Sex, Drugs, and Orcish Theatre
folder
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
2,046
Reviews:
4
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Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
43
Views:
2,046
Reviews:
4
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.
Conveniently Pointless Plot Twist
Chapter 30
NOTE: Apologies to all and sundry who care about taking forever in bothering to update. I've just finished typing 9000 words of essay madness on Richard Nixon and Osama Bin Laden (two different essays, although you'd be amazed at some of the similarities between the two...). So yes, this travesty shall continue.
-Mistress Saigon
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Oh, what now?" moaned Haldir, awakening to the sound of his cell door opening.
"Food. Then rehearsal!" An orc hurled a tin plate with an elderly heel of bread on it in Haldir's direction. The plate missed him but the bread hit his nose with unexpected precision.
"Prat! What rehearsals?"
"For the performance, moron," snarled the orc before slamming the door. Irked, Haldir hurled the bread at the door. It connected with a thud, indicative of how s it it was. "We're honoring our Master through staging a theatre production of the highest evil. Musical theatre!!!! Oh, and youse guys get to die at the end. Bye bye!" Whistling a random show-tune, the orc paced about for ten minutes then grabbed several sets of shackles hanging on the wall and opened the door to Haldir's cell.
"Agh! Get off me!!" Haldir slapped futilely at the orc with little success. He grabbed one hand, shackled it and ignored the flailing slaps. "OW!! Don't you ever take care of your armor? I just cut myself!!" Haldir brandished his bleeding thumb at the orc who took the opportunity to shackle his other wrist. He grabbed the chain and pulled Haldir out, the repeated the process with the others, linking them to one another
"Urgh. You smell," said Haldir, turning to wrinkle his nose at Galadriel.
"Haldir, the fact that I'm probably going to die soon only means that I'm more likely to forget any long-term consequences and therefore more likely to kill you," Galadriel warned in a soft voice.
"Which is exactly why tem tempted to take this opportunity to tell you how much I've loathed working with you these past few years," sneered Haldir.
"Hah!! You're still just bitter about that incident. Next time you spike someone's drink so they can unwittingly participate in a gang-bang use something that isn't going fizz and look very obvious."
"That was Celeborn!! He made me do it!! You weren't paying enough attention to him so he figured if he drugged you and tied you up then you'd be forced to spend time with him. Look, who else but Celeborn would be get a date-rape drug confused with alka-seltzer?"
"That's our Celeborn," said Aragorn cheesily. The two elves turned to glare at him but were quickly yanked back along on their way to the great hall.
"Shut up! Do you ever just SHUT UP?" snarled the orc. This wasn't normal. Prisoners were meant to be silent with fear! Useless elves. Didn't even know how to act while captured.
"Oh drop dead," snapped Haldir camply. The orc ignored him as he led them through the back door that led from the dungeons to the hall. The mud pit had been cleared and instead a theatre set had been built around a massive and elaborate black altar. It was crudely carved in the language of the Black Tongue with a groove around the outer edge of the top that clearly allowed for blood to be drained into a shallow basin that stood on a pedestal nearby.
"Oh well. Aast ast I'm going to die in style," sighed Aragorn.
"Oi!! The Master is approaching! So shut the fuck up!!" ordered the orc. The three prisoners turned their eyes to observe Sauron stride over to them, black fabric billowing around him in the melodramatic cliché of true evil.
"Urgh. That won't do. They need to be all pretty and shiny and oh-so sparkly the you you filthy degenerates are when you're clean." Menace rose in Sauron's voice as he spat out the lastds ods of his sentence in pure disgust. "And you! Shave." Sauron pointed at Aragorn, who sighed reluctantly. He liked his stubble. It was low maintenance, it made him look rugged and hard amongst all these beardless elves and he had a sneakinspicspicion that the reason Elrond was so resentful was that with his choice to remain immortal had eradicated his ability to grow a beard. Yes. That HAD to be it.
"Uhm... Master? The water's on the blink." An orc hesitantly kept his distance from Sauron as he told him the bad news.
"What? Is anyone fixing it?!" shouted Sauron at the hapless orc.
"Well your chambers are fine. It's just the rest of the complex that's turned off right now," quavered the orc.
