17. Hung Over and Hung Up
“It is not enough for them to fear you for the ability to kill them, you have to make them fear you for what you can do to them while they're still alive,” Sauron was saying, but his voice was distant and seemed to drone on in the same monotone tone.
Her head had somehow sunk down and was resting against the cool surface of the desk. It felt oddly comfortable to jus lay like that, not fully asleep, not fully awake.
It was almost the same feeling she'd had last night – standing on the threshold of a dream. She smiled faintly, feeling her cheeks burn.
Had last night really happened?
Had she really flown on an eagle high over the land, seeing the beauty of Middle-earth from far above? Had she really drank a whole bottle of Rivendell Refined Red?
“Now, one of the tortures I am very proud of bringing into human life is bad typing.”
“What?” Kelly sounded startled, a reaction shared by many in the class.
“Bad spelling. Whenever you type teh instead of the, it's me.” Sauron beamed proudly.
“Hah! I brought bad grammar into the world,” Morgoth exclaimed from the back of the class where he'd been standing and looking all kinds of sour. “Every your when it should have been you're, that's my curse on the world!”
“This is my class, you git!”
“Git? You're a dork…”
Lina closed her eyes and tuned out. Her hands went to touch the necklace around her neck without even thinking. Gandalf had made it for her, out of the gold from the rock. He had arranged the eagle ride for her also, looking quite worried. Whoever the Headmaster was, it was clearly someone of great power.
It had been wonderful, flying as fast as the wind and finally seeing for real the world of imagination. But the best part of the whole ride had been detecting the small fireplace some distance from the University. The mere thought was enough to bring a smile to her lips again. Gimli and Legolas had been there. And they had invited her to stay, provided se didn't try to tackle Legolas (as many girls had a tendency to do at the mere sight of him).
Legolas had spoken of Mirkwood, Gimli had spoken of deep caves and she had even told them of her world and had some wine (Rivendell Refined Red – the taste was beyond words. So was the hangover). She had flown back with the break of dawn, and now she was paying the price. Her head felt so heavy and her body was screaming in protest.
But had it ever been worth it. Her cheeks still tingled. And mmm, elven wine…
“You're teaching the inferior class! I have the advanced evil!” Morgoth was saying.
“Hah! You were the first, I improved on your plans…”
“You couldn't think of any yourself!”
Dot poked her, sending her a worried look.
“Lina, are you all right? You look flustered Lina? Lina?”
“What? I'm awake,” she muttered, but her voice sounded drowsy.
“A Balrog can whip an Orc's ass any day!”
“Orcs insure armies of greater number!”
“You made them out of ELVES!”
Sleep… The voices seemed to vanish, and she slept.
Her next sensation was that of something very foul smelling, and she opened her eyes to find herself in some dark, dark dungeon, hanging from the roof by the feet.
“I probably shouldn't have fallen asleep in Sauron's class,” she muttered, eyeing the ground. It was just a foot away, oddly enough. And her legs were tied together with a simple rope. It took some work, but she managed to free herself and fell to the ground with a nice “Whamp!”
Now, where the heck was the exit?
Feeling around, she came across something sticky (blood probably), something gooy (best not to think about what that could be), a stack of magazines (EvilDoers Monthly, she was guessing) and finally, something that felt remarkably like a ring.
Just then a door opened and light flooded in.
“Miss Holling, you're awake,” came Sauron's voice, all drippy. “Your essay for next week will be on 'Why I Should Pay Attention to Dark Lords, Especially In Class'. A thousand words, on Monday.”
“Fine,” Lina groaned, and walked past him and into the hallway (she was in the staff section, a part of her brain registered). “By the way, you still have some urple paint on your ass.”
And then she ran like the wind.
After dodging the fireball, she stopped to look at the ring she had picked up. It was thin and silver-ish, with several markings on it. It felt cool in her had, almost as if…
“Hello?” she asked hesitantly.
“Hello there!” came a cherry voice. “I am the First Ring. You know, the one Sauron made before the One. I am the toe ring, but please call me Toey.”
“He made you first?”
“For sure. But for some reason he didn't like my design, or whatever,” the Ring made a snorting sound.
“So can you make people invisible too?”
“Not as such, no.”
“Can you dominated the other rings?”
“Well – it depends how you mean dominate, if you mean dominate as in 'dominate' – then no.”
“What can you do then?”
“I infect bad spelling on people.”
“You infected bad spelling?” Lina asked astonished. Man, her head really, really hurt.
“Yep. Sauron prefers jewellery to do things for him, you see. There's the necklace of 'Can't Get The Song You Hate Out of Your Head' and the bracelet of 'Toast Always Landing Butterside Down'. We've even formed a union. 'Jewellery For Evilness', that's us.”
Lina rubbed her temples. “I'm going to bed,” she said weakly.
“Mind dropping me by Morgoth's room? I think Sauron would appreciate that. Maybe he'll start using me again. I feel so useless these days.”
“Sure,” Lina muttered and began walking down the hallway. She managed to drop Toey off before everything became slightly hazy. Staggering, she stumbled into a bedroom and fell onto the bed.
Soon Lina was sound asleep – in the wrong bed, of course.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.