A/N: This is a piece of random humor. If the character are close to canon, it’s probably coincidence. We don’t own anyone, except Siarl, Jo and Lisa. Enjoy, laugh, and review, or else I’ll give you the Squinty Glare of Doom.
Aragorn Gets Brainwashed
Chapter 4.3421 : The Orange-Haired Sauron
The soldiers threatened both Siarl and Aragorn until they allowed themselves to be taken away.
“Where are you taking us?” Aragorn asked again.
“I told you,” snapped Timmy, “to Lord Sauron.”
“You needn’t bother,” Aragorn informed him “He won’t be looking for me for a few thousand more years.”
Timmy looks slightly confused but turned the expression skillfully into a glare. “We would like to save him the time.”
“Ah, but the pursuit would not be half so interesting,” our ranger encouraged.
“It’s his choice, not ours.”
“Is it really?” he tried again.
Aragorn made an annoyed sound and gave up. The rest of their walk to the throne room was largely uneventful. Siarl started to try and bribe his way out with a chess-set at one point (which is actually shocking, since he is very protective of his sets), but it had no effect on the men, who had never heard of chess and rather liked their heads more than a game.
Finally they came to a set of large, hot pink doors on which golden dandelions were painted (if you would like to understand this inside joke, you must talk to Pippin). The doors swung open ominously and Timmy called, “My Lord Sauron, we have them.”
“Enter,” said a deep and Darth-Vador-like voice.
Aragorn tried not to shake in utter terror. Siarl wondered if Sauron would take the chess set.
Our two heroes were shoved in and the guards left. AHHH! thought Aragorn. I’M ALONE IN A ROOM WITH SAURON!
Not alone, Siarl told him. …Completely.
Oh. Right. WE’RE alone in a room with Sauron.
Sauron, who at this time had two eyes, a nose, mouth, and any other normal feature a normal human being would own, studied Aragorn darkly. He (Sauron) had blondish-reddish hair, not at all what one would expect, and surprisingly black eyes (he later tried to keep up his look with the whole “eye of fire” thing, which was actually much more impressive that his current appearance). Despite the odd hair and eyes, he was rather attractive for someone as evil as himself. But neither of our male characters really noticed that, as they were both not inclined to think of other males as attractive.
Aragorn clenched his jaw, but eventually was forced to meet Sauron’s eyes by the pressure they put on him. He was very surprised by the whole orange-hair-black-eyes thing we have previously described, and couldn’t help staring. Sauron looked him up and down, then his eyes narrowed. (Sauron’s narrow-eyed-glare is much more nerve-wracking than Stanley’s.) Aragorn bit his lip.
Without saying anything, Sauron took a look at Siarl. Siarl was surprised by how much the man reminded him of a dragon he had once been in contact with, and immediately he was terrified (any mention of dragons–or slugs–has a way of unnerving Siarl).
Sauron turned back to Aragorn. “Tell me, what is your name?”
Aragorn considered this a moment. “Estel, I am called by some.”
The elvish name was not lost on Sauron’s highly educated and working ears. “Have I seen you before?”
“Perhaps. Perhaps not.”
Sauron gave him a level, glare-ish look before turning to a glass at his elbow. It looked like it held wine, but Siarl later said it was more like Cool Aid. “My men say you were found in the Highest Lord Melkor’s sacred place. Is this true?”
“Yes,” Aragorn said bluntly.
“And what, may I ask, where you doing there?”
“Trying to get out.”
Sauron raised a blond-and-nearly-invisible eyebrow, then took a sip of his drink. “Why were you there in the first place?”
“It was an accident.”
“I’m sure.” The lord fingered his cup. “Do you realize that one man–much less two–could never make it past the many guards I have guarding that place? How do you explain that?”
“Time warps and mental capabilities.”
Sauron once again raised one eyebrow. “Now I feel we are getting somewhere. Explain further.”
Aragorn tilted his head slightly. “I don’t believe I will.”
“You will if you–or your friend, Siarl’s–life mean anything,” Sauron threatened darkly.
Aragorn was, amazingly, unfazed. “Tell me this: since when do the Maiar need food or drink?” Maiar: You poor souls don’t know what that is? You can find out in the Silmarillion. In short: it’s basically a spirit, an angel. Sauron happens to be one of them.
Back home, reading this story, many fans gave a whoop at Aragorn’s smart comeback.
Sauron glared openly. “I am no Maiar.”
“Oh yes, you are,” Aragorn said firmly. “I know more than you think.”
Sauron waved his hand dismissively. “It makes no difference, seeing as if I find both of you unuseful you will be dead within an hour.”
