What the Hell is Going On?

Same Day

I think I've just discovered the multiverse's biggest historical misrepresentation ever. Through wheedling and threats (I'm the wheedler, Ufkoth's the threatener – he's not the 'good cop' type), we managed to squeeze a confession out of Gimbash the Squealer. Okay, in retrospect, he's probably got the tightest lips in all of Mordor, or he wouldn't be Shagrat's right-hand Orc in this operation.

You are seriously not going to believe this shit.

Gimbash did some quality whispering with Shagrat that I couldn't hear. He apparently assumed I have enough Orcish to do more than belt out 70s rock tunes, and kept his voice really low. Then he asked some probing questions.

Gimbash: Whatcha gonna be doin' at the Mountain, eh? Ain't nothin' there.

Me: That kind of information is on a need-to-know basis, and currently, you don't need to know.

Gimbash: Seems like you need us, so maybe I need to know.

Me: Right, and have you toddle off to the Eye and give us away. Huh-uh. You tell me about this list and why it's so important.

Gimbash: You tell me what yer up to, and maybe I'll tell yuh that.

Me: No dice.

Gimbash: Then I ain't talkin'.

Ufkoth: The list doesn't matter. They don't matter.

Me: [patiently] I'm not going to kill a couple of unarmed, tied up prisoners. That is beyond cruel.

Ufkoth: [sneer] They are slimy Mordor rats. They don't deserve better.

Gimbash: [affronted] And what're you, yuh turncoat?

Shagrat: [sneer] Open your eyes. He's a half-breed. [examines Ufkoth] Likely one of those mongrels from Isengard. Worthless. Weak. Like their master.

Ufkoth: [shitty] I was not bred in Isengard, and he is no longer my master!

Me: [claps hands like school teacher] People, people! Settle down.

Gimbash: [more sneering – it's an Orc thing] Yep. Traitor. Didja cut his throat or stab him in the back?

Me: [restraining Ufkoth] Hey! That's enough! Answer me, Gimbash, or I'm unleashing the fury here.

Gimbash: [snide] Go ahead. Don't take much to knock a half-breed down a notch. Won't even have to untie me.

Ufkoth: [unholy roaring]

Sam: [had enough of their shit] We're heading for your Mountain to put an end to your master, if you must know.

Gimbash: [stunned]

Shagrat: [mouth agape]

Me: [sighing] Yes, well... There's that.

Gimbash: Yer jokin'.

Sam: No, I'm not.

Shagrat: [back to sneering] You lie. You can do nothing to him at the Mountain.

Sam: Oh no? Well, as a matter of fact, we can do something...

Me: [hastily] Something that's none of your business, and gosh wouldn't it be great if someone would shut up? [beady eyes on Sam]

Granted, Sam's been on edge, trying to keep his own master from finger-fucking the One Ring in Sauron's back yard. We've all been at that duty 24/7, even Ufkoth. We get a few hours a day of Sane Frodo, and that's it. They're not contiguous hours, either. I'm running out of songs I know, and I've started making things up. Or inserting vague mumbling where I don't know the words. So basically, Sam can be forgiven for losing his temper.

Upshot of the awkward moment is that, following another consultation between Gimbash and Shagrat, the latter finally ponied up.

Gimbash: Yer serious. You can do somethin' to'im. Yuh just need to get to the Mountain.

Me: Yes. It's a decisive blow.

Shagrat: I suppose... we should... trust you, then. Since our goals are the same.

Me: [blinking stupidly] Um... what?

Shagrat: That list. It is contacts. Orcs we have identified as loyal to the Eye. They're crossed out. The ones we can trust, who will... aid us... we've marked.

Me: [stunned] Aid you... how?

Gimbash: We got Orcs ready to take'im out. Some at the gates, some in the Tower itself. Not enough, though.

Shagrat: [frustrated] We're running out of time.

Frodo: How is... Zoop, how can your history tell that he tortured me, when he is leading a rebellion against the dark lord?

Shagrat: [confused] Tortured you? What?

Me: [delicately] So... Gorbag's not on the trusted confidante list, is he?

Shagrat: [sour] No. The little pustule isn't worth the seed it took to make him. [to Frodo] When did I torture you?

Me: [dismissive wave] Water under the bridge. Or it would be if it actually happened. The important thing is that we can help each other.

Ufkoth: Unless they're lying.

Me: [stares expectantly at Shag-bash]

Shagrat: [sigh] What would you have us do?

Frodo: Does It call to you? Can you feel It?

Shag-bash: [exchange bewildered looks]

Me: [mutter] I don't think swearing on the Precious is going to work in this scenario, Frodo. Probably not a good idea...

Shagrat: [glower] Precious? Did you say 'Precious'?

Me: [struggles to remove foot from mouth] No, I didn't. I said... delicious. Mmm, lembas is just delicious, isn't it? [innocent smile]

Shagrat: That little skulker talked about 'precious.' You know what he meant, don't you?

Frodo: I do. It is here. With it, I can command...

Me: [loud interrupt] Jeremiah was a bull frog! Was a good friend of mine! I never understood a single word he said, but I helped him drink his wine. *

All (except me): [stunned silence]

After I effectively shot down Frodo's insane attempt to wave the Ring in front of their faces, we joined forces with the rebel leaders and formulated a plan to sneak across Gorgoroth in spite of the heavy mobilization of forces down there. I had to divert some seriously suspicious looks from Shag-bash once they started familiarizing themselves with the Fonstad maps. As in, where did I get these, how come they're ridiculously detailed, holy crap it's a floor-by-floor representation of Barad-dûr where the fuck did that come from? Hang on fellas, we got one for Isengard, too. I had to reassure them that one of their own cartographers didn't defect.

So we're prepping for go-time now. And if you don't think I'm not all aflutter over hanging out with one of my favorite canon Orcs for a spell, you don't know me very well.

* Joy to the World, by Three Dog Night. Yes, I'm that old.