Thanks for the reviews, everybody! They were awesome, as usual. And I just noticed I'm up to 149, so whoever gets the 150th gets... something. Um, virtual cookies, maybe?

Chapter 24: Renovations

Beregond and Eomer were playing flying pirates when a guard hurried in.

"Sir, three black riders have just entered the gate of Minas Tirith," said the guard, who was white and shaking.

"Black riders?" gasped Beregond. "Where? What are they doing?"

"Well..." said the guard. "At present they're going around knocking on doors and asking for candy."

A loud knock echoed through the room.

"Ooh, that's probably them," said the guard. "What should we do?"

Beregond looked frightened. "Don't panic," he said shakily. "Follow me."

He seized an iron mace and approached the door carefully. Taking a deep breath, he opened it a crack and peered out.

"TRICK OR TREAT!" shouted the black robed figures outside.

Startled, Beregond emptied a box of tictacs into the bag they were holding out.

"Nazgul, are you?" shouted Eomer. "Maybe you've seen my sister."

"Ha! Fooled you!" said the figure holding the bag, and he burst out laughing hilariously. "I'm your Uncle Theoden."

"What? Who? But-but you're dead."

"Yes I am, actually," said Theoden with a giggle. "That's what makes this such a fun disguise. And oh by the way, I have seen Eowyn. She was in Minas Morgul but I think she went to Mordor."

"I KNEW IT!" said Eomer. "I knew I would find her there!"

He burst through the door so fast that he ran through the other two ghosts and knocked their black robes off.

"Ah, oh well," said Theoden, shrugging. "Got anything besides tictacs?"

Barad-dur shook as another missile hit it. Sauron cowered underneath a table with his hands over his ears. Why couldn't Thranduil and his toughs just come in through the front door? It was open, after all.

Crash.

It seemed someone had decided to use the front door. Sauron allowed himself the brief privilege of a satisfied smirk. The smile quickly left his face however as he heard Thranduil's voice below.

"That's why I always send someone else to scout out the area first," the elvenking was saying. "Keep an eye open for landmines."

"Y-y-yes, sire," shivered Feren.

Sauron could hear Feren's shoes squishing water out as he climbed the steps of the tower.

"I suppose I must go out and meet them," thought Sauron, climbing out from under the table and straightening his crown.

He assumed a striking pose as Thranduil entered the room. It would never do to show fear before that troublesome Galadriel and Celeborn.

"Ah, Thranduil," said Sauron in his most sinister voice. (The bad guy should always speak first; it established the right sense of inferiority in the victim.) "I've been expecting you."

"Good," said Thranduil. "Got anything to drink?"

"Not so fast," said Sauron, without losing his poise. He congratulated himself on this point because it was really hard not losing one's poise around the elvenking. "Perhaps you are not aware that you have walked right into my trap."

"No," said Thranduil. "Feren did. It was a pitiful excuse for a trap."

Sauron's self possession was beginning to slip. He couldn't think of an evil comeback so he resorted to glaring scornfully at his opponent.

"Regard yourself as a prisoner until further notice," Thranduil continued. "Resistance will result in instant death."

Sauron gritted his teeth. "Don't be too sure of that," he said. "Remember you don't have the ring of power. I do."

"Meh," said Thranduil. "Rings are blasé. I prefer crowns and necklaces."

Sauron brightened. If the elvenking wasn't interested in his ring then there was still hope.

Thranduil ran his finger over a shelf and rubbed the dust off it.

"This place is a dive," he said to Feren. "Cleanse it."

Glorfindel darted across a small stretch of open ground, somersaulted under a low-hanging tree limb, back-flipped over a crevasse, and slid under a boulder. He scanned the area he had just traversed, his knives at the ready. He could hear nothing, yet he knew he was being pursued relentlessly.

Sweat trickled from his scalp and he gripped his knives tighter, trying to get his heart rate back to normal. He had been running for hours. Perhaps he had shaken his stalker off at last.

"What's this? An elf caught off his guard?"

Glorfindel started violently, almost knocking himself out on the overhanging boulder. He collapsed gasping and staring wildly at the elleth with a knife levelled at his throat.

"Ha! Caught you!" squealed Arwen. "I'm a great stalker, aren't I?"

"Y-y-y-y-y-es, you w-w-w-win," said Glorfindel. "You get the prize (whatever it is). Now go back to your prison camp, Arwen."

"Aw, but I want to stay with you," said Arwen. "Come on, let me join your special orc corps."

"No means no," said Glorfindel. "Don't think chasing me around like this is going to change my mind."

"But why nooooot?"

"Because you're a girl."

"That's not fair!"

"And also I don't want a girlfriend."

"You'll like me," Arwen promised. "Just wait until you see me ride a horse."

