Tedium in Barad-Dûr
folder
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
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1,509
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Currently Reading:
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Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,509
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Inspiration
Chapter 2: Inspiration
“Run this by me again. Why are we down here?” snapped the Wraith King. Sauron hardly ever bothered coming down to the dungeons these days, other than to visit the torture chambers. The other prisoner's cells were normally neglected by the Dark Lord who had long ago lost interest in the novelty of gloating over his captives. Besides, that was only satisfying when someone of importance was interred. These trespassing human strangers were hardly worthy of being crowed over by Sauron himself.
“I told you. It’s time to give me a new look. And I quite liked what those outlandish little wretches were wearing,” replied Sauron, annoyed at having to repeat himself to his captain.
The Lord of the Nazgûl resisted the urge to slap himself in frustrat “Bu “But they’re wearing really nasty cheap fabrics! Have you seen their pitiful excuse for velvet?” He cringed at the thought of the cheap velvet skirts the two girls had been wearing, complete with a few cigarette burns and fraying hems.
“Like I’d be caught DEAD in THEIR fabric,” snapped Sauron, his feelings hurt. “And watch who you’re talking to. If it wasn’t for me you’d be long dead and buried instead of serving me in malignant glory.”
“Yes, My Lord,” grumbled the Witch-King of Angmar. At times like this he wished he HAD died. Sauron could be so embarrassing when he got enthusiastic about something. This sudden interest in fashion was definitely cringe-worthy.
The black-clad pair reached the rank prisons of Barad-Dûr and ignored the moans of the interred as they wandered through to the cells containing the humans. Dressed outlandishly in lots of lace and velvet and leather complete with starkly contrasting badly applied makeup, they had seemingly appeared out of nowhere at the gates of Minas Morgul.
“Fear me, wretched mortals, for I am SAURON,” proclaimed the Dark Lord dramatically. The bedraggled trio, imprisoned within the same cell, stared in awe at Sauron.
“Oh my god! You’re the REAL Sauron? That’s, like, so cool!” exclaimed a rather fat girl squeezed into an unflatteringly tight corset. The torn black mesh shirt she wore under it did little to conceal the displaced rolls of flab from her constrictive dress.
Sauron stared at the flabby human as she moved towards the front of her cell.
“No!! I get to touch him first!” retorted a skinny girl with a severe acne problem which she had failed to conceal with the mound of china white foundation she had smeared across her face. She lurched forward and began struggling with her companion as Sauron backed away from the commotion.
“They don’t seem to be fearing me much,” whispered Sauron to the Witch King. He sighed and twitched irritably.
“I mentioned that in the report I sent up when we finished the initial interrogation. These fools seem to want to ally themselves with us,” hissed the Nazgûl.
“What? Really?” Sauron wrinkled his nose, aghast. He stared back at the two girls who were now shrieking and involved in some hardcore face slapping and hair-pulling.
“We HAVE had them before. You know. They somehow mysteriously turn up here and for some with the deluded belief that we’ll take an interest in them and give them power , and half the time they seem to be insanely in love with you," said the
Nazgûl diplomatically. The bastard NEVER paid ANY attention to his carefully compiled reports. That was the last time he’d bother to
include his neat and precise footnotes.
“Oh no. Not MORE of those types,” groaned Sauron.
“I thought you wanted to see them?” inquired the Nazgûl, preparing himself for another onslaught of whining.
“Just for fashion ideas!! I didn’t think they’d be trying to grope me!” Sauron looked genuinely panicked for a moment before clearing his throat and trying to recapture the remnants of his sinister dignity. “Go breathe on those two,” he ordered.
“Your word, as always, is my command,” replied the Nazgûl sarcastically. He glided over to the cell and reached between the bars, grabbing the hair of both females and wrenching them closer. Before they could begin to protest the wraith exhaled in their faces. Swiftly the females were silenced and slumped to the floor, unconscious.
“There. That’s better!” said Sauron, now approaching the cell again. He peered through the bars at the lone conscious prisoner, a teenaged boy with badly dyed black hair that hadn’t been washed or combed in a good few weeks. Streaked eyeliner made his sunken eyes look more hollow as he stared at Sauron. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees and kowtowed before the Dark Lord. “Oh, what now?” groaned Sauron.
