DUDE WHERE'S MY BODY? Chapter 2...
"Y'know, sir, there are some elves--"
"DON'T talk to me about elves!" Sauron clutched his armrests of his black throne feverishly. It had been hundreds of years since the Valar had attacked, but Sauron still despised the Eldar, and even more so the Edain in their pretty new island of Númenor.
"But sir, these ones have some really pretty--"
"Shagbag, I am not ordering you anything more from Imladris Today!" Sauron screamed at the orc captain.
"No, sir, I'm thinking of YOU," the orc continued earnestly. Sauron's flattery-sensitive eybrow rose a little and the orc continued, encouraged by this sign. "They're making these rings in Hollin, with the Dwarves in Khazhad-dum...they're, like, rings of power, sir, they give the one who wears them...well...power!"
"Do they really?" Sauron said, stroking his strong jawline thoughtfully.
"They do, sir!"
Sauron shot the goblin a dispassionate glare - the bloody creatures couldn't even recognise a rhetorical question when it came up and asked itself to them. "I must visit Celebrimbor! Fetch me my 'fair' body, will you, Shagbag? These elves won't trust me if I look like some Dark Lord now, will they?"
***
"Oh? And why should I let you see the forging of one of my rings, let alone the recipe book?" The blonde elf looked haughtily down Sauron's top.
"But Mr. Silver, Ah jus want to know how you can make something so...beautiful...if you need to use your own beauty ah can only wonder at the beauty surpassing you must have had before you started making rings, if you're still so beautiful now!" Sauron broke off, his falsetto voice echoing like a sigh. Unfortunately, Shagbag had brought his 'femmy' body, not his 'fair' one, and now he stood in front of the mastercraftself, twirling a dark strand of hair and pretending not to notice the fact that Celebrimbor's nose was getting dangerously close to ticking Sauron's collarbone as he performed 'cleavage-diving' in its most raw form.
"Umm...yeah...me too..." the puzzled elf said. "You do know we gotta search you before you go in, though? And it will have to be a...personal tour, as I won't let anyone else in..."
"Ah understand." Sauron looked solemnly up at the elf, while shuddering inside.
***
"Ah'd like t'order...seven of them...and nine of them...and ah'd say...seventeen of those ones with the jewels..."
"My pleasure..." Celebrimbor grinned toothily down at Sauron's cleavage.
Straightening the seam on his purple skirt, Sauron tottered out of Khazhad-dum, his stiletto heels not the only things beginning to chafe.
***
"Package, sir!"
Sauron tore the box from Shagbag's hand, shaking it a little before ripping off the brown paper. Inside the package were many jewellry boxes, seven in dark red felt, nine in black, and seventeen in navy. "Wonderful!" Sauron breathed, noting the little gold-plated plaques on each one for a name to be put on them.
Sauron was up very late that night, engraving the names of elves and dwarves and men on each plaque. It was increasingly hard for him to concentrate however, as the glitterball he'd bought for Shagbag from Imladris Today was getting a good deal of use from the orcs out on the plains of Gorgoroth. Colours ranging from cyan to neon pink were sparkling and dashing through the black tattered curtains drawn over Sauron's window until all hours.
***
Every ring Sauron had ordered he tweaked just a little with his own dark powers, making them all servants of one that had yet to be forged. Then he went to his wardrobe and pulled out his femmy body. Lifting the mini-skirt a little, Sauron pulled Celebrimbor's recipe book out of the left stocking and skipped gleefully off to his private kitchen in Mount Doom.
The book had recipes for many things - mithril, lembas, elvish hair dye - but the thing Sauron wanted was right at the back of the book, under the heading 'One Ring to Rule them All.' Funky name, Sauron thought. Maybe I'll have that engraved...
So the second Dark Lord donned his apron (which had once read 'kiss the cook,' but now bore the order, 'kiss the Dark Lord's ass') and his thick oven gloves. He brandished his list of ingredients and checked his supplies. "One pound of Hobbit weed...check. One Dwarf...check. One potatoe...check. Three ounces of sugar...check. All my malice...check. All my cruelty...check. All my will to dominate...check!" With that, Sauron set his egg-timer and flung the ingredients into the fires of Mount Doom.
Meanwhile, as Sauron paced impatiently, Celebrimbor arrived at the front door, hiding a bunch of flowers behind his back and hoping to relive a certain experience. Dry ice in the corners of Orodruin began to sublime, making the chamber thick with its fog. Just as the mountain gave a great belch and the One Ring popped out, Celebrimbor sauntered into the murky room.
Giggling like a schoolgirl, Sauron juggled the Ring,
"Abra*choo* Kada*ah-choo* bra*hahaha-choo!" he cried, sneezing from the excessive amount of dry ice.
Unfortunately, Celebrimbor heard this as 'Azg nazg gimbatul' and dropped his posy of flowers in horror, fleeing the lands as fast as his delicate elven feet would carry him.
Sauron turned round in surprise, still rubbing his nose from all the sneezing. "Shagbag? Was that you?" he called, then upon seeing the bunch of flowers his face darkened. "So, it is time to put my little plan into action..."
***
"Sir, there's a really gothic bunch of men at the door..." Shagbag whined.
"I know," his master said pleasantly. "Let them in, then!"
Shagbag cautiously pulled the door open and stood in the shadows as nine tall warriors entered, all garbed in dastardly looking metal armour and flowing black tattered robes.
"Gentlemen!" Sauron cried, clapping his palms together with glee. "I trust we are all happy with our presents then?"
Several of the creatures let out piercing shrieks or wails of agony and Sauron's toothy grin broadened. "Good, good! Now I have a little task for you, my Nazgul..."
