12.12.04 | Why Sauron Deserves Our Support (Lord Of The Rings Special Edition!)
I know, i know, yer all thinking "Sauron? Why oh why should i show sympathy to such a dark dark dark villain?"
But, People-of-the World!!! I put it to you, that had the Dark Lord been brought up in a loving and fulfilling environment, none of his (And sunsequently Middle Earth's) troubles might have happened!
It's all the fault of the elves and men of course. But mainly the elves.
(Oh, and i point out a weakness in the plot at the end. Just for a laugh.)
Let's look at the historical documents of the case, provided by one Grishnakh, late of Cirith Arsall, and currently working as a lawyer for the U.S. Environmental Protection Agency.
So there you are, a young Sauron, you've fallen in with the wrong crowd (One Morgoth of the Outer Darkness), you've been attracted by his fancy fancy might and majestic dandy-ism, and the fact that he looks a bit like James Dean, all moody and rebellious, and then all these bloody elves and Higher Powers, come along and kick your arse, just because you indulged in a spot of mindless vandalism, and set fire to a few inconsequential continents and other minor things. The kind of thing that countries even get applauded for, these days. You, naturally of course, run like fuck!
But will those evil bastard elves let you forget your past humiliations? No. There they are, poncing around looking all fine and pretty, patronizing everything they come across, even the poor dragons. You try and be nice to them, teaching them how to make those pretty rings, which look just adorable when they catch the light just so, and for what? Nothing! noth-inG! Just more snootiness! And then when they discover that you've gone and made a better ring, they go and declare war on you. Totally unprovoked of course. Laughably consider themselves as "Freedom Fighters", but it's very obvious to you that they're terrorists.
So then there's a war, they win, probably by cheating, AND knock all your nice towers down, and what's worse, destroy yer earthly body with all it's refined good looks, and, after ages, when you've managed to regrow yerself into the form on an eye, (which isn't exactly your idea of "dashing") what happens?
The Final Humiliation, that's what!!!
And it's all the fault of those elves again, isn't it? And it happened at Christmas too. Oh, is there no respect for tradition?
It happens like this:
You've managed to grow yerself a new form. An eye. (Not quite got the manoeuverability of the old body, but when you get that ring back, all will be well again yay). It's Christmas. All the goblins and trolls have been decorating your newly built tower in time for the party on Christmas Eve, when there's a knock on the door. Ooh, it's the postman!
"Special Delivery for Mr Sauron".
For you?!!? Who could it be from?!? Ooh! -It's from The White Council!! Perhaps they want to be friends and are offering reparations in this season of goodwill? Quickly you summon one of the Wraiths from a fancy dress party to rend it's fleshy wrappings (ok, paper) for you...
...And inside is a... Bobble Hat! Just like Santa would wear! Oh, how kind! Tears well up. They want to be friend at last...
So you wear it.
All Christmas Day.
And everyone laughs.
The orcs only have to look at you and they fall around clutching their sides in an agony of mirth. You have to cull thousands before they take you serously again. The trolls cave their own heads in with clubs in ferocious merriment. And you can even sense the Lord of the Nazgul is smirking facelessly when he drops in for some mulled wine and Christmas dinner with you. Charades, as usual, is a complete disaster.
Bastards! All of them. Bastards. But especially the elves.
And the next year, you receive a scarf.
And the year after, some woolly gloves. What the fecking bollocks are you gonna do with bastard gloves! Those accursed elves will pay for taking such mighty piss...!
So you see, good reader, we should have nothing but sympathy for poor old Sauron. Especially as he could never have won anyway. As i shall prove it by sharing the final verses from my now legendary play "Much Ado About Balrogs"
"My noble lord Sauron. O-Greatness!-We have brought the ring for you. AND eaten those pesky hobbits."
"Nice one, geezer. Let's 'ave it then!"
"Certainly my lord. Here it is..."
(A bit more silence)
"...er, My Noble Lord? How do i give it to you?" (mucho stammering with fear) "you, er, don't seem to have er, any hands, er, to, er, wear it wi-"
"Shut it, you insufferable vomm of a goblin! I'm trying to think!"
(Silence. A very long silence)
"Right, got it. bring some stepladders. Chop chop!"
(Stepladders are brought. Much hustle and bustle)
(Ring now sits atop eye. Like little little crown)
(Nothing much seems to happen. Ring slides off and blissfully rolls around the floor for a while)
"Bollocks! Right. Right. Bring me some string... and sellotape... and don't forget the scissors...
Next up: How i defeated The Pope in single combat! (aka: More Bollocks, Vicar?)