"I've already seen you ride my horse, thank you very much," said Glorfindel. "And I have no wish to see any more of you than I've already seen. Please, just leave me alone."

"Captain?" called a voice. "Captain, where are you?"

"I'm not going to stop following you until you let me join," said Arwen.

Glorfindel crawled out from under the rock, attempting to retrieve what shreds of his dignity were left.

"Um, hello, Ugluk," he said.

The two rivals had become frenemies when Ugluk had joined Glorfindel's elite orc corps but they still didn't get along with each other.

"What were you doing down there, captain?"

"Nothing." He turned to Arwen. "If I catch you following me any more, I'll make you sorry," he threatened.

"But I have to marry someone!" wailed Arwen.

Glorfindel and Ugluk both fled precipitately.

Another resounding boom echoed through Barad-dur. Sauron shivered and hoped Orodruin would get back to normal soon. How stupid could Thranduil be, lobbing grenades into it? He sat down on a sofa only to be told to move by Erestor who was vaccuuming the carpet.

Elves. Elves everywhere, cleaning everything. The whole place smelled of Febreze. Sauron wandered aimlessly through the tower and finally decided to try to find something to eat.

He reached the kitchen just as another explosion rocked the tower. Through the kitchen door a lot of smoke billowed and Sauron realised with horror that the explosion had come from inside the tower. He dashed into the kitchen and seized a fire extinguisher.

"What's going on?" he demanded of the two orc cooks.

"We were just making a New York style cheesecake," said Mornok.

"Well, what happened?"

"I don't know. The oven seems to have blown up."

"Trust an orc," muttered Sauron. "Will I never have any peace?" he said in a louder tone to the two offenders. "Do you know how many decades that oven has served me faithfully? And now I have to buy a new one..."

He stopped as a light dawned on him. He didn't have to buy a new oven—Thranduil did, since he had decided to take over the tower.

Sauron smiled.

"Sire!" he shouted, entering the throne room. He smirked as he saw Thranduil shifting on the throne in a vain effort to find a comfortable position. He knew those spikes would come in handy one day and they finally had. The elvenking would rather sit on a throne and be in pain than not sit on one and be comfortable.

"What is it?" demanded Thranduil impatiently. Sauron's satisfaction deepened as he recognised the same annoyance he himself had been displaying recently. Thranduil was finding out that being a dark lord wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

"The oven has exploded, sire. You'll have to buy a new one. Top of the line model, too. No craigslist finds."

"Very well," said Thranduil. "Of course top of the line. I may as well get the kitchen remodeled while I'm at it. You can be in charge of ordering the new appliances."

"Can I be in charge of something?" asked Galadriel sweeping in with a stack of paint chips. "And what do you think about repainting this room? I was thinking cool mint breeze for that wall. Or maybe honeysuckle vibe."

"Whatever you wish," said Thranduil with a dismissive wave. "Just make it fabulous."

Sauron's satisfaction faded. What were they going to do to his tower? He wanted it back when they were done with it, after all.

"Sire!" shouted Feren, running in. "We're being attacked!"

"I imagine my force is equal to any orc hordes Sauron may have at his command," Thranduil replied unconcernedly.

"No, sire, they're elves."

"What?"

"Hippie elves. They're protesting war."

Sauron ran to the window. This was too good to miss.

Outside Orophin and Rumil were waving signs and throwing water balloons filled with paint at the tanks. The elves inside the tanks shouted angrily but seemed intimidated. Sauron cackled with glee.

"Have them arrested," said Thranduil, appearing at Sauron's elbow.

Mount Orodruin rumbled in the distance and Sauron's contentment slowly returned. Not everything was going wrong. Thranduil had not noticed the eagles flying towards Barad-dur and the sight, which had filled Sauron with mortal fear only a few hours earlier, now gave him hope. If the fellowship was coming they'd have Thranduil to deal with. And Thranduil would have all those annoying people in his hair. Win win. Sauron could slip off during the commotion and start over somewhere else—the ruins of Angband, maybe. As long as he had the ring of power he was invincible.

Elrond hated cleaning the bathroom and it seemed he was always the one who had to do it. He'd tried to make Erestor do it this time but Thranduil (who had always disliked Elrond) had taken Erestor's side. Life was so unfair. Elrond squirted cleaner furiously all over the shower.

Suddenly he stopped, staring at the soap dish. He rubbed his eyes, got cleaner in them, and found it harder to see than ever. He put out his hand and picked up the object that had so amazed him.

Sauron's ring.

(And since FandomFangirl100 asked for it:)

Dun dun duuuunnnnn...

I'm going to end this story soon because I have a lot of ideas for other stories that I want to start. There will be one or two more chapters, maybe three, depending on how long it takes to wrap everything up.