Sauron sits on his Throne, reading the newly published works of a man called J.J.R. Tollcoin. A book called 'The Habit' sits on his lap, finished, while he reads a thick copy of 'The Lord Of The Earrings'. Sauron, an avid reader, is half way through. I knew I should have made them earrings, he thinks to himself. This Dark Lord Sourwren guy is kicking those pesky Habit's asses!

A knock at the door interrupts his reading. Sauron says, "Enter," and puts down the book.

In walks an orc, dour faced and obviously uncomfortable in the Dark Lord's presence. "Lord Sauron, I have those reports for you," he says.

"Thank you, Grizlok," answers the Dark Lord, equally uncomfortable. "You can leave them on my desk."

Without answering, the orc places the papers on the desk and turns to leave.

"Wait," says Sauron. "I think we need to talk."

"Yes, Lord Sauron?" answers the orc, turning back.

"Yes indeed. Things have gotten weird between us since that night. Very formal. I don't like it," states Sauron.

A long pause of awkward silence between them fills the empty room. Finally, Grizlok answers.

"I'm not gay," he says.

"What?"

"I'm not gay," he repeats.

"I never said you were," answers Sauron in return.

"Well, after that night, I thought you might think I was gay or something."

"Oh that. Well, that was several chapters ago. I can't even remember what happened," says the Dark Lord. "Do you?"

Grizlok shakes his head, "No."

"Good," says Sauron.

"Good," agrees Grizlok.

More silence follows. Sauron and Grizlok avoid each other's eyes. Finally, Sauron breaks this particular bout of silence.

"I'm not gay either," he says.

"No?" asks Grizlok.

"No!" insists the Dark Lord.

"Phew, what a relief!" admits Grizlok. "I was concerned you wanted to start a relationship of something."

"Hell no," laughs Sauron. "I'm not that kind of Dark Lord..."

They laugh together, the awkwardness dispelled at last.

"Okay, that's good! Fluffy, bring those reports over here and let's go through them together," says the Dark Lord.

"With pleasure, Lord Snookums," agrees the orc, picking them up and approaching the Throne. Pulling up a small foot stool, he sits and goes through the first list and starts reading. "Apparently orc production is on schedule. The new model is working out well. Even the new warg-skin outfits you designed are proving very popular with the men."

"Excellent," says Sauron.

"And the balrog's handicap has improved by two strokes." A quizzical look from Sauron causes the orc to respond, "He's been at the driving range practising."

"And what of the new recruits?" Sauron asks. "Our Kenneths."

"The Nancy Boys?" asks Grizlok. Sauron chuckles in reply while Grizlok continues, "Well, it seems they bought your 'Nazgul' story. That was a good one!" he laughs. "What the hell does Nazgul mean, anyway?"

"I have no idea," laughs Sauron. "I was trying to think of something nasty to call them, and I thought 'nasty'? 'Nazgul'? Sounds like something from the dark, Black Speech of Mordor to me!"

"Quick thinking!" commends Grizlok.

"Thanks," says Sauron, clapping the orc on the shoulder. "Don't let on that Kenneth really does mean Nancy Boy. They might try to wangle their out of the contract."

"Don't worry, I wont. Me and the other orcs think it's hilarious." And they both laugh out loud for several minutes, leaning on each other to support themselves. Finally they disengage, wiping away the tears of laughter.

As they recover, Grizlok turns to Sauron and says, "I'm not gay."

"Would you stop saying that!" Sauron insists. "Not that there's anything wrong with that," he adds.

"No, not at all," responds Grizlok politically correctly.

"You guys are sick," comes a disembodied voice.

Sauron and Grizlok look at each other. Sauron says, "Did you hear that?" Grizlok nods. "Who was it?"

"It's me, the author," responds me, the author.

"Oh, so that's why we're out of character all the time!" realizes Sauron, "Some loser in the real world is writing our dialogue and putting us in weird situations that we'd otherwise never be in!" Grizlok cowers behind Sauron, clearly not understanding.

"Is that the great god Morgoth?" the orc asks timidly.

"No, no, it's just some dude writing a story during working hours, when he should be doing what he's paid to do," explains the Dark Lord, giving the disembodied voice a stern look.

The author blushes, replying, "Um, well, yes, you got me there."

"And another thing, Biggstrek - that is your name, isn't it?" The disembodied voice nods in reply - not that anyone can see it, but they can read it, "What's all this gay rubbish all about, anyway?"

"Hey don't look at me, I'm married!" says Biggstrek. "I just write it as I see it, kiddo."

Grizlok suddenly rushes out from behind Sauron, falls to his knees and starts genuflecting to the disembodied voice, "Oh great Dark Lord Biggstrek! How may be serve you, Oh Great One!?"

Sauron rolls his eyes and gives Grizlok a quick kick in the pants. "Stop that genuflecting nonsense. No-one even knows what genuflecting means, anyway."

"You're right there," agrees Biggstrek the author.

Grizlok scurries away, leaving Sauron alone with the voice. They share their own awkward silence together, each with their own thoughts. Eventually, the silence is broken by Sauron.

"I'm not gay," he states.

"Oh. My. God." cries the author. "I'm outa here!"