“I understand your dislike of them. They are weak. They do not embrace the darkness as you and I do,” the boy cried out from his submissive stance.
“Oh not that old chestnut. WHAT, precisely, can the likes of YOU offer me? Except possibly those trousers…” Sauron was distracted from his irritation by the fetching pair of expensive-looking leather pants that the prisoner wore.
“If it is your will then I will heed you!” The prisoner suddenly stood up and after dropping his leather trousers he began to remove the rest of his garments.
“Agh! No! I just want your trousers!!!” said Sauron quickly, not really relishing seeing any more of that sallow pasty-white skin. The frantic human clearly didn’t hear him as he flung the last of his clothes at the bars of the cell and finally stood naked before Sauron and the Ringwraith. Sauron was about to say something nasty when something glittered and caught his eye.
“What’s that?” asked Sauron, pointing at the metal rings attached to the lad’s nipples.
“They are piercings, O Grand Exalted Paragon and Master of All Encompassing Evil,” replied the prisoner.
Facial piercings were one thing. Skewering crudely wrought pieces of metal through faces seemed all the rage amongst the orcs in Minas Morgul, and had recently caught on in Barad-Dûr. But piercing other parts of the body… now THAT would be a fantastically daring fashion statement.
The Lord of the Nazgûl felt another wave of grim resignation flow over him as he watched his master stare with interest at the human. He had a horrible suspicion that in the next ten minutes Sauron was going to send him off to find some kind of sharp implement and an ice-cube.
“Do they serve any other purpose?” asked Sauron eagerly.
“Er… they feel good when you have sex,” said the human, starting to feel uncomfortable. This wasn’t what he’d expected from Sauron. Back home where he’d grown up he had revered the dark lord of Middle Earth. Seeking solace in literary figures of great evils and his cheesy overblown black metal was the only means of dealing with the cruel world that misunderstood him and had yet to discover his dark poetic genius. After all those years wallowing in daydreams about werewolves, vampires, and, of course, Sauron himself, he had finally been transported to Middle Earth after drinking formaldehyde in hope that it would turn him into a vampire. Except his dreams of coming face to face with the dark lord now had him standing naked in a cold cell in Barad-Dûr with the two goth chicks he had persuaded to join him in his quest for living-death, being interrogated about piercings.
“Really?” said Sauron, interrupting the naked boy’s angst. Sauron looked his captive up and down, taking mental note of the piercings he now wanted. Initially avoiding looking at the goth’s crotch(,) he finally braved it and was mildly shocked to see that the piercings extended to his genitalia.
“Yes," pleaded the goth, starting to feel a cold draft against his nether regions, inducing severe shrinkage of certain male organs.“Now please, great exalted One, may I have some new trousers?”
“Huh? Oh. No, I don’t think so,” said Sauron. “Let me know when their execution is scheduled so I can watch,” said Sauron, turning to the Nazgûl.
“Well, we could always just kill them now,” he suggested, finding the notion of putting these irksome humans to death cathartic.
“No, those two are unconscious. How about we kill them with lots of fanfare? That way I’ll get to show off my new look!!”
“Why, what a wonderful idea. I’m ashamed I didn’t come up with it first,” muttered the Lord of the Nazgûl.
“And stop being such a sarcastic bastard! I made you what you are today and don’t your forget that!!” snapped Sauron, turning to depart.
“Wait a minute! You can’t kill me! I’m your ally! I’m willing to serve you!!” screamed the boy as the Lord of the Nazgûl began to grab the scattered garments through the bars.
“Yes he can, no he’s not, and don’t be stupid,” he snapped. ‘Why am I constantly surrounded by morons?’ he moaned.
“BUT I CAN AID YOU!!!! I KNOW WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN!!” The prisoner grabbed the bars and tried rattling the door.
“Oh just shut up.” With that, the Witch King stood up, and used the hand not carrying a load of black clothing to grab the boy’s hair and smash his head against the heavy steel bars. He collapsed beside the two unconscious girls and the Nazgûl felt his spirits rise ever so slightly.
“HURRY UP!” shouted Sauron from somewhere near the dungeon exit. The Lord of the Nazgûl’s brief glimmer of pleasure quickly reverted to irritation as he stormed off to catch up with Sauron.
