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silwritersguild2005-09-14 02:09 pm
digdigil.livejournal.com) wrote in silwritersguild2005-09-14 02:09 pm
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ARANDIL'S BIRTHDAY PRESENT
Okay, this is Arandil's birthday present! I'm posting this now because Friday is going to be too busy a day and I'm not going to be here on Saturday! So you are getting an early birthday present, which I am posting to the SWG.
Now, having said that, this fic is a new thing for me. I don't usually do humour, so this might be pretty bad. Also, it's your fault, Arandil, because you said in your b'day card request that you would like to read something about Morgoth and Sauron. I also know that you don't like torture fics, but the torture in this one doesn't really count, does it? Read it and see! WARNINGS FOR BAD LANGUAGE INCLUDING SWEAR WORDS AND SOME BAD BEHAVIOUR BY THE DARK LORDS. ALSO FOR DISGUSTING BEHAVIOUR. ALSO FOR REALLY, REALLY BAD WRITING.
Anyway, here it is. It's called "THE SHOWERS OF ANGBAND"
THE SHOWERS OF ANGBAND
The Dark Lord Morgoth was busy tearing the wings off of fell beasts when he happened to glance out of the window of his inquisition room and saw the Dark Lord Sauron approaching his fortress riding a big black steed.
“Curses! That bastard usurper Sauron approaches and I am nowhere near ready for him! Dang it! I meant to start this beast’s carcass roasting a good three days ago! Not only that but the Orcs haven’t yet cleaned out the dungeon I was going to let the Deceiver stay in!
Just then an Orc entered, tentatively standing in the doorway. “Whadda you want?” Morgoth shrieked, flinging a sharply taloned beast’s foot at him after having ripped it out of its socket.
“My Lord, your guest has arrived”, said the Orc, blinking wildly, as a talon had impaled him through one of his three eyes.
“Don’t just stand there playing with that foot, go and let him in!” shouted Morgoth. The Orc slammed the door shut after popping out his eye with the talon still stuck in it.
Morgoth, not at all in a good mood, made his way to the front door. An Orc sniggered involuntarily as the Dark Lord tripped over the ragged hem of his black robe and stumbled, first forward, then backward as his arms flailed and he tried to regain his footing. The Orc was lucky to escape down an off-corridor while Morgoth had to clutch at the wall to regain his balance, knocking over several candle sconces as he did so.
The front door flew open with a bang against the wall behind it, flattening another Orc who had gone to open it. Sauron stood in the doorway, tall, splendid and imposing in his fair form. “Been into that Dorwinion stuff again, Morg?” he asked as Morgoth tried to straighten himself to appear taller than Sauron.
Morgoth looked him over, up and down, taking in the fair form, resplendent in Sauron’s best robes. “You look a right Nancy”, he remarked.
“Tsk, I’m all dusty from riding across these badlands of yours”, pronounced Sauron with a distinctive lisp. “Have you got a loo where I can freshen up?”
“This way”, barked Morgoth, lifting his dank black robe up off the ground. “I’ve put in some showers down in the lower pits”.
“Showers? What are showers?” asked Sauron.
“You don’t know showers, Minion O’Mine? It is a series of pipes with fittings that hang down over a row of stalls with drains in the floor, and you pull a cord and water splashes down on you. It’s called “running water”, replied Morgoth with a sneer.
“Ooooh, that sounds nice”, lisped Sauron. “I’ll bet the water’s nice and cold, being down in the deeps”.
“Not quite”, Morgoth snickered to himself as he led Sauron down many steep flights of stairs. When they reached the dungeon in which stood the showers, Morgoth watched as Sauron disrobed.
“It looks like you forgot something”, Morgoth remarked as he leaned against the door frame with his arms folded.
“What are you talking about?” asked Sauron absent-mindedly as he looked for the cord to turn on the water.
“When you took that form – I mean, it’s very pretty and all”, said Morgoth, “but you forgot something”.
“What?” Sauron whirled around to face him, clearly annoyed by any criticism of his fair form.
“Your twaddlies”, said Morgoth.
“My what?” asked Sauron.
“Your dingly-danglies – you know, your dangly bits”.
“What are you saying?” shouted Sauron.
“Well, are you supposed to be a lord or a maid?”
“A lord! A beautiful elf lord! What does it look like I am?” By now Sauron was quite red faced and angry.
“Then where’s your whatzit?” asked Morgoth, pointing to a spot between Sauron’s loins.
Sauron ducked his head down to look between his legs. He was as smooth and anatomically incorrect there as a child’s doll.
“What the FUUUUCKKKK????!!!!!” he screamed.
“When you have to go potty, how do you do it?” asked Morgoth.
“Aaaahhhhhhh!!!” screamed Sauron. “Don’t say it!! I have to go NOW!! Don’t talk about it!! What am I going to do?????”