"Y'know, sir, there are some elves--"
"DON'T talk to me about elves!" Sauron clutched his armrests of his black throne feverishly. It had been hundreds of years since the Valar had attacked, but Sauron still despised the Eldar, and even more so the Edain in their pretty new island of Númenor.
"But sir, these ones have some really pretty--"
"Shagbag, I am not ordering you anything more from Imladris Today!" Sauron screamed at the orc captain.
"No, sir, I'm thinking of YOU," the orc continued earnestly. Sauron's flattery-sensitive eybrow rose a little and the orc continued, encouraged by this sign. "They're making these rings in Hollin, with the Dwarves in Khazhad-dum...they're, like, rings of power, sir, they give the one who wears them...well...power!"
"Do they really?" Sauron said, stroking his strong jawline thoughtfully.
"They do, sir!"
Sauron shot the goblin a dispassionate glare - the bloody creatures couldn't even recognise a rhetorical question when it came up and asked itself to them. "I must visit Celebrimbor! Fetch me my 'fair' body, will you, Shagbag? These elves won't trust me if I look like some Dark Lord now, will they?"
***
"Oh? And why should I let you see the forging of one of my rings, let alone the recipe book?" The blonde elf looked haughtily down Sauron's top.
"But Mr. Silver, Ah jus want to know how you can make something so...beautiful...if you need to use your own beauty ah can only wonder at the beauty surpassing you must have had before you started making rings, if you're still so beautiful now!" Sauron broke off, his falsetto voice echoing like a sigh. Unfortunately, Shagbag had brought his 'femmy' body, not his 'fair' one, and now he stood in front of the mastercraftself, twirling a dark strand of hair and pretending not to notice the fact that Celebrimbor's nose was getting dangerously close to ticking Sauron's collarbone as he performed 'cleavage-diving' in its most raw form.
"Umm...yeah...me too..." the puzzled elf said. "You do know we gotta search you before you go in, though? And it will have to be a...personal tour, as I won't let anyone else in..."
"Ah understand." Sauron looked solemnly up at the elf, while shuddering inside.
***
"Ah'd like t'order...seven of them...and nine of them...and ah'd say...seventeen of those ones with the jewels..."
"My pleasure..." Celebrimbor grinned toothily down at Sauron's cleavage.
Straightening the seam on his purple skirt, Sauron tottered out of Khazhad-dum, his stiletto heels not the only things beginning to chafe.
***
"Package, sir!"
Sauron tore the box from Shagbag's hand, shaking it a little before ripping off the brown paper. Inside the package were many jewellry boxes, seven in dark red felt, nine in black, and seventeen in navy. "Wonderful!" Sauron breathed, noting the little gold-plated plaques on each one for a name to be put on them.
Sauron was up very late that night, engraving the names of elves and dwarves and men on each plaque. It was increasingly hard for him to concentrate however, as the glitterball he'd bought for Shagbag from Imladris Today was getting a good deal of use from the orcs out on the plains of Gorgoroth. Colours ranging from cyan to neon pink were sparkling and dashing through the black tattered curtains drawn over Sauron's window until all hours.
***
Every ring Sauron had ordered he tweaked just a little with his own dark powers, making them all servants of one that had yet to be forged. Then he went to his wardrobe and pulled out his femmy body. Lifting the mini-skirt a little, Sauron pulled Celebrimbor's recipe book out of the left stocking and skipped gleefully off to his private kitchen in Mount Doom.
The book had recipes for many things - mithril, lembas, elvish hair dye - but the thing Sauron wanted was right at the back of the book, under the heading 'One Ring to Rule them All.' Funky name, Sauron thought. Maybe I'll have that engraved...
So the second Dark Lord donned his apron (which had once read 'kiss the cook,' but now bore the order, 'kiss the Dark Lord's ass') and his thick oven gloves. He brandished his list of ingredients and checked his supplies. "One pound of Hobbit weed...check. One Dwarf...check. One potatoe...check. Three ounces of sugar...check. All my malice...check. All my cruelty...check. All my will to dominate...check!" With that, Sauron set his egg-timer and flung the ingredients into the fires of Mount Doom.
Meanwhile, as Sauron paced impatiently, Celebrimbor arrived at the front door, hiding a bunch of flowers behind his back and hoping to relive a certain experience. Dry ice in the corners of Orodruin began to sublime, making the chamber thick with its fog. Just as the mountain gave a great belch and the One Ring popped out, Celebrimbor sauntered into the murky room.
Giggling like a schoolgirl, Sauron juggled the Ring,
"Abra*choo* Kada*ah-choo* bra*hahaha-choo!" he cried, sneezing from the excessive amount of dry ice.
Unfortunately, Celebrimbor heard this as 'Azg nazg gimbatul' and dropped his posy of flowers in horror, fleeing the lands as fast as his delicate elven feet would carry him.
Sauron turned round in surprise, still rubbing his nose from all the sneezing. "Shagbag? Was that you?" he called, then upon seeing the bunch of flowers his face darkened. "So, it is time to put my little plan into action..."
***
"Sir, there's a really gothic bunch of men at the door..." Shagbag whined.
"I know," his master said pleasantly. "Let them in, then!"
Shagbag cautiously pulled the door open and stood in the shadows as nine tall warriors entered, all garbed in dastardly looking metal armour and flowing black tattered robes.
"Gentlemen!" Sauron cried, clapping his palms together with glee. "I trust we are all happy with our presents then?"
Several of the creatures let out piercing shrieks or wails of agony and Sauron's toothy grin broadened. "Good, good! Now I have a little task for you, my Nazgul..."