Grizlok came rushing into the Throne room. Trying to stop, he planted his feet firmly onto the rugs and furs strewn across the floor, but instead went flying across the room. Before he knew it, the orc was cart wheeling out the window and gone.

"What was that?" asked Sauron to himself, looking up.

Moments later, the orc returned and came into the room in a more dignified manner, carefully avoiding any slippery objects on the floor.

"Lord Snookums! A wizard is approaching! We're all dooooomed! Run while you can!" he screamed.

The Dark Lord Sauron put down the last of the Tollcoin books in his collection, 'The Silly Million', and said, "Don't exaggerate, Fluffy. There's only two 'ohs' in 'doomed'."

"Then we're okay?" hoped the orc.

"Oh no, we're doomed alright. I was just correcting your Black Speech." With that, Sauron stood up and stretched, paused a moment longer, then panicked. "A WIZARD! Quick, hide!"

The orc and Dark Lord ran round the room in a whirl, looking for a place to hide. Grizlok grabbed a lamp shade and put it on his head as a disguise. But Sauron grabbed him, saying, "No time for party games, Fluffy. To the closet!" And they ran for the small door to the Throne room's closet.

Shutting the door behind them, Sauron cautioned, "Watch out for bowling balls on the top shelf..." But then a fierce knocking on the outer door was heard. When no-one answered, there came a terrific crash as the door was split asunder. Foot steps soon followed as the wizard entered the Throne room. Step, step, step, step, sliiiiiiiiip... the wizard cart wheeled out the window in Grizlok fashion.

Sauron and Grizlok giggled from within the closet, watching the wizard's antics through the keyhole. Sauron asked, "Which wizard is it, anyway? I could only see his back from here."

The orc answered, "They call him Gandalf, Incánus, Olórin, Tharkûn, Mithrandir..." But Sauron interrupted him.

"You're kidding, right?" he asked.

"No, no, I did my research. Went to Shelob's Website and checked it out," replied Grizlok. The audience groans.

Sauron shook his head, "You're worse than me..."

But before the orc could refute the accusation, the wizard re-entered the Throne room, bellowing, "Where are you, foul demon lover of the night?! Show yourself so I smite thee with my staff!"

Sauron opened the closet door, much to the distress of Grizlok, who tried desperately to cover himself in old copies of the Orc Quarterly. The Dark Lord stepped into the Throne room, standing straight and tall.

"Here I stand, oh foolish spell weaver and cheap illusionist!" declared Sauron. "Conjurer of worms, you are not fit to entertain a children's party!"

Gandalf turned about dramatically, his grey robes swishing and swirling in perfect unison, a grimace on his face. He reached into his clothing, pulled out a short wooden rod, thumbed the edge of it, causing it to extended into a staff his own height. Gandalf pointed the fancy staff at Sauron and spat, "YOU! You have tied your last balloon animal! Prepare to meet your fate, pervader of nastiness and doer of bad deeds!"

The two would-be combatants approached one another, each making threatening sounds, rumbling their voices and hissing in melodramatic style. Soon they stood face to face, inches apart, each with a snarl on their lips. They stood their, eyeing each other, trying to outstare their opponent. For minute after minute they stared at each other, until finally Sauron had to blink and laugh.

"Gandy!" he cried. "You win!"

"Saury!" replied the wizard, smiling. "I always do!" And the two embraced, hugging each other and laughing.

Grizlok eventually found the courage to peek out of the closet. Seeing the two laughing, he asked, "What the heck is going on here?"

"We're old buddies," replied Sauron. "We went to magic school together. Gandy's my old roomie!"

Grizlok slapped his head. "Great," he mumbled sarcastically to himself. "Another one..."