Some Idol Noise
Ringwraith #4's invisible eyes fluttered open. His head hurt again. Hadn't he just been through all this? His ears were ringing, too. Wait, not ringing, but singing... or at least he was hearing some singing. It sounded awfully merry and nonsensical. It was strange, though,... because somehow... it brought back memories...
*Picture blurs out for flashback sequence*
Quote:
King Gnick (the previous persona of Ringwraith #4) stood in his throne room, his loyal subjects standing all around him. The people's garb and the arichtecture tell that it is far to the East of Middle Earth. The room is large, with a high ceiling, as well as the usual four walls and a floor, and large stone pillars at regular intervals. Tapestries depicting hunts and victories at war adorn the walls and low tables and cushions are scattered everywhere. The guests have long finished eating, and servants are just finishing removing the remains of the feast.
The King stands. Everyone turns and looks at him. He speaks:
"Truly this is a grand day. I am so happy to have so many fine subjects to fill my hall with gladness on this feastday. It is very nice that I have such servants and a palace to hold so grand a party." (A band in the background begins playing softly) "It is very nice that we have this time of peace to enjoy such festivites." (Music picks up) "It is so nice that I am king of our fair land." (Music swells) "It is so nice... to be... King!"
And with that King Gnick launches into a rather long musical number titled So Nice To Be King. The lyrics are not recited due to the sheer length of the song, and in fact were written down only once and kept by the King. He did not want others to be able to sing his song.
But, as the King sang, much did happen. The crowd joined in chorus as the King strutted down the aisle in front of them. A few fell in behind and formed a V shaped following that perfectly mirrored Gnick's sweeping motions and graceful dancing. The music rose and fell, and then rose higher again. Around the hall the procession went, the King swinging himself around a column here, dancing atop a table there, all the while releasing his every gladness through his song. Once around they went, then the King stood atop his throne and was regally silent as the chorus rose around him. The crowd split, and dancers emerged in the center. Singing and swaying to the tempo, they sang their (short) verse, and the crowd closed around them again, only to part once more for the King. He made a few more rounds around the room before beginning the emotional finale where the music swelled and the crowd lifted him up on their shoulders and strained their voices to hold that last note of joy. And then...
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*ZZZZZZZZZZZZRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIPPPPPPP*
"Number 4? What are you doing?"
"Er... um.... ow my head...?"
"You lazy bum! The rest of us woke up hours ago. Lucky we decided to untie you. Come. We have another problem."
Number 4 got up unsteadily and followed after the Witch King. Not until then did he notice Khamûl, Number 3, and Number 5 were also there. He followed them down the hallways, up the stairs, and through many rooms before they stopped. Even after walking all that way, Number 4 could still hear that blastedly blissful singing. They were in a conference room. The rest of the Nine were there, acting as if they had been waiting forever. Shaking himself to ward off another flashback, Number 4 went over and poured himself a cup of coffee while he listened to the Witch King explain the problem.
"Elves." he started, "about 12 stinking elves somehow managed to get here on Minas Morgo. We must have picked them up when we were on the ground after getting attacked by those Goblins. Well, they've occupied the driving tower and won't stop singing for anything. We need a way to get them off this ship."
"Why don't we just kill them?" asked Number 7.
"If we attack, they might damage the driving mechanism, or more importantly my chair, so we need to get rid of them without making them mad."
"Can't we just sneak up and knock them out?" questioned Number 3.
"You're gonna knock out 12 elves, all at once, without any of them seeing you first? Good luck." the Witch King scoffed in response.
Khamûl interjected, "I have a plan. We make them think it's a contest. A singing contest, they'll love that. Anyway, we say we'll pick them off one by one, an elf per round we'll say, 'worst' singer leaves the platform."
"Okay, and then what? We stuff them in a room?" interrupted Number 9.
"No, once we have each by themselves, we'll knock them out and drop them off the edge. So it'll take a little time, but we can get them out without any hassle this way."
"Great," exclaimed the Witch King, "We'll name this contest
Minas Morgo Idol. Khamûl, it's your idea, you'll be the host. Numbers 3, 4, and 5, you guys are judges."
"But how are we going to stand that blasted singing! And they shine so brightly when we look at them." complained Number 5.
"Here, take these." The Witch King tossed Khamûl, 3, 4, and 5 a few sets of earplugs and a pair of sunglasses for each.
"But with earplugs we won't be able to hear them." Number 4 noted.
"Well, duh!" retorted the Witch King, looking at him strangely, "Now get up there and get started. I'll be in my chocolate vault if you need me."
----------------------------------------------
"Welcome contestants!" shouted Khamûl as he jumped out of the doorway. "Congratulations on making it here!"
The elves stopped singing for a second and looked at him confused. They had no idea why he was wearing sunglasses. Then they shrugged and continued singing. Khamûl continued unhindered... after all, he couldn't hear them.
"Welcome to
Minas Morgo Idol! Today one of you will be the next big star! How will we find out which one? Well let's meet our judges!" And with a sweeping motion of his arm he brought out Numbers 3, 4, and 5. They sat down behind a table that just happened to be right there. "Let's just call them Number 3, Number 4, and Number 5... and now that that's done, let's get this show going! First contestant."
And so the show started. But something was amiss. Unknown to any of them, Ringwraith Number 4 sneakily dislodged his left earplug. He actually wanted to hear the elves sing!
The result was that he randomly flashed back to his 'younger days' and didn't have his head in the contest at all. The other two Ringwraiths had their earplugs firmly in place, and so the contest did not go over exactly as planned. The last two contestants were actually the best and the worst singers of all the elves.
The two, named Katharine and Taylor(
), came up and sang their numbers. The judges looked at each other. Well, Number 3 and Number 5 looked at each other; Number 4 was off in flashback-land. Number 3 voted for Taylor (who was the better singer) and Number 5 voted the opposite way like they had done for every round. Number 4 did nothing. He just sat there, still in his flashback. Number 3 gave him a sharp jab in the ribs and he jerked back into real life. He looked around dumbfounded for a second until his eyes fell upon the two finalists. Strangely, he had actually heard the two during some of the previous rounds, and knew Taylor was better. So he picked him for the win. Katharine left the room in tears, that is, until she was knocked out and tossed down to earth.
"Congratulations Taylor! You are Minas Morgo's Idol!"
Suddenly the three judging Ringwraiths gasped. They all just realized a shortcoming to the plan. There was this one last elf, but no way to get rid of him! But Khamûl just looked at them and smiled an invisible, understanding smile.
"Now Taylor, I know this is a big deal for you, and it will mean great fame and fortune in your near future. But for now, I've got something else to give you." And with that he opened a nearby doorway.
No more had he turned the handle than a stream of overly eager record label spokespersons rushed out. They all set their eyes on Taylor, intent on having him sign with them and only them. Out the door they ran, like a streaming tide, and rampaged across the platform. Taylor turned to run in terror, but there was nowhere to go! Before he could think of anything to do the wave of spokespersons hit him, and he was swept over the edge by the rushing mob, never to be heard from again.
The Ringwraith's took out their earplugs and breathed a sigh of relief. No more singing! The Witch King emerged from one of the stairways, having been alerted by the lack of singing that the elves were gone.
"Great work fellows. Now, let's get this city moving again. On to the
North-West!"