“Beats me”, said Morgoth, and with one hand reached up and pulled the master lever that released the icy cold water out of the shower heads. Then he made his way swiftly up the stairs, taking four steps at a time and giggling fiendishly as Sauron’s shrieks of agony resonated gloriously in his ears.
Now, having said that, this fic is a new thing for me. I don't usually do humour, so this might be pretty bad. Also, it's your fault, Arandil, because you said in your b'day card request that you would like to read something about Morgoth and Sauron. I also know that you don't like torture fics, but the torture in this one doesn't really count, does it? Read it and see! WARNINGS FOR BAD LANGUAGE INCLUDING SWEAR WORDS AND SOME BAD BEHAVIOUR BY THE DARK LORDS. ALSO FOR DISGUSTING BEHAVIOUR. ALSO FOR REALLY, REALLY BAD WRITING.
Anyway, here it is. It's called "THE SHOWERS OF ANGBAND"
THE SHOWERS OF ANGBAND
The Dark Lord Morgoth was busy tearing the wings off of fell beasts when he happened to glance out of the window of his inquisition room and saw the Dark Lord Sauron approaching his fortress riding a big black steed.
“Curses! That bastard usurper Sauron approaches and I am nowhere near ready for him! Dang it! I meant to start this beast’s carcass roasting a good three days ago! Not only that but the Orcs haven’t yet cleaned out the dungeon I was going to let the Deceiver stay in!
Just then an Orc entered, tentatively standing in the doorway. “Whadda you want?” Morgoth shrieked, flinging a sharply taloned beast’s foot at him after having ripped it out of its socket.
“My Lord, your guest has arrived”, said the Orc, blinking wildly, as a talon had impaled him through one of his three eyes.
“Don’t just stand there playing with that foot, go and let him in!” shouted Morgoth. The Orc slammed the door shut after popping out his eye with the talon still stuck in it.
Morgoth, not at all in a good mood, made his way to the front door. An Orc sniggered involuntarily as the Dark Lord tripped over the ragged hem of his black robe and stumbled, first forward, then backward as his arms flailed and he tried to regain his footing. The Orc was lucky to escape down an off-corridor while Morgoth had to clutch at the wall to regain his balance, knocking over several candle sconces as he did so.
The front door flew open with a bang against the wall behind it, flattening another Orc who had gone to open it. Sauron stood in the doorway, tall, splendid and imposing in his fair form. “Been into that Dorwinion stuff again, Morg?” he asked as Morgoth tried to straighten himself to appear taller than Sauron.
Morgoth looked him over, up and down, taking in the fair form, resplendent in Sauron’s best robes. “You look a right Nancy”, he remarked.
“Tsk, I’m all dusty from riding across these badlands of yours”, pronounced Sauron with a distinctive lisp. “Have you got a loo where I can freshen up?”
“This way”, barked Morgoth, lifting his dank black robe up off the ground. “I’ve put in some showers down in the lower pits”.
“Showers? What are showers?” asked Sauron.
“You don’t know showers, Minion O’Mine? It is a series of pipes with fittings that hang down over a row of stalls with drains in the floor, and you pull a cord and water splashes down on you. It’s called “running water”, replied Morgoth with a sneer.
“Ooooh, that sounds nice”, lisped Sauron. “I’ll bet the water’s nice and cold, being down in the deeps”.
“Not quite”, Morgoth snickered to himself as he led Sauron down many steep flights of stairs. When they reached the dungeon in which stood the showers, Morgoth watched as Sauron disrobed.
“It looks like you forgot something”, Morgoth remarked as he leaned against the door frame with his arms folded.
“What are you talking about?” asked Sauron absent-mindedly as he looked for the cord to turn on the water.
“When you took that form – I mean, it’s very pretty and all”, said Morgoth, “but you forgot something”.
“What?” Sauron whirled around to face him, clearly annoyed by any criticism of his fair form.
“Your twaddlies”, said Morgoth.
“My what?” asked Sauron.
“Your dingly-danglies – you know, your dangly bits”.
“What are you saying?” shouted Sauron.
“Well, are you supposed to be a lord or a maid?”
“A lord! A beautiful elf lord! What does it look like I am?” By now Sauron was quite red faced and angry.
“Then where’s your whatzit?” asked Morgoth, pointing to a spot between Sauron’s loins.
Sauron ducked his head down to look between his legs. He was as smooth and anatomically incorrect there as a child’s doll.
“What the FUUUUCKKKK????!!!!!” he screamed.
“When you have to go potty, how do you do it?” asked Morgoth.
“Aaaahhhhhhh!!!” screamed Sauron. “Don’t say it!! I have to go NOW!! Don’t talk about it!! What am I going to do?????”
“Beats me”, said Morgoth, and with one hand reached up and pulled the master lever that released the icy cold water out of the shower heads. Then he made his way swiftly up the stairs, taking four steps at a time and giggling fiendishly as Sauron’s shrieks of agony resonated gloriously in his ears.