“Unuseful?” Aragorn said sarcastically. Living in the same house as Legolas (many of our characters stay at Jo’s house, we’re not sure why), the grammar nut, had taught him some things.
“No use to my needs,” Sauron clarified.
Sauron started playing with his cup again. “Explain `time warps and mental capabilities’ to me, or sacrifice yourselves.”
“Explain what you’ve been doing to the king,” Aragorn countered.
“I am only helping the king see the truth.”
“I’m sure you are. It’s the correct Truth, I do hope.”
“It is,” Sauron said firmly.
Aragorn popped out his elvish knowledge. “I Lhen I na vi Eru.” the the God
Sauron caught himself about to glare and remained calm, cool and collected. “You look tired. Here, sit down. Have a drink.”
“I am disinclined to acquiesce your offer.”
“I insist.” Sauron’s voice was slightly threatening. “Sit. Please.” He motioned to two chairs.
Aragorn slowly sat, Siarl following his example. Our ranger eyed Sauron warily, ready for whatever trick was coming. Sauron clapped and two slaves appeared, pouring both our characters drinks.
“Here, drink,” Sauron commanded.
“No,” said Aragorn.
Sauron’s tone became honey-sweet. “Please, it’s a custom here to drink what your host serves.”
“I am sorry, I do not drink.”
The red-haired man sounded convincing. “It’s not ale, just water, as you can plainly see.”
“I don’t trust your water.”
Waving his hand, Sauron said, “Come now, let’s not get edgy. You’ve nothing to fear here.”
“Oh, really,” Aragorn said, his tone hinting at sarcasm.
“Really,” Sauron assured.
“I don’t trust you.”
“There’s no need to distrust here. We are seated as equals, both nearly at the other’s mercy.” Sauron sipped his own drink, and somehow our two characters felt dry as dust just watching. “Go on,” the lord insisted, “I can tell you’re thirsty.”
“I am not thirsty,” Aragorn said evenly, “nor do I see us as `equals.'” Siarl, however, was watching his glass with a tempted expression. Aragorn noticed and poked him. To Sauron, he continued, “Nor do I see you as `at my mercy.'”
Three girls were brought out. “Perhaps it’s entertainment that you seek then? Aren’t they lovely?”
“Not particularly,” Aragorn said blatantly.
The girls disappeared. “Then what is it you seek, if not drink or entertainment, by coming to Númenor?”
“I wasn’t seeking anything. I told you, it was a complete accident. Although I have, perhaps, found the deepest desire of many of my kin.”
“By `accident’ you say, and by `portals’ and `mind,’ but still you have yet to explain further.”
“Then do so.”
“Not to you.”
“And why not?” Again Sauron sounded very genuine. “I am the highest trusted of the king and the people.”
“If you can buy your supposed `trust’ by force, yes,” Aragorn said, appearing slightly mad–or something akin to that emotion. “In any case, I know you better than you think, and I find every reason not to trust you.”
Sauron slowly and purposefully set down his glass in a way that made both Aragorn and Siarl feel apprehensive. In a deep voice that was calm, yet terribly frightening he said, “I’ve tried to give you a chance, tried to let you both use the ease way, but it seems you are determined to die no matter what I do, and so you shall.” He sighed. “But being the merciful man I am, I’m willing to give you one more chance.”
“Merciful,” Aragorn choked. “Ha.”
Leaning forward, Sauron locked eyes with our ranger. “Tell me, how did you really get here, and what is this talk of `portals’ and `mind influence.'”
Aragorn did not waver. “No.”
Sauron continued to stare into his eyes. Then he sent in a small probe (i.e. tried to enter his mind). Aragorn jerked back, unprepared and disgusted. Sauron smirked and pressed it. Though Aragorn tried to stop him, Sauron overpowered him and got in. Our ranger started gagging from the feeling of Sauron in him.
The probe extended as Sauron searched through Aragorn’s memories. Panting and trying to swallow down the nausea, Aragorn attempted to get his wit back. He realized that Sauron was looking over the Council of Elrond. With a sudden burst of energy, Aragorn wrenched his mind away from Sauron.
The room materialized around him again (rooms have a way of disappearing when you’re fighting an inward battle). Sauron was watching him, and he raised his eyebrows.
“Impressive, Aragorn, son of Arathorn.”
Aragorn winced, sure this was the end of the road.
Sauron continued, “But I’ve only just begun your test.” Then he plunged back into Aragorn.
The latter choked and came to a decision: His memories were too precious. This could be the end of me, but…
And he placed a memory block.