The Barrow-Downs Discussion Forum - View Single Post - The Mount Zoom Challenge

Maeggaladiel · 04-13-2006, 11:55 PM

Evil is what we do best.

Sauron reclaimed what little dignity he had left and looked over the engine room. It was in turmoil. Rats scurried here and there, bits and pieces of machinery that looked half-destroyed were strewn across the floor. A pair of trolls huddled fearfully in one corner, and a third stood as a pillar of stone in another.

“WHAT IS GOING ON DOWN HERE?!” Sauron demanded. “YOU TROLLS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE RUNNING THE ENGINE!”

“We can’t!” one troll wailed. “Rats hurt us!” Mouth rolled his eyes.

“But they’re just rats, and you’re trolls,” he said slowly. “How could they hurt you?”

“Dey kill Steve!” cried the other troll. “Lookit!” He pointed a stubby finger at the third troll. It had been turned to stone.

“Steve brings in da rats cuz dey were cute. Dere were just two, but den we turn our back on dem for five minutes, and now dere’s two hundred and seventy eight! Where dey come from?!”

“Er…” Mouth said uncomfortably. “Well… I guess it’s time you knew…” But before Mouth had to say anything else, the troll went on without him.

“But den, da rats chomp on roof; eat hole in ceiling! Sun come in and kill Steve! Now we afraid to go over dere, cuz rats eat more ceiling and kill Bob and Fred!”

Mouth sighed.

“WAIT…” Sauron began, confused. “WE’RE INA MOUNTAIN. HOW DID THEY CHEW THROUGH--”

“So what happened next?” Mouth interrupted. The trolls exchanged glances.

“We panic,” Fred explained. “We throw things, try make rats go away.”

“WHAT DID YOU THROW?” Sauron asked.

“Muffler.”

“Carburetor.”

“Chunks of engine.”

“Some big gears.”

“Soda cooler.”

“Not really work.”

Mouth sighed haggardly.

“Perfect,” he said. “Just perfect. Now we’re stuck here.” All this time, Sauron had been eying the hungry little animals. So greedy… They reminded him of something…

“I HAVE JUST THE THING!” Sauron said. Telling the Mouth to stay put, the Dark Lord ran up the stairs to his room. Mouth could hear clanking, squealing, hissing, creaking, and the occasional muted cursing drifting down from the room above. Oh jeez. What was he up to now?

During this time, a large brown rat had discovered the leftover craft supplies from the brief counterfeiting scheme, and decided to eat Sauron’s crayons, one color at a time. It had just finished last green and was moving into the yellows by the time Sauron returned. The Dark Lord gripped a small box in his hands, and he seemed quite pleased with himself. (As pleased as an expressionless suit of armor could look, that is.)

“THEY ARE COMPLETE, MY MOUTH!” Sauron roared triumphantly. Mouth flicked a small gray rat off his shoulder.

“Dare I ask what is complete, my lord?” Mouth asked, fearing he’d get an answer whether he specifically asked or not. The Dark Lord held out the little box as though it were made of pure gold.

“BEHOLD,” Sauron said. “THE TWO-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-EIGHT MINI RINGS OF POWER!!” He flicked open the lid of the box, and 278 miniature gold and silver rings glistened in the lamplight. The rats stared at the shinyness, completely entranced.

“I HAVE FORGED THEM IN THE FIRES OF MOUNT ZOOM,” Sauron explained. “I FIGURED, HEY, IF THE HUMANS WERE STUPID ENOUGH TO FALL FOR IT, THE RATS MIGHT TOO.” As though in a trance, the rodents all moved slowly towards the Dark Lord and his gleaming box.

“SMALL RODENTY THINGS!” Sauron yelled to the rats. “I, THE DARK LORD SAURON, WISH TO PRESENT YOU WITH A GIFT OF PEACE AND UNDERSTANDING AND ALL THAT NONSENSE!” He held the box aloft, and the rats’ eyes glinted greedily. “IN THESE MAGICAL RINGS ARE THE POWER TO RULE THE ENTIRE RATTY RACE! AND I GIVE THEM TO YOU IN A GESTURE OF GOODWILL AND… STUFF.” With that, the Dark Lord set the box down on the floor. He and Mouth distributed the rings amongst the small animals.

“Now what?” Mouth asked. Sauron leaned back in the driver’s seat, looking smug.

“WATCH.”

The rats sniffed at the bands of gold and silver, each ring intricately wrought with superb craftsmanship. Then, slowly, they lifted the rings above their heads. Florescent lights glinted off 278 specks of gold and silver. And then, the rats slid the rings over their fingers…

SKRREEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKK!!