“Run this by me again. Why are we down here?” snapped the Wraith King. Sauron hardly ever bothered coming down to the dungeons these days, other than to visit the torture chambers. The other prisoner's cells were normally neglected by the Dark Lord who had long ago lost interest in the novelty of gloating over his captives. Besides, that was only satisfying when someone of importance was interred. These trespassing human strangers were hardly worthy of being crowed over by Sauron himself.
“I told you. It’s time to give me a new look. And I quite liked what those outlandish little wretches were wearing,” replied Sauron, annoyed at having to repeat himself to his captain.
The Lord of the Nazgûl resisted the urge to slap himself in frustrat “Bu “But they’re wearing really nasty cheap fabrics! Have you seen their pitiful excuse for velvet?” He cringed at the thought of the cheap velvet skirts the two girls had been wearing, complete with a few cigarette burns and fraying hems.
“Like I’d be caught DEAD in THEIR fabric,” snapped Sauron, his feelings hurt. “And watch who you’re talking to. If it wasn’t for me you’d be long dead and buried instead of serving me in malignant glory.”
“Yes, My Lord,” grumbled the Witch-King of Angmar. At times like this he wished he HAD died. Sauron could be so embarrassing when he got enthusiastic about something. This sudden interest in fashion was definitely cringe-worthy.
The black-clad pair reached the rank prisons of Barad-Dûr and ignored the moans of the interred as they wandered through to the cells containing the humans. Dressed outlandishly in lots of lace and velvet and leather complete with starkly contrasting badly applied makeup, they had seemingly appeared out of nowhere at the gates of Minas Morgul.
“Fear me, wretched mortals, for I am SAURON,” proclaimed the Dark Lord dramatically. The bedraggled trio, imprisoned within the same cell, stared in awe at Sauron.
“Oh my god! You’re the REAL Sauron? That’s, like, so cool!” exclaimed a rather fat girl squeezed into an unflatteringly tight corset. The torn black mesh shirt she wore under it did little to conceal the displaced rolls of flab from her constrictive dress.
Sauron stared at the flabby human as she moved towards the front of her cell.
“No!! I get to touch him first!” retorted a skinny girl with a severe acne problem which she had failed to conceal with the mound of china white foundation she had smeared across her face. She lurched forward and began struggling with her companion as Sauron backed away from the commotion.
“They don’t seem to be fearing me much,” whispered Sauron to the Witch King. He sighed and twitched irritably.
“I mentioned that in the report I sent up when we finished the initial interrogation. These fools seem to want to ally themselves with us,” hissed the Nazgûl.
“What? Really?” Sauron wrinkled his nose, aghast. He stared back at the two girls who were now shrieking and involved in some hardcore face slapping and hair-pulling.
“We HAVE had them before. You know. They somehow mysteriously turn up here and for some with the deluded belief that we’ll take an interest in them and give them power , and half the time they seem to be insanely in love with you," said the
Nazgûl diplomatically. The bastard NEVER paid ANY attention to his carefully compiled reports. That was the last time he’d bother to
include his neat and precise footnotes.
“Oh no. Not MORE of those types,” groaned Sauron.
“I thought you wanted to see them?” inquired the Nazgûl, preparing himself for another onslaught of whining.
“Just for fashion ideas!! I didn’t think they’d be trying to grope me!” Sauron looked genuinely panicked for a moment before clearing his throat and trying to recapture the remnants of his sinister dignity. “Go breathe on those two,” he ordered.
“Your word, as always, is my command,” replied the Nazgûl sarcastically. He glided over to the cell and reached between the bars, grabbing the hair of both females and wrenching them closer. Before they could begin to protest the wraith exhaled in their faces. Swiftly the females were silenced and slumped to the floor, unconscious.
“There. That’s better!” said Sauron, now approaching the cell again. He peered through the bars at the lone conscious prisoner, a teenaged boy with badly dyed black hair that hadn’t been washed or combed in a good few weeks. Streaked eyeliner made his sunken eyes look more hollow as he stared at Sauron. Suddenly, he dropped to his knees and kowtowed before the Dark Lord. “Oh, what now?” groaned Sauron.
