Disclaimer: I don’t own any of Tolkien’s characters, but Ferdawar and Coruon are mine. Ancor… well, you can decide if he’s Tolken’s or mine.

Ancor crept down the long hallway, his lantern illuminating the dark walls. He shivered as a bat flew overhead. He quickly turned down another passageway and entered a large cave. Ferdawar sat at her black stone desk.

“Please, sit.” She waved at a tiny stool nearby. Trembling, Ancor sat down and tried not to show how scared he was.

“I’d like to talk about what happened today.”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t my fault, really. I tripped over Gnor’s foot and he whipped me because all of the-”

“I know what happened. That’s why you’ll be working somewhere else.”

Ancor breathed a sigh of relief. “So…where will I be working?”

Ferdawar smiled, her teeth glittering in the pale light. “I am having some difficultly cross-breeding some of my… experiments and I need someone to help me.”

Ancor gulped. “Okay.”

“Good. You can go back to your cell now. CORUON!” Ancor rushed off as Coruon quickly came in from the other room.

“Hm?”

“Here’s a chance to make up for what you blundered ten years ago.”

“Huh?”

“GO CAPTURE THE KING’S SON, FOOL!”

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Coruon furiously flapped his wings. He hadn’t quite gotten used to flying and though he was an owl, he still swerved and crashed into tree branches. It didn’t help that there was no moon tonight so unexpected obstacles kept on popping up. At least his wings made no sound. He spotted the palace and flailed toward it. Unfortunately he crashed into the wall.

“Ow,” he groaned as he sat up. He spotted a window and flew up. If he didn’t do this right…

“OWWW!!” he shouted. The window wasn’t open after all. “I’m not good at this. Not at all.” He fluttered around, looking for an open window, then saw one. Not being the smartest person, he dive-bombed straight at it. “YAHOOOOOO!!!!” *crash* That one wasn’t open either.

The stories of the fumbles of Coruon the idiot go on and on but let’s skip that. The gist of it was that he finally flew through an open window.

“Hey, I’m not in a bedroom… I’m in the kitchen!” Figuring a snack wouldn’t hurt; he proceeded to dig in. Unfortunately again, the cook walked in just as he was polishing off what was to be her midnight snack.

“AAAAAAGGGGHHH!” she shrieked, waving a spatula at him. Coruon’s flying skills suddenly improved and he flew right out of there.

“Gotta go upstairs, gotta… I’m upstairs!” He was so glad that he flew out of control and smacked right into a sleeping Eldarion. But as the line of Elendil was famous heavy sleeping (Isildur set the record for sleeping from Sunday night all the way to Tuesday afternoon) so Eldarion kept on snoozing. Coruon quickly supersized himself so that he would be able to life the boy, gently plucked him out of bed, headed for the window…
CRASH!!!!

“Why do these people hate opening windows?” he grumbled as he transformed back into his human form, pushed the window open, turned back into an owl and winged away with Eldarion still sleeping in his clutches.

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“HAHAHAHA!” shrieked Ferdawar in triumph.

“HAHAHAHA!” laughed Coruon with delight.

“DON’T LAUGH WHILE I’M LAUGHING!” Ferdawar slapped Coruon.

“Ow. That hurt. Well, what are you gonna do with the little runt? Are you gonna kill him, roast him? Huh? Huh? HUH???”

“You talk too much!” Another slap was heard. “I will not kill him. He will be an interesting… lab rat, shall we say. I’ve been waiting for this chance for a long, long, long; long time… where is he?”

“Um… sleeping, I guess.”

“IT’S SIX PM!!! WHAT IS WRONG WITH HIM??”

“Well, the line of Elendil is famous for sleeping. In the Guinness Book of Middle-Earth Records, Isildur-”

“SHUT UP!” Ferdawar cuffed her imbecile of a servant. A thud was heard as Coruon fell unconscious to the floor.

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Ancor patted the fell beast’s neck. “Hmm… Ferdawar crossed you with dragon #12 and Fell Beast #23. I guess I’ll have to give you that potion now.” He reached for the potion. The label said:
DON’T DRINK THIS OR YOU’LL EXPLODE, FOOL

“Must not be the right one. Oh, here it is-AGH!”

