The Mouth of Sauron

Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Ring. The book, nor the movie. What are you gonna do? I also do not own the Mentholatum Company.

Note: Just a little idea of the Mouth of Sauron's home life. The wife and the names are mine.

The horrible voice of the Lord Sauron called into the small adobe of stone on the foot of Mount Doom. "Honey, I'm home." He stepped into his home. He took off his helmet and set it on the table.

He went to his chair and sat dow3n. It was an overstuffed lounge chair coated in mold and mildew. The Mouth reached over to the end table and grabbed a jar of mentholatum.

"Darling, you're home!" squealed a ditzy voice from the kitchen. Out came a human woman. She wore a pink dress with a sky blue apron overtop. She had blond hair. She was a perfect, prissy housewife.

"Sarah," the Mouth smiled with rotten, black, decaying teeth.

"How was your day, Steven?"

"I gave a speech to a group of young orcs. It was very enlightening. Then I preached the words of Lord Sauron to a group of soldiers," his voice was horse and evil.

"Would you like some tea, dear?"

"Tea? TEA? Sarah, we live on the foot of Mount Doom! Do you think I want to get hotter?"

Sarah rolled of the attack. "What about some iced tea?"

The Mouth nodded and continued to coat the mentholatum onto his lips and skin. He could feel the immense sting on the cracks of the chapped, sick, skin.

Sarah returned with the iced tea and the Mouth took it from her. He slowly sipped it as he endured the pain as recovered from a hard day's work pleasing his master and teaching the subjects.

"It was very painful today. It gets worse all the time," he said quietly.

"I know, dear," the Stepford wife replied as she went into the kitchen.

"No you don't," Steven whispered.

Sorry about the sappy ending, it's the only way I can end stories.