LotR fic - Fire & Rain
Jan. 19th, 2006 09:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dimity_blueTitle: Fire & Rain
Author: Arnie
Rating: Young teens and older.
Summary: An OC (not a Mary Sue!) in Mordor.
Warning: Extremely silly.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not that there's any doubt about that.
Fire & Rain
by Arnie
Mordor. Whose black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs.
Mordor. Where the flaming disembodied eyeball of the Dark Lord Sauron sees all, hears all.
Mordor. Where Vool the lowly Orc is writing a letter to his mother.
~o0o~
Vool paused and nibbled at the top of his quill. Writing really wasn't his thing but his mother expected to receive a monthly letter from her only son and who was he to try to argue with her? It was all due to his mother that Vool was a member of Sauron's Orc army. When he'd been trying to decide on a career she'd pointed out that there were few job opportunities in Middle Earth for a really ugly git, so why didn't he join the army while he was looking for something better to come along?
The fact that she worked for Army Recuitment, (Orc section), was neither here nor there.
So here he was. In Mordor. Trying to find enough interesting things to fill up his letter.
His first letter had decribed the decor. But there's only so much you can say about black walls, black floors, black furniture and large black gates before it becomes a bit repetitive. His next letter had talked about the many and interesting Orcs he'd met while being stationed in Mordor, and when he could, he'd recount a fairly clean anecdote one of them had told him. True, most of the anecdotes involved slaughtering people but as his mother worked for Army Recruitment, Vool figured she'd expect a certain amount of mayhem and butchery.
Vool gazed at the almost blank page with exasperation.
Deer Mum,
Wasn't much of a start, but it would have to do.
We cort 2 spies today. Big ones. The trols got to eet them up.
Another long pause while Vool regarded his letter. He was sure it wasn't long enough yet. He stared around the room hoping for inspiration.
Suddenly the door burst open and Natak, one of Vool's fellow Orcs, came tumbling into the room. Natak was unlike most Orcs Vool knew. For one thing, he was clumsier than most, and for another he actually had a sense of humour - although that wasn't obvious from the almost frenzied look on his face.
"Here you are - I've been looking everywhere for you!" Natak gasped. "It's raining!"
Vool's letter fluttered to the floor unheeded as a look of horror crossed his face. "No, no! It's not my turn again!"
Natak nodded sympathetically. "Your name's on the roster."
The quill was flung to one side as Vool ran from the room. Pounding along the deep dark corridor in front of him, a feeling of shadow and of threat grew in his mind.
Fifteen corridors and nine flights of stairs later, Vool stopped in front of a large, menacing looking Uruk-Hai and tried to catch his breath.
"You're late."
"I...I...."
"Regulations state that you must...MUST!...be here within ten seconds of the rain starting. And you, Mister, are ten minutes late." The Uruk-Hai bent and glowered directly into Vool's face. "He's very put out. Now get a move on!"
Vool accepted the oven mitts and asbestos lined golfing umbrella with a resigned look on his face, then wearily trotted up the long flight of stairs leading to the top of the tower.
Sauron's eyeball sizzled as the rain fell on it. "Where the bloody hell is that Orc?" Sauron yelled demandingly.
"Here, my lord." Vool halted by the infuriated eyeball and slipped on his ovenmitts.
Sauron did not appear happy to see him. "Well, get a move on!" he snarled in reply.
Opening the umbrella, Vool held it over his Dark Master while the rain ran down his face. One side of him, the side nearest Sauron, was warmer than he preferred, while the other side was getting wetter by the minute.
Silence reigned.
Finally, Sauron spoke again. "Well?" he demanded.
Vool thought quickly. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with...U."
"Umbrella!" Sauron snapped. "Is that the best you can do?"
"I'm very sorry, my lord."
"My turn."
Sauron's eyeball moved slightly and Vool flinched as his earrings melted. Hot metal dripped down onto his shoulder and he wished, for the hundredth time, that he had not joined the army.
"I spy with my flaming eye, something beginning with G."
Vool stared around. "Gates, my lord."
"No."
"Guards, my lord."
"Not even close."
"Grey clouds, my lord?"
"You're really pathetic at this game, aren't you?"
Sauron's eyeball had a smug look about it but Vool bit down his annoyance. "Yes, my lord."
"Give up?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Grima Wormtongue."
"Excuse me, my lord?"
"Grima. Grima Wormtongue. Ugly bloke Saruman's employed. Then again, with a name like Grima he's hardly likely to be Adonis, is he?"
Vool stared around again. "Um...I can't see any Grima Wormtongue, my lord," he ventured.
"I can. Through Saruman's Palantir. He keeps on leaving it on - and the things he gets up to would curl your hair. Well, if you had any."
The Orc sighed. He wished Sauron wouldn't cheat at I Spy, it just made the whole situation worse. "Yes, my lord."
"Right, my turn again. I spy with my flaming eye something beginning with T."
"Trolls, my lord?"
"No."
"Tower, my lord?"
"Still wrong."
Vool sighed. It was going to be a long night.
~finis~
That's it. Hope some of you liked it!
Author: Arnie
Rating: Young teens and older.
Summary: An OC (not a Mary Sue!) in Mordor.