“I understand your dislike of them. They are weak. They do not embrace the darkness as you and I do,” the boy cried out from his submissive stance.
“Oh not that old chestnut. WHAT, precisely, can the likes of YOU offer me? Except possibly those trousers…” Sauron was distracted from his irritation by the fetching pair of expensive-looking leather pants that the prisoner wore.
“If it is your will then I will heed you!” The prisoner suddenly stood up and after dropping his leather trousers he began to remove the rest of his garments.
“Agh! No! I just want your trousers!!!” said Sauron quickly, not really relishing seeing any more of that sallow pasty-white skin. The frantic human clearly didn’t hear him as he flung the last of his clothes at the bars of the cell and finally stood naked before Sauron and the Ringwraith. Sauron was about to say something nasty when something glittered and caught his eye.
“What’s that?” asked Sauron, pointing at the metal rings attached to the lad’s nipples.
“They are piercings, O Grand Exalted Paragon and Master of All Encompassing Evil,” replied the prisoner.
Facial piercings were one thing. Skewering crudely wrought pieces of metal through faces seemed all the rage amongst the orcs in Minas Morgul, and had recently caught on in Barad-Dûr. But piercing other parts of the body… now THAT would be a fantastically daring fashion statement.
The Lord of the Nazgûl felt another wave of grim resignation flow over him as he watched his master stare with interest at the human. He had a horrible suspicion that in the next ten minutes Sauron was going to send him off to find some kind of sharp implement and an ice-cube.
“Do they serve any other purpose?” asked Sauron eagerly.
“Er… they feel good when you have sex,” said the human, starting to feel uncomfortable. This wasn’t what he’d expected from Sauron. Back home where he’d grown up he had revered the dark lord of Middle Earth. Seeking solace in literary figures of great evils and his cheesy overblown black metal was the only means of dealing with the cruel world that misunderstood him and had yet to discover his dark poetic genius. After all those years wallowing in daydreams about werewolves, vampires, and, of course, Sauron himself, he had finally been transported to Middle Earth after drinking formaldehyde in hope that it would turn him into a vampire. Except his dreams of coming face to face with the dark lord now had him standing naked in a cold cell in Barad-Dûr with the two goth chicks he had persuaded to join him in his quest for living-death, being interrogated about piercings.
“Really?” said Sauron, interrupting the naked boy’s angst. Sauron looked his captive up and down, taking mental note of the piercings he now wanted. Initially avoiding looking at the goth’s crotch(,) he finally braved it and was mildly shocked to see that the piercings extended to his genitalia.
“Yes," pleaded the goth, starting to feel a cold draft against his nether regions, inducing severe shrinkage of certain male organs.“Now please, great exalted One, may I have some new trousers?”
“Huh? Oh. No, I don’t think so,” said Sauron. “Let me know when their execution is scheduled so I can watch,” said Sauron, turning to the Nazgûl.
“Well, we could always just kill them now,” he suggested, finding the notion of putting these irksome humans to death cathartic.
“No, those two are unconscious. How about we kill them with lots of fanfare? That way I’ll get to show off my new look!!”
“Why, what a wonderful idea. I’m ashamed I didn’t come up with it first,” muttered the Lord of the Nazgûl.
“And stop being such a sarcastic bastard! I made you what you are today and don’t your forget that!!” snapped Sauron, turning to depart.
“Wait a minute! You can’t kill me! I’m your ally! I’m willing to serve you!!” screamed the boy as the Lord of the Nazgûl began to grab the scattered garments through the bars.
“Yes he can, no he’s not, and don’t be stupid,” he snapped. ‘Why am I constantly surrounded by morons?’ he moaned.
“BUT I CAN AID YOU!!!! I KNOW WHAT’S GOING TO HAPPEN!!” The prisoner grabbed the bars and tried rattling the door.
“Oh just shut up.” With that, the Witch King stood up, and used the hand not carrying a load of black clothing to grab the boy’s hair and smash his head against the heavy steel bars. He collapsed beside the two unconscious girls and the Nazgûl felt his spirits rise ever so slightly.
“HURRY UP!” shouted Sauron from somewhere near the dungeon exit. The Lord of the Nazgûl’s brief glimmer of pleasure quickly reverted to irritation as he stormed off to catch up with Sauron.