"Fine. Take this collection of vermin through to my chambers and inform my lady of the situation and apologize on my behalf for the inconvenience," ordered Sauron. Nothing as inconsequential as broken plumbing was going to stand in the way of the perfect on-stage ritual slayings he was to perform or stop him from thinking in confusing grammar. After all, it was the nature of true evil to be cryptic and incoherent. His minions turned and started to drag the prisoners away
NOTE: Apologies to all and sundry who care about taking forever in bothering to update. I've just finished typing 9000 words of essay madness on Richard Nixon and Osama Bin Laden (two different essays, although you'd be amazed at some of the similarities between the two...). So yes, this travesty shall continue.
-Mistress Saigon
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"Oh, what now?" moaned Haldir, awakening to the sound of his cell door opening.
"Food. Then rehearsal!" An orc hurled a tin plate with an elderly heel of bread on it in Haldir's direction. The plate missed him but the bread hit his nose with unexpected precision.
"Prat! What rehearsals?"
"For the performance, moron," snarled the orc before slamming the door. Irked, Haldir hurled the bread at the door. It connected with a thud, indicative of how s it it was. "We're honoring our Master through staging a theatre production of the highest evil. Musical theatre!!!! Oh, and youse guys get to die at the end. Bye bye!" Whistling a random show-tune, the orc paced about for ten minutes then grabbed several sets of shackles hanging on the wall and opened the door to Haldir's cell.
"Agh! Get off me!!" Haldir slapped futilely at the orc with little success. He grabbed one hand, shackled it and ignored the flailing slaps. "OW!! Don't you ever take care of your armor? I just cut myself!!" Haldir brandished his bleeding thumb at the orc who took the opportunity to shackle his other wrist. He grabbed the chain and pulled Haldir out, the repeated the process with the others, linking them to one another
"Urgh. You smell," said Haldir, turning to wrinkle his nose at Galadriel.
"Haldir, the fact that I'm probably going to die soon only means that I'm more likely to forget any long-term consequences and therefore more likely to kill you," Galadriel warned in a soft voice.
"Which is exactly why tem tempted to take this opportunity to tell you how much I've loathed working with you these past few years," sneered Haldir.
"Hah!! You're still just bitter about that incident. Next time you spike someone's drink so they can unwittingly participate in a gang-bang use something that isn't going fizz and look very obvious."
"That was Celeborn!! He made me do it!! You weren't paying enough attention to him so he figured if he drugged you and tied you up then you'd be forced to spend time with him. Look, who else but Celeborn would be get a date-rape drug confused with alka-seltzer?"
"That's our Celeborn," said Aragorn cheesily. The two elves turned to glare at him but were quickly yanked back along on their way to the great hall.
"Shut up! Do you ever just SHUT UP?" snarled the orc. This wasn't normal. Prisoners were meant to be silent with fear! Useless elves. Didn't even know how to act while captured.
"Oh drop dead," snapped Haldir camply. The orc ignored him as he led them through the back door that led from the dungeons to the hall. The mud pit had been cleared and instead a theatre set had been built around a massive and elaborate black altar. It was crudely carved in the language of the Black Tongue with a groove around the outer edge of the top that clearly allowed for blood to be drained into a shallow basin that stood on a pedestal nearby.
"Oh well. Aast ast I'm going to die in style," sighed Aragorn.
"Oi!! The Master is approaching! So shut the fuck up!!" ordered the orc. The three prisoners turned their eyes to observe Sauron stride over to them, black fabric billowing around him in the melodramatic cliché of true evil.
"Urgh. That won't do. They need to be all pretty and shiny and oh-so sparkly the you you filthy degenerates are when you're clean." Menace rose in Sauron's voice as he spat out the lastds ods of his sentence in pure disgust. "And you! Shave." Sauron pointed at Aragorn, who sighed reluctantly. He liked his stubble. It was low maintenance, it made him look rugged and hard amongst all these beardless elves and he had a sneakinspicspicion that the reason Elrond was so resentful was that with his choice to remain immortal had eradicated his ability to grow a beard. Yes. That HAD to be it.
"Uhm... Master? The water's on the blink." An orc hesitantly kept his distance from Sauron as he told him the bad news.
"What? Is anyone fixing it?!" shouted Sauron at the hapless orc.
"Well your chambers are fine. It's just the rest of the complex that's turned off right now," quavered the orc.
"Fine. Take this collection of vermin through to my chambers and inform my lady of the situation and apologize on my behalf for the inconvenience," ordered Sauron. Nothing as inconsequential as broken plumbing was going to stand in the way of the perfect on-stage ritual slayings he was to perform or stop him from thinking in confusing grammar. After all, it was the nature of true evil to be cryptic and incoherent. His minions turned and started to drag the prisoners away