The Dark Lord fumed... literally. Smoke and fire actually came jetting out from his nostrils. He was mad.
"You outsourced the Rings!?" he screamed incredulously. "You mean to tell me that the Rings won't be made here? That some pointy eared Elves," and said that last word with venom, "will make my Rings?"
The lead orc, sweat pouring from his slick, putrid face, nodded imperceptibly to his master, "Yes, Lord Snookums, we found it was cheaper to farm out these projects to low cost, off shore companies..." But he never finished his sentence. The Dark Lord reached a hand towards him, made a twisting motion and, in his best Darth Vader-esque move, crushed the orc's spine without even touching him physically.
"You call me Lord Sauron!" he demanded of the floating corpse, still suspended in his invisible grip. "I'm not very happy with you at all." And he dropped the orc to the ground. I really hate these budgetary cut-backs, he thought to himself.
All about him in the forging chamber of Orodruin, the orcs and trolls gathered about him gulped in unison. Each wondered if he was the next to suffer the fate of their captain. They desperately didn't want to be there, but each knew better then to attempt to leave their Dark Lord without permission. And so they all stood as silently as possible, many looking at their feet and some staring deliberately at the high ceiling, trying to avoid eye contact.
"Oh bother," said Sauron, "Now I'm in a bad mood." And he stamped his foot, took a deep breath and walked over to the largest troll in the chamber. The smoke and fire in him died out as he wiped his nose on his sleeve and pointed at the troll. "You," he said, gesticulating at the huge green creature, "What's your name?"
The big troll looked to his comrades for support, but they all shuffled slightly away from him, visibly relieved not to be in his shoes. He looked back at his master and said, "Um, er, oh, eck..." but he couldn't form a word.
Sauron rolled his eyes as if to say 'Why me?' He then realized his sleeve was on fire, and quickly smothered it, hoping no-one else had noticed. Fortunately, everyone seemed to find the ground or ceiling more interesting. "Never mind, I'll call you Dumbo. Come on Dumbo, I need you to help me." And he slapped the troll's arm in a familiar manner, leading him off to the huge forge overlooking a massive lava pit in the centre of the chamber.
How did he know my name? thought Dumbo the troll. But shrugged his massive shoulders and dutifully followed his lord.
Sauron commanded Dumbo, "I've gotta make my Ring today - at least the pencil pushers left me that much -, so you start pumping those bellows there, okay? Then we'll get started." And Dumbo nodded his head in understanding. The Dark lord went about gathering his materials and picking out the best tools, when he realized the troll was still standing there.
Sauron stared at Dumbo, as the troll stood still, staring back at him. "Sometime today would be nice, Dumbo," said Sauron sarcastically. But Dumbo just stood staring back at him, a troll-like ignorance all across his face.
"Oh. My. God." said Sauron in disbelief. "You see those big leathery wing-shaped things with the handles?" and pointed to the bellows the troll was almost leaning against. Dumbo nodded, looking at them. "Well, you grab the handles and you pump them. Up and down. It's pretty simple, you know." And again, Dumbo nodded in agreement. "Good, then hop to it."
And Dumbo leant to one side, lifted his right leg, and began hopping about the chamber.
Sauron slapped his forehead, but said nothing as Dumbo careened about the chamber, a dumb look of joy plastered across his face. The earth shook and small rocks rained from the chamber's ceiling as the huge troll pounded the ground again and again. It wasn't long before Dumbo hopped his way towards the lava pit, and jumped straight into the fiery liquid. The last thing anyone heard from Dumbo the troll was "Weeeee...." Splat. One roast troll.
All Sauron could say was, "Good help is so hard to find these days..." And summoned another troll.