Warning: Extremely silly.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not that there's any doubt about that.
Fire & Rain
by Arnie
Mordor. Whose black gates are guarded by more than just Orcs.
Mordor. Where the flaming disembodied eyeball of the Dark Lord Sauron sees all, hears all.
Mordor. Where Vool the lowly Orc is writing a letter to his mother.
~o0o~
Vool paused and nibbled at the top of his quill. Writing really wasn't his thing but his mother expected to receive a monthly letter from her only son and who was he to try to argue with her? It was all due to his mother that Vool was a member of Sauron's Orc army. When he'd been trying to decide on a career she'd pointed out that there were few job opportunities in Middle Earth for a really ugly git, so why didn't he join the army while he was looking for something better to come along?
The fact that she worked for Army Recuitment, (Orc section), was neither here nor there.
So here he was. In Mordor. Trying to find enough interesting things to fill up his letter.
His first letter had decribed the decor. But there's only so much you can say about black walls, black floors, black furniture and large black gates before it becomes a bit repetitive. His next letter had talked about the many and interesting Orcs he'd met while being stationed in Mordor, and when he could, he'd recount a fairly clean anecdote one of them had told him. True, most of the anecdotes involved slaughtering people but as his mother worked for Army Recruitment, Vool figured she'd expect a certain amount of mayhem and butchery.
Vool gazed at the almost blank page with exasperation.
Deer Mum,
Wasn't much of a start, but it would have to do.
We cort 2 spies today. Big ones. The trols got to eet them up.
Another long pause while Vool regarded his letter. He was sure it wasn't long enough yet. He stared around the room hoping for inspiration.
Suddenly the door burst open and Natak, one of Vool's fellow Orcs, came tumbling into the room. Natak was unlike most Orcs Vool knew. For one thing, he was clumsier than most, and for another he actually had a sense of humour - although that wasn't obvious from the almost frenzied look on his face.
"Here you are - I've been looking everywhere for you!" Natak gasped. "It's raining!"
Vool's letter fluttered to the floor unheeded as a look of horror crossed his face. "No, no! It's not my turn again!"
Natak nodded sympathetically. "Your name's on the roster."
The quill was flung to one side as Vool ran from the room. Pounding along the deep dark corridor in front of him, a feeling of shadow and of threat grew in his mind.
Fifteen corridors and nine flights of stairs later, Vool stopped in front of a large, menacing looking Uruk-Hai and tried to catch his breath.
"You're late."
"I...I...."
"Regulations state that you must...MUST!...be here within ten seconds of the rain starting. And you, Mister, are ten minutes late." The Uruk-Hai bent and glowered directly into Vool's face. "He's very put out. Now get a move on!"
Vool accepted the oven mitts and asbestos lined golfing umbrella with a resigned look on his face, then wearily trotted up the long flight of stairs leading to the top of the tower.
Sauron's eyeball sizzled as the rain fell on it. "Where the bloody hell is that Orc?" Sauron yelled demandingly.
"Here, my lord." Vool halted by the infuriated eyeball and slipped on his ovenmitts.
Sauron did not appear happy to see him. "Well, get a move on!" he snarled in reply.
Opening the umbrella, Vool held it over his Dark Master while the rain ran down his face. One side of him, the side nearest Sauron, was warmer than he preferred, while the other side was getting wetter by the minute.
Silence reigned.
Finally, Sauron spoke again. "Well?" he demanded.
Vool thought quickly. "I spy with my little eye, something beginning with...U."
"Umbrella!" Sauron snapped. "Is that the best you can do?"
"I'm very sorry, my lord."
"My turn."
Sauron's eyeball moved slightly and Vool flinched as his earrings melted. Hot metal dripped down onto his shoulder and he wished, for the hundredth time, that he had not joined the army.
"I spy with my flaming eye, something beginning with G."
Vool stared around. "Gates, my lord."
"No."
"Guards, my lord."
"Not even close."
"Grey clouds, my lord?"
"You're really pathetic at this game, aren't you?"
Sauron's eyeball had a smug look about it but Vool bit down his annoyance. "Yes, my lord."
"Give up?"
"Yes, my lord."
"Grima Wormtongue."
"Excuse me, my lord?"
"Grima. Grima Wormtongue. Ugly bloke Saruman's employed. Then again, with a name like Grima he's hardly likely to be Adonis, is he?"
Vool stared around again. "Um...I can't see any Grima Wormtongue, my lord," he ventured.
"I can. Through Saruman's Palantir. He keeps on leaving it on - and the things he gets up to would curl your hair. Well, if you had any."
The Orc sighed. He wished Sauron wouldn't cheat at I Spy, it just made the whole situation worse. "Yes, my lord."
"Right, my turn again. I spy with my flaming eye something beginning with T."
"Trolls, my lord?"
"No."
"Tower, my lord?"
"Still wrong."
Vool sighed. It was going to be a long night.
~finis~
That's it. Hope some of you liked it!
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-20 07:25 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-20 04:09 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-25 04:27 pm (UTC)I'll have to show David think he'd like it too!
(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-25 06:56 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-31 11:11 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-28 01:41 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-01-29 04:48 pm (UTC)Glad you enjoyed it. :oD