The potion slipped from his hand and… crashed to the floor.

“Oops. Ferdawar’s going to kill me.” Ancor picked up the broken pieces of the bottle and quickly dumped it into the waste hole. The potion quickly oozed all over the floor. The fell beast sniffed it, and wrinkled his nostrils.

“Um… I guess that’s it. What am I going to call you anyway?”
The beast snorted.

“Snort?”

“RRAAARGH!”

“Or… Noodle?”

“RRRRRAAAASRRRGHHHAAA!!!”

“Okay! Uh… how about Snarkie? It means ‘winged fighter’.”

“Gruff.”

“I’ll take that as a yes, then.”

“ANCOR!” Ferdawar strode into the room, her dress whipping her ankles.

“Yes?”

“Did you give him the potion?”

“Um… no.”

“WHY NOT?”

“I couldn’t… find it.”

Ferdawar sighed and waved her hand. A new bottle of elixir appeared.

“Try not to lose this one.” She stalked away.

“Okay.” Ancor twisted open the container and poured it into Snarkie’s mouth, who let out the most blood-curdling screech.

“I have to go back to my home; I’ll see you later.”

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Ancor flopped down onto his small pile of rags that served as a bed. He peered into a hole that opened into the cell next door. He could fit inside if he tried hard enough, but he didn’t feel like it right now. He saw a heap of something, which he took to be an extra mound of material at first, but when it began snoring, he knew it was something… alive. He leaned as far as he could into the hole.

“Hello?”

Nothing happened.

“Wake up!”

Still no sign that he had been heard. Ancor sighed. He squeezed and wiggled through the hole. He now saw that it was a boy, maybe a couple years older than him.

“WAKE UP AND SPIT; THE WORLD’S ON FIRE!”

“AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!”

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Eldarion shot out of his sleep and stared at the person in front of him.

“Who are you? Speak quickly, or I shall have you removed from the palace!”

Ancor wrinkled his brow. “Are you crazy? If this is a palace, I’m a kumquat.”

“WHAT AM I DOING HERE?”

“How should I know?”

Eldarion stood up. Ancor could see that he was wearing clothes that looked pretty expensive.

“I demand to be taken to the palace this instant. I am the king’s son.”

“What king?”

“What king? The King. The King of Gondor!”

Ancor rolled his eyes. This guy was obviously a bit cracked. “Look, Mr. Kingson, this isn’t Gondor. In fact, I don’t think I can take you to a palace unless we get out from here.”

Eldarion gaped at him. “You mean…”

“Uh-huh. Welcome to the Underworld.”

“Under where?”

Ancor heaved a sigh. “I think we’re under the ruins of some place called Minas Morgul. By the way, I’m Ancor.”

“Ancor?”

“It means ‘shadow’. What’s yours?”

“My name’s Eldarion. Nice to meet you.” And with that Eldarion plunked down and began snoring.

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Ferdawar and Coruon stood at the top of the tower of Minas Morgul. It had withstood all of Aragorn’s efforts to throw down.

“How’s production?” snapped Ferdawar.

“It’s great! That new chemical you invented has doubled the number of Orcs!” Coruon grinned.

“Excellent. What about the forges?”

Coruon’s smile faded. “Well, the mines are producing well. It’s just that we’re running out of coal to supply the fires.”

Ferdawar’s eyes glowed red. “The forest of Ithilien lies right on our doorstep. Burn it.”

“You know, that sounds kind of familiar. Did you steal that from Saruman?”

“Never mind!!”

“There’s one problem. We can just burn every tree in it. Some of the trees give off smoke that can ruin the metals. Hickory works best for fuel. Oak and maple do well, too.”

“THEN GET THOSE TREES!”

“There’s another problem. Most of the Orcs can’t tell a fir from an alder.”
Ferdawar stroked her chin, and then her eyes glowed again. “Then we’ll get Ancor to do it.”

“Are you sure that’s wise? I mean-”

“Don’t question what I do! Ancor has no idea who he is or that he really is the Steward’s missing son.”

Coruon’s face brightened. “Oh, I see.”

“Good. Go get him. He can begin marking the trees tonight. Tomorrow night, we’ll send the Orcs out to chop them into firewood.”

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