Hi, as you probably learned from the description, this is a story that is part of the Plush Story Collaboration. So, the question was: what would happen if you received Silmarillion plush toys in the mail, and they came to life? This is my attempt at an answer.

'Who knows the counsels of Morgoth?' – J.R.R. Tolkien, The Silmarillion

'Blast!' Andróg brushed away a prickly branch tugging at his knee. 'Neithan, are you sure we are going the right way?' Andróg stopped for a moment to detach an especially tangled blackberry vine from his hair and stumbled after his captain.

Túrin looked forward. 'I think so. Beleg said that it was.' He glanced behind him. 'I do wish you would be more careful and quiet,' he added reproachfully.

Andróg sighed and muttered something less than polite. He was normally a very stealthy, sneaky woodsman, but at the moment he was rather angry with Beleg for deciding to take a nice, little woodsy tramp in the middle of the night. Besides which, he was rather drunk. It was just like Beleg to decide to drag them off through the most unpleasant patch of the forest to Morgoth-knows-where on Yule.

'Hush!' Beleg called back at them, stopping for a moment to give them all a very critical glance before moving on soundlessly and hassle-free through the undergrowth.

'I do not trust him,' Andróg hissed to Túrin. 'He might be leading us to a trap.'

'I second that,' said Mîm.

Andróg looked hard at Mîm, who hated him and never seconded anything he said. The truth was that Mim had seconded quite a few things that Androg had said over the course of their acquaintance, but Androg, like most people who hold grudges, had forgotten to remember the good parts of the relationship, and had instead focused on the bad parts. Considering the relationship in question, focusing on the bad parts was not a hard thing to do.

Mîm ignored the glare and looked up at Túrin. 'We cannot trust him.'

Túrin sighed. 'We can trust him. Beleg taught me everything that I know about the forest and fighting – I am certain he would not wish to waste all that training on a Man who might surpass his skill and fame one day.'

Andróg was unconvinced by Túrin's logic, and a quick glance at Mîm assured him that the Dwarf was as well. He was fairly certain that the Elf would probably want to get rid of Túrin so that he wouldn't surpass his skill and fame one day. But still they trudged on, as Beleg scouted ahead of them, a look of glee at their misery in his bright Elven eyes. It was enough to drive anyone mad.

Two hours of walking later (when Andróg's feet were completely frozen from the snow and ice, and his head was throbbing resplendently from the alcohol) they chanced upon a clearing in the dark woods where the moon shone down eerily through the twisted trees on the snow-frosted earth. Shadows lingered there deep and silent, black and grey across the white snow. Beleg came to a halt.

'I sense a great evil here,' he said quietly, stepping gracefully forward, his bow at the ready. His feet left no impression in the snow.

'That is because there is a great evil here,' came a sudden, menacing voice from the edge of the clearing, and into the light of the pale moon stepped a figure cloaked in black. 'And that would be me!' The figure cast off his black hood, and his white face shone like a pool of spilled milk. 'Sauron the Cruel!'

Beleg froze in fear and gasped. He had not been expecting to see one of Morgoth's greatest servants walking so freely in their land, but Andróg leapt forward, sword in hand. He had been expecting a trap and had thus not been caught off guard. There was also the matter of Andróg not really realizing who Sauron was, which is probably why he felt as bold as he did.

'Your evil will do you no good!' he cried. Crossing the clearing in one bound, he pressed the tip of his sword to Sauron's throat. 'We Men are not as stupid as you Elves think.'

Sauron smirked. 'I am not an Elf,' he said, pulling Andróg's sword away before he had a chance to react. He looked down at it with mild curiosity for a moment before snapping it clean in two and throwing the two halves in opposite directions. 'I am a Maia and an evil Maia at that. And I can do this!' He made his fiery eyes flame up brightly as if they would set the whole wood ablaze.

Andróg slunk back, quaking with fear.

Sauron looked quite proud of himself. He gave another little smirk and snapped his fingers. From the dark forest stepped an innumerable host of Orcs – complete with a Balrog. Sauron looked even prouder of himself and wriggled with evil excitement.

'Now,' he said, when he saw that the little party were gathered together, disarmed, surrounded, and with no hope of escape. 'I am so thrilled to be able to deliver this very important message to you.'

'What message?' demanded Túrin, who was struggling valiantly but vainly against the Orcs who held him fast.

'Oh, just a message from Morgoth detailing how your life will be ruined,' Sauron said nonchalantly, blowing on his already dry black nail polish. He turned with a sudden wicked sweep towards Túrin and gave him his most devilish smile. 'Wydjyuask?'

'Because you said it was important,' said Túrin sourly.

'Oh, yes, it is.' Sauron glanced up at the sky. 'I'm truly sorry, but it doesn't look like I'll have time to torture you tonight,' he apologized. 'I do have quite a bit of work to do to get you ready, and my Orcs aren't too fond of daylight and all that.' He shrugged and sighed, giving them a remorseful smile.

'That's quite all right with us, actually,' Beleg assured him.

Sauron raised his eyebrows and drew his fingers thoughtfully across Beleg's face for a moment, ruefully contemplating all the ways he could ruin it. He sighed again but then clapped his hands together and gave them all his best attempt at a sunny smile (which failed quite dreadfully). 'Fine, let's get down to business then. This mainly involves you, Túrin, since you are the main player in Melkor's latest scheme.'

'What scheme would that be?' Túrin asked, narrowing his eyes.

'His I-shall-take-my-revenge-on-my-despised-enemy-Húrin-by-bringing-about-the-deaths-and/or-ruin-of-his-entire-family-one-by-one-or-at-the-same-time-it-doesn't-really-matter-which-but-one-by-one-sounds-more-dramatic-by-using-their-own-faults-against-them-so-that-they-destroy-themselves-hopefully-sneaking-a-good-bit-of-incest-in-there-since-that-always-makes-things-juicy-where-was-I-ah-yes-destroy-themselves-whilst-my-despised-enemy-Húrin-watches-unable-to-help-them-thus-making-his-life-a-real-nightmare-their-lives-a-real-horror-my-own-life-one-big-happy-picnic-and-creating-an-epic-tragedy-all-at-the-same-time-aren't-I-a-genius? scheme,' Sauron said in one breath.

'Oh,' said Túrin.

'Yes, unfortunately, the immeasurable patience of Melkor has began to run dry (mainly due to some silly incident involving that whatdyucallim…Turgon! chap), so he has decided to speed things up a bit.'

'How?' asked Túrin nervously.

Sauron just grinned diabolically and pulled out a strange cardboard box. 'You'll see.'

A/N: By the way, it is possible to say Morgoth's scheme all in one breath; I tried.