“BEHOLD!” Sauron yelled gleefully. “MY NEWEST MINIONS, THE RAT WRAITHS!!”

Two hundred and seventy eight tiny cloaked figures now stood at attention in front of the dark lord. Two hundred and seventy eight pairs of beady black eyes remained transfixed on his great helmet, each awaiting their master’s call. One figure’s face was stained with melted crayon wax.

Sauron folded his arms over his chest smugly.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK? PRETTY WICKED, HUH?”

Mouth took a moment to consider this. They were kind of cute, in a strange sort of demented way, but they didn’t seem particularly useful. Their eyes didn’t glow with the fires of a thousand hells; their very presence didn’t inspire absolute terror in the hearts of the strongest men; they couldn’t even shriek properly. They’d be absolutely no help in keeping the door-to-door salesmen out of Mordor, at any rate.

“Well… they’re kind of… pathetic…” Mouth said, bending over to examine one. He poked it in the face, and it did not respond. “I mean, they don’t even have weapons of ultimate doom like the Nasgul do. And they don’t have any steeds. Are they supposed to scurry everywhere?”

“HMM,” Sauron mused. “YOU MAY HAVE A POINT. OKAY, WHEN WE GET HOME, I’LL ENSLAVE AND MUTATE A FLOCK OF PIGEONS FOR THEM TO RIDE. BUT FOR NOW, I HAVE A SPECIAL JOB FOR OUR NEW FAMILY MEMBERS TO DO.”

--

“COMMENCE OPERATION: PLAGUE-GROUND! FIRE CATAPULT!” Sauron bellowed, and the cardboard box filled with thirty-five Ratgul was flung high over Mount Zoom and sailed through the air, towards Minas Taxi. “HEE HEE. I AM SO EVIL.”

He looked down. A handful of Ratgul were polishing the hubcaps of Mount Zoom, a few were fixing the scratch on the rear bumper, one was painting tiny graffiti on a rock (“Sauron is mad cool, yo!”), and over a hundred were chained to the front of the Mountain, pulling it along like a chariot and giving it an extra burst of speed. The rest were either repairing the engine or baking cookies. Evil cookies. Sauron felt completely satisfied with the project.

“IT IS GOOD BEING ME, MOUTH.”

“I wouldn’t know, my lord.”

