Chapter 25: Mordor College

"And now course group lets endow with a lukewarm salutation to our new scholars, Eomer, Eowyn, Melpomaen (or Figwit), Faramir and Grima." Professor Goblin said, using very big and confusing words (being a college teacher after all).

"Salutations Eomer, Eowyn, Melpomaen (or Figwit), Faramir and Grima!" Said the class, which consisted mainly of goblins, orcs and Nazguls.

"New scholars please take the vacant seating." Professor Goblin told them.

"What does THAT mean?" The five asked.

"Go and sit down where you can." The goblin teacher whispered. The five all sat beside each other at a round table.

"Now course group, today we will be commerce with exponents, square roots, integers, algebra and fractions, just as a review. Master Grima, would you be bothered to tell us what the square root of thirty-six is?"

"I don't know." Grima shrugged. Professor Goblin shook his head sadly.

"Go to the principal's office." Professor Goblin said, pointing to the door. The other students laughed.

"Well then, Master Melpomaen, would you be concerned to tell us what one-hundred-ninety-nine to the exponent two-hundred-twenty is?" Professor Goblin asked.

"I'm not sure." Melpomaen sadly rose and left to go to the principal's office as he knew the professor would tell him to do.

"Well then… Eomer, what is the answer to this question if A is equal to 288, B is equal to 7966 and C is equal to .999?" Professor Goblin wrote the following equation on the chalkboard:

A C - (-B) (A)(B) x C x C x C - ((-A) - (-B) - (-C)

"I have no idea!" Eomer gasped.

"Oh come on, that is just too easy for words!" One random orc yelled as Eomer left to the principal's office.

"Well then Master Faramir, what are 57/569 plus 770/56 090?" Professor Goblin asked Faramir the fraction question every student fears.

"I… I have no clue!"

"Principal's office young man." The goblin teacher watched him leave.

"Ai Eowyn, you are the last one left! Do you have any idea what -800 x -2 is?"

"No."

"Ai! Go to the principal's office!"

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"So Mac, do you plan to kill me?" Merry asked.

"No, not really." Mini, or Mackenzie, shrugged.

"So, want some beef jerky?" Merry offered Mac some of his beef jerky, but Mac shook his head.

"Us Nazguls don't need to eat, by all means we should be dead by now so eating will not make a difference… But of course, some Nazguls, the mean ones really, will just steal food from hobbits like yourself for the heck of it."

"Those big meanies!" Merry folded his arms across his chest, Mac smiling.

"I like you Merry, you are kind and funny, and my size too! It's sad, when you think of it, that in one month's time I will be in Mordor and you still here." Mac sighed.

"O, don't think of the future! A month is a long time, valar, school just started!" Merry smiled. The two where on the bus home, well, Mac would be living at the home of the student he was replacing, Grima.

"Well Mac, there's your stop! It's right by Isengard, so it will feel pretty much like home, it may smell a little worse since lots of orcs are born around here and there is some million-years-old trees in the forest nearby.

"But… I don't see a home, or any parents nearby!" Mini pointed out.

"Home? Parents? Your replacing Grima! He lives in that old box over there by the road, his parents are non-existent and Saruman takes care of him."

"Oh… Bye Merry!"

"Bye Mac!"

"Now can I sit beside you, cousin Merry?" Pippin asked from beneath the seat.

"Of course, now that Mackenzie is gone!" Merry scooted over and let pippin hop onto the seat.

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"Now, Glorfindel, would you please tell me what you did to your leg?" Billy Bob asked, pushing a stool up to the side of the bed and using it to get on.

"Simon told me to break it, so I did." Glorfindel shrugged.

"Ah, I understand what we are dealing with here, you seem to have the SB disease." Billy Bob sighed, rummaging through a bag with a red cross on it.

"SB? What does that stand for?"

"It is a very common disease in elves such as yourself. Few mortals get such a disease and it can be passed down to your children, but it cannot be 'caught', like a cold. Dwarves can get it easily, depending on the colour of their beards, but I usually have elven patients with SB disease. There is no 'real' cure for this disease, and some die from it, in factone in every ten people with SB are killed by it. Luckily, all that happened to you was a broken foot, it could have been worse."

"So what does it stand for?"

"SB is a shorter term for Stupid Blondes… It happens only to blondes, obviously, so elves such as your friend Erestor and the Lord Elrond will not be able to get such an illness…"

"So it will NEVER go away?"

"Well, I can do my best. What colour do you prefer, Red, brown or black?"

"Black."

Billy Bob opened a bottle and carefully poured it's black contents all over Glorfindel's blonde hair until it was black.

"Now, you are no longer blonde… This is the only way to cure this disease without chopping off all the blonde hair on your body. It works, and you will no longer be a dumb blonde, but if you do not dye your hair black at the first sight of the blonde hair reappearing, you will suffer from SB, and it could lead you to death."

"How will it kill me?"

"It will just make you do something so incredibly stupid that you die from doing that stupid stunt, like say you believe you can fly and jump off Isengard to prove it, or you think that the lava in Mount Doom will not burn you. I had one patient who thought that he wound not be in pain if orcs tortured him... We saved him, but he sure learnt his lesson... Later on he died thinking that he would be able to survive even if an oliphaunt's foot stepped on him..." Billy Bob said.

"I am glad you stopped me from doing THAT!" Glorfindel sighed in relief, crossing off on his agenda 'Swim in Mount Doom - Thursday, 5 PM'.

"Now, about your leg…"

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"Well Cield, it's been great. That list of 101 ways to kill or torture Legolas was fun making, I cannot wait to try them out on MY brother Legolas at MY version of the palace!" Calaen smiled.

"And those ways of torturing - I don't want to kill him yet -will work perfectly on MY brother Legolas, and if they don't work on him there are other members of MY family that I can try them on!" Cield smiled.

"I should be getting back to my version of Mirkwood."

"Can I come with you?" Cield asked.

"No! If you came to MY version, how would I explain that there are two different versions of Mirkwood and you are from the other one? Besides, from what I've heard when I go back there I will die…"

"No! You can't go back if you are going to die!" Cield grabbed onto his new friend's arm.

"I have too! Don't worry, I come back as Calaen the white!"

To be continued…

Calaen the white? Hm,well there you go! Why make Mistopurr write an alternate ending to her story? See, all she has to say is he comes back white. I don't know how I thought of that... Gandalf influenced me!