I'm back! Sorry for a looooong author's note. I love talking to all of you.

Rousdower: I had to look up Robocop to see what it was. It sounds really cool and cyberpunk. Eh, Sauron deserves it. Sixty-Four K: Well, Thranduil is kind of blade-happy in Desolation of Smaug. :P BlueberryMuffins76: I can't envision Sauron as a blond, but it would be hilarious if he were! Maybe Thranduil will blow up the gate on his way out. Pip the Dark Lord of All: Are you going to take over Middle Earth as well? O.O And thank you! LotCR: Aha! I know who you are now. You review lots of Pip's stories. I love your reviews, by the way; by your last one I noticed you are a Whovian. WOOWHO! p.s. It's a fabulous tank. FandomFangirl100: *bows* Thank you, thank you. I don't know half of you half as well as I should like and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve. Anyways... Only two fandom shirts? Well, you could always cosplay too. I haven't done that yet but I want to. Were you pranking Pip? Phillip Callaway: Glad you liked the tanks! Okay, I'm updating; sorry it took me so long. :P Ranger's Scop: Awww, you don't feel sorry for Lindir? T_T Lily Lindsey-Aubrey: Thanks! Late is fine. And I would have to agree about the ice water versus Galadriel. :P

Chapter 23: Disguises and Detonations

The fellowship stopped in the central court of Minas Morgul while Aragorn counted heads.

"I think we're all here," he said, hoping he hadn't counted anyone twice. "Frodo, where are you going?" he asked as Frodo started sleep walking off.

"Listen up, everybody!" said Eowyn. "No touching anything. If you break something, you pay for it. And don't go into any rooms without asking."

"What a creepy joint," said Faramir, as his cameraman videotaped a glow-in-the-dark gargoyle perched on a nearby column.

"I decorated it myself," said Eowyn huffily.

"I mean it's creepy in a nice way," said Faramir hurriedly. "It shows definite taste and... and..."

"Artistic appreciation," cut in Grima.

"Yeah, precisely," said Faramir. "I mean, no. Don't listen to him! Stop stalking her, okay?"

"Both of you stop stalking me!" shouted Eowyn. "You're both creeps."

"Look who's talking," muttered Boromir.

"Like she said, nobody touch anything," said Aragorn. "We're just passing through. There's the Morgul Vale, up that way. We need to get through that to get to Sauron."

"Before we go there," said Saruman, sounding bored, "we might want to take a little time to formulate a plan. For instance, are we going to employ any stealth tactics?"

"Uh... Gandalf?" said Aragorn uncomfortably.

"Of course we will employ stealth," said Gandalf, wishing he'd thought of it first. It wasn't fair how Saruman was always one step ahead of him, even when dead. "This is the city of the Nazgul. We're certain to find some extra robes lying about which we can use as disguises."

"Excuuuuse me," said Eowyn. "Everything here is MY property and you have to get MY permission first."

"Fine, can we?"

Eowyn hesitated, wondering if she could extort any money from them. She noticed how grumpy Gandalf looked and decided now was not the time.

"I guess so, as long as you slobs don't lose them or get them dirty."

She unlocked a supply cupboard and pulled out a rack of nazgul robes neatly hung on hangers. The fellowship immediately began trying them on.

"Hey, this one's too long," complained Merry.

"I don't like this shade of black," said Legolas. "It clashes with my mascara."

Saruman picked one up between thumb and forefinger. "Black," he said. "I've always hated black. I'm a white wizard."

"Stop grumbling and put it on," said Gandalf, glad for a chance to boss his superior. "Everybody hurry up. We're wasting time."

"Hey, Hama, how do I look?" asked Theoden, poking his rider of the Mark.

"Very well, sire," replied Hama, attempting to disentangle a robe from the heap.

"Hey, I know, let's go off and scare some orcs. What d'ya say?"

"Do you think that advisable, sire?" asked Hama unenthusiastically.

"Sure, it'll be fun. It's boring hanging out with these guys. Come on, Theodred. I saw some stables over here where we can get horses."

Nobody noticed as the three shrouded figures slunk away.

As far as Erestor was concerned, the counselling session was going very well. Of course, it would have been going much better if he could get Sauron to be a little more communicative. He always had the most trouble with introverts.

"Let's talk about your past, your lordship," he said. "I'm sure it must have been very traumatic for you. Losing your leader, I mean."

"Pfft. It wasn't traumatic."

Sauron thought back to it and remembered just how not traumatic it had been. The Valar defeating Morgoth, himself switching sides at the last minute, Morgoth being consigned to the void with screams and imprecations. He hadn't enjoyed himself so much since the time his old boss almost got eaten by Ungoliant. He chuckled at the warm memory.

Erestor looked up from his book hopefully. The patient's mood seemed to be improving.

"Perhaps you could tell me your most traumatic memory," he suggested.

Sauron thought for a moment.

"I think it would have to be the moment when I realised two hobbits were trying to drop my precious into the crack of Doom. Unless you want to count yesterday when Galadriel decided to redecorate Barad-dur and painted my study pink. PINK. And that was only one wall. The other three she painted mint green. It was so nineties I almost died. Or we could count the thousand and one times somebody tried to use the front door and got that stupid bucket of water dropped on their heads. You'd think they'd learn after a while. If it wasn't a different person every time, that is."

"Yes, well..." said Erestor hastily. He had been the most recent culprit and his hair had not dried yet. "I don't think this is helping your state of mind. Maybe you should tell me your fondest memory."

"Fondest?"

"Happiest," emended Erestor.

"Hmmm..."

Sauron got a far away look in his eye. "It was rather nice back when I was a carefree werewolf. I miss those days sometimes. No dark lands to rule, no ring to worry about all the time..."

Erestor got an inspiration.

"You could return to those days, your lordship," he said.

"What?"

"Yes, and have fun like you used to. All you'd need to do is give up the ring of pow -"

"WHAT. GIVE UP THE RING?!"

Erestor didn't like it when Sauron spoke in that tone of voice. It made you feel like your head was imploding.

"It was just a suggestion," he said, squirming.

"GET OUT!" shouted Sauron. "And don't knock that pail of water on yourself as you go!" he added as Erestor fled precipitately.

"Mt. Orodruin in sight, sire," called Feren, above the rumbling of the tank tracks.

"Fabulous," said Thranduil. "Lob a few grenades in and see what it does."

The order was obeyed with ready alacrity and in a few seconds the air shook with heavy reverberations while falling lava hissed on the stones all around them.

"All right, enough fun," said Thranduil after they had admired the fireworks display for a few minutes. "On to Barad-dur. The Dark Lord is waiting."

"He thought he could try to take you from me," hissed Sauron, curled up in a ball in a corner of his office. He stroked the ring's silky smoothness. "They all want to take it from me. Why can't they mind their own businesses? After all, why shouldn't I keep it? It's mine, I made it. My own. My Preciou-"

He hadn't time to finish the word when a heavy shock wave hit the tower. A tea cup on his desk clattered to the floor.

Sauron sat up, clutching at the ring on his hand.

"What's going on?" he shouted.

From below he heard screams.

"Galadriel?" he called. "Are you hurt?"

Lindir burst into the room.

"Sauron, save me!" he shrieked. "The mountain is erupting!"

Sauron rushed to the window. The sight he saw outside filled him with dread.