04-13-2006, 11:55 PM	#54
Maeggaladiel Ghost Prince of Cardolan Join Date: Mar 2004 Location: The end of the world as we know it. I feel fine, incidentally. Posts: 500	Evil is what we do best. Sauron reclaimed what little dignity he had left and looked over the engine room. It was in turmoil. Rats scurried here and there, bits and pieces of machinery that looked half-destroyed were strewn across the floor. A pair of trolls huddled fearfully in one corner, and a third stood as a pillar of stone in another. “WHAT IS GOING ON DOWN HERE?!” Sauron demanded. “YOU TROLLS ARE SUPPOSED TO BE RUNNING THE ENGINE!” “We can’t!” one troll wailed. “Rats hurt us!” Mouth rolled his eyes. “But they’re just rats, and you’re trolls,” he said slowly. “How could they hurt you?” “Dey kill Steve!” cried the other troll. “Lookit!” He pointed a stubby finger at the third troll. It had been turned to stone. “Steve brings in da rats cuz dey were cute. Dere were just two, but den we turn our back on dem for five minutes, and now dere’s two hundred and seventy eight! Where dey come from?!” “Er…” Mouth said uncomfortably. “Well… I guess it’s time you knew…” But before Mouth had to say anything else, the troll went on without him. “But den, da rats chomp on roof; eat hole in ceiling! Sun come in and kill Steve! Now we afraid to go over dere, cuz rats eat more ceiling and kill Bob and Fred!” Mouth sighed. “WAIT…” Sauron began, confused. “WE’RE INA MOUNTAIN. HOW DID THEY CHEW THROUGH--” “So what happened next?” Mouth interrupted. The trolls exchanged glances. “We panic,” Fred explained. “We throw things, try make rats go away.” “WHAT DID YOU THROW?” Sauron asked. “Muffler.” “Carburetor.” “Chunks of engine.” “Some big gears.” “Soda cooler.” “Not really work.” Mouth sighed haggardly. “Perfect,” he said. “Just perfect. Now we’re stuck here.” All this time, Sauron had been eying the hungry little animals. So greedy… They reminded him of something… “I HAVE JUST THE THING!” Sauron said. Telling the Mouth to stay put, the Dark Lord ran up the stairs to his room. Mouth could hear clanking, squealing, hissing, creaking, and the occasional muted cursing drifting down from the room above. Oh jeez. What was he up to now? During this time, a large brown rat had discovered the leftover craft supplies from the brief counterfeiting scheme, and decided to eat Sauron’s crayons, one color at a time. It had just finished last green and was moving into the yellows by the time Sauron returned. The Dark Lord gripped a small box in his hands, and he seemed quite pleased with himself. (As pleased as an expressionless suit of armor could look, that is.) “THEY ARE COMPLETE, MY MOUTH!” Sauron roared triumphantly. Mouth flicked a small gray rat off his shoulder. “Dare I ask what is complete, my lord?” Mouth asked, fearing he’d get an answer whether he specifically asked or not. The Dark Lord held out the little box as though it were made of pure gold. “BEHOLD,” Sauron said. “THE TWO-HUNDRED AND SEVENTY-EIGHT MINI RINGS OF POWER!!” He flicked open the lid of the box, and 278 miniature gold and silver rings glistened in the lamplight. The rats stared at the shinyness, completely entranced. “I HAVE FORGED THEM IN THE FIRES OF MOUNT ZOOM,” Sauron explained. “I FIGURED, HEY, IF THE HUMANS WERE STUPID ENOUGH TO FALL FOR IT, THE RATS MIGHT TOO.” As though in a trance, the rodents all moved slowly towards the Dark Lord and his gleaming box. “SMALL RODENTY THINGS!” Sauron yelled to the rats. “I, THE DARK LORD SAURON, WISH TO PRESENT YOU WITH A GIFT OF PEACE AND UNDERSTANDING AND ALL THAT NONSENSE!” He held the box aloft, and the rats’ eyes glinted greedily. “IN THESE MAGICAL RINGS ARE THE POWER TO RULE THE ENTIRE RATTY RACE! AND I GIVE THEM TO YOU IN A GESTURE OF GOODWILL AND… STUFF.” With that, the Dark Lord set the box down on the floor. He and Mouth distributed the rings amongst the small animals. “Now what?” Mouth asked. Sauron leaned back in the driver’s seat, looking smug. “WATCH.” The rats sniffed at the bands of gold and silver, each ring intricately wrought with superb craftsmanship. Then, slowly, they lifted the rings above their heads. Florescent lights glinted off 278 specks of gold and silver. And then, the rats slid the rings over their fingers… SKRREEEEEEEEEEEEEKKKK!! “BEHOLD!” Sauron yelled gleefully. “MY NEWEST MINIONS, THE RAT WRAITHS!!” Two hundred and seventy eight tiny cloaked figures now stood at attention in front of the dark lord. Two hundred and seventy eight pairs of beady black eyes remained transfixed on his great helmet, each awaiting their master’s call. One figure’s face was stained with melted crayon wax. Sauron folded his arms over his chest smugly. “WHAT DO YOU THINK? PRETTY WICKED, HUH?” Mouth took a moment to consider this. They were kind of cute, in a strange sort of demented way, but they didn’t seem particularly useful. Their eyes didn’t glow with the fires of a thousand hells; their very presence didn’t inspire absolute terror in the hearts of the strongest men; they couldn’t even shriek properly. They’d be absolutely no help in keeping the door-to-door salesmen out of Mordor, at any rate. “Well… they’re kind of… pathetic…” Mouth said, bending over to examine one. He poked it in the face, and it did not respond. “I mean, they don’t even have weapons of ultimate doom like the Nasgul do. And they don’t have any steeds. Are they supposed to scurry everywhere?” “HMM,” Sauron mused. “YOU MAY HAVE A POINT. OKAY, WHEN WE GET HOME, I’LL ENSLAVE AND MUTATE A FLOCK OF PIGEONS FOR THEM TO RIDE. BUT FOR NOW, I HAVE A SPECIAL JOB FOR OUR NEW FAMILY MEMBERS TO DO.” -- “COMMENCE OPERATION: PLAGUE-GROUND! FIRE CATAPULT!” Sauron bellowed, and the cardboard box filled with thirty-five Ratgul was flung high over Mount Zoom and sailed through the air, towards Minas Taxi. “HEE HEE. I AM SO EVIL.” He looked down. A handful of Ratgul were polishing the hubcaps of Mount Zoom, a few were fixing the scratch on the rear bumper, one was painting tiny graffiti on a rock (“Sauron is mad cool, yo!”), and over a hundred were chained to the front of the Mountain, pulling it along like a chariot and giving it an extra burst of speed. The rest were either repairing the engine or baking cookies. Evil cookies. Sauron felt completely satisfied with the project. “IT IS GOOD BEING ME, MOUTH.” “I wouldn’t know, my lord.” __________________ "Wide ne bith wel," cwaeth se the geheirde on helle hriman.