran their fingers through their greasy hair. Sauron eyed them suspiciously; orcs did not titter.
Sauron was just about to start singing again when the lead orc called up in a clear voice:
Daddy I'm your orc
Don't be foolish!
Baddy to the bone
I'm your orc to the finish!
"Hmm, you're good..." Sauron admitted. However, he still wasn't sure of the way one of the orcs was filing his toenails.
You lying little pixie!
You're no orc of mine!
Don't you be so tricksy!
I see your game, sunshine!
The orc thought for a moment, then began to sway on the spot. The others joined in (except for the one at the back, who was now drooling as he watched the others dance). They looked like a gospel choir.
No, father dear, no my Lord!
We're your orcs, yes we're your orcs!
Melkor-mmm, Melkor-he's the one we serve!
Sauron-mmm, Sauron-we're true to our words!
I don't trust a manicured orc!
You're no goblins of mine!
I'll pull your ears off with a fork!
Impersonating's a crime!
Mmm, Sauron! Yeah, Sauron!
Weeeee love Sauron!
Aaaall hail Sauron!
The orcs proceeded to dance, until they formed a conga line gradually dancing further away from Angband. Unfortunately, the ogling orc got in the way, and they all tripped over him, falling into a heap of wails and confusion.
"Waaaah! I think I broke a nail!"
Sauron did a double take. Those weren't orcs - they were elves! Quickly he sent out some real orcs to round them up and throw them in a dark pit surrounded by werewolves.
***
"Finrod Felagund...this is more exciting that I could have imagined!" Sauron clapped his hands in glee and peered down at the piqued Elven King. "Hey, you're a bit hairy for an Elf! What the hell are you doing here?"
The being whom Sauron was adressing tore his eyes away from the King's ass and wiped some drool from his stubble. "Uh? Wur? I'm Be-"
"He's Berrybrains, a human of um...Arnor!" Finrod chimed in.
"And what's he doing with a bunch of elves who are pretending to be a travelling band of gospel orcs?"
Finrod smirked. "I'm afriad the only one who knew the answer to that question was my second-in-command, who has just been devoured by yon beast." He pointed to a fat werewolf, which belched in satisfaction.
"Bloody useless mongrels..." Sauron growled, thwapping the canine across the snout with his fiery bullwhip. At the sight of this instrument of torture the Elves cowered, but Berrybrains still drooled and stared. Sauron looked upon them all with scorn, but as he wheeled about and left the chamber, he was thinking to himself what fun he'd have with this lot...
***
"What do you mean 'you ate them all?'" Sauron stared at the wolf in disbelief.
"Growl-grrrrrrrrowl! Grrrrrr!"
"Your tummy was growling? I give UP!" He flung his arms in the air and turned to his window, fed up of dealing with such incompetants.
"Whimper, whine!"
"Which two?"
"Hoooooooowl! Ruff!"
"Finrod and Berrybrains. Hmm. Maybe I'll go torture the elf a bit." Sauron kicked the werewolf as he passed it, heading towards the pit again, relieved that the lunch-happy animal had left two captives alive.
***
"What do you mean 'he just died?'" Sauron stared at the stubbly human in disbelief.
Berrybrains shrugged. He was kneeling next to the body of the Elven King, his gaze still fixed on the Elf's backside. "Jus' did. Guess 'e was all shagged out."
"All sha--Oh forget it!" Sauron huffed, raising his bullwhip to the senseless human.
La la la, la la la la la,
la la la, la la la la laa!
I just can't get you outta my head,
Man your stubble is all I dream about.
I just can't get you out of my bed,
Your stubble's more than I care to think about...
Sauron stopped mid-lash, cursing as the firey tip of his instrument landed on his back. "What in Emyn Gorgoroth is THAT?"
Berrybrains broke into a grin, and ran arms outstretched towards the sound of the music. He was quickly arrested in his progress by the wall of the pit, and with a 'thock' fell backwards in a daze, landing on top of Finrod's body.
Sauron headed to his front door, and opened it to see - much to his outrage - a field of dead werewolves, and an Elvish maiden cowering behind a huge hunting dog. "EEEE, Huan, it's DISGUSTING! Please kill it!" she squealed, pointing at Sauron.
"Now hold on a bloody second--!" but it was too late for talk, and the dog was upon him, pinning him down by the neck. It looked towards its mistress for instructions.
Lúthien peered down at the form of Sauron. "Right, you. Either you let me wreck your home and skidaddle back to Mommy Morgoth, or Huan here decaptiates you."
"You can wreck my home. No, really!" Sauron choked before pushing the infernal hound off his chest and turning into a vampire with a sound like 'bamf!' He glared down at Lúthien and Huan as he fluttered northwards to where Melkor - also known as Morgoth Bauglir - now resided.
***
"Oh shit. Lord, you are not going to like this."
"Oh? What is there not to like, Sauron? Ah still have two Silmarils, ah just kicked the collective asses of the combined Eldar/Edain army, and there are only two sons of Feanor left. Plus the new elven king is too far away to even know where ah live."
"Well, you're not going to like it, Your Grace, but there's a new army. This one not only includes 'Eldar' and 'Edain' as you so charmingly put it, but the other eight Valar. They've just sailed across the sea in boats built by the Teleri. Ooh! Ooops - there goes all our orcs...oh dear! The other Balrogs are sure getting a hard time! Oh - and those dragons are screwed. They're also making one hell of a mess of your front lawn, Melkor."
"Thank you fo that...detailed assessment, Sauron. Now get yo flamin ass out there and defend mah gates!"
"Ah...yes, of course, Lord." Sauron bowed stiffly and strutted forth from the back door. Casting a swift glance over his shoulder he ran as fast as he could into the land of Arnor, before crashing southwards, glancing at the trees of Greenwood as he passed. That would be a cool place for a creepy castle... he thought. Soon he reached Mordor, a land perfect for his current needs.