G50| A Mouth and His Horse
Mar. 15th, 2012 10:23 am![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
huinare.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
b2memB2MeM Challenge: “The Black Gate Opens” (Alternate Viewpoints).
Format: Ficlet
Genre: General
Rating: PG13ish
Warnings: Brief reference to a gory incident; re-animated animals.
Characters: The Mouth of Sauron
Summary: The Mouth, about to meet the captains of the west, reflects upon his future and his horse.
Authorial Blather! Knowing me, I’d likely have chosen this character for this prompt regardless–but nonetheless, I wanted to give a shout-out to Starlight, Dwim and Altariel, whose great responses to the Mouth of Sauron prompt on the “March 3019” card might have covertly influenced my choice of character here.
The Mouth of Sauron patted his horse on its bony neck. Behind him, the army waited. They’d given the Morannon a wary berth, for such a gate was unbothered by a person or a horse or a company in its way. Its vast weight, aided by the engines animating its movements, could easily sweep the unwary along or aside. Woe betide the minion who got swept into a rut in the process, for there was neither time nor any inclination to halt proceedings for such a one: during a routine test of the Morannon to ensure its proper working order, the Mouth had seen one wretch pulped and ground into a shallow depression in the hard earth when the bottom edge of the gate passed inexorably across him.
The horse shifted and flicked one dark, leathery ear. It had no mane, though it must once have in ages past. Its tail, devoid of hair, was like a bony hound’s tail. Lord Sauron had himself gifted the creature to his Mouth. The Mouth was fond of the horse in his way, and perhaps the sentiment was mutual in its way. It was hard to tell what the beast thought, as it had no eyes to betray itself and evidently no voice–or at least, it had never uttered a sound.
On the ramparts, a lookout had been instructed to signal when the embassy from the western host appeared to be making ready to leave. Only then would Mordor’s messengers come forth in answer. The anxiety of the enemy was to be drawn out, stretched taut until they were easy to break.
It should prove amusing to prolong their anguish in parley. Into the hands of the Mouth had been delivered several tokens with which to accomplish this. Some of their significance had been explained to him, including the particular importance the items might hold for the wizard, the Grey Wanderer. This wizard was of quite a different sort than Saruman the White, who preferred scheming in grand towers. Gandalf evidently had a penchant for humble and obscure things, such as the little people to whom the owner of the tokens had belonged. Lord Sauron had intimated that he had, by threat or bribery, learnt of Gandalf’s fondness for Halflings from Saruman himself.
The Mouth of Sauron smirked vaguely when he considered Saruman and the tower of Orthanc. Once this rabble tramping ridiculously about outside the fence of Mordor was annihilated or cowed, there was Isengard to be considered. Sauron had implied that Saruman might be extracted from that place, and a loyal servant of Mordor installed there.
Orthanc would match his horse, the Mouth reflected with amused satisfaction. The tower and the horse were both dark and angular and somewhat shiny. In the horse’s case, its hide was of an odd blackish-greyish-whitish hue with an unwholesome sheen about it.
Long before the Mouth of Sauron was born–not that he remembered precisely when he’d been born, nor to whom–the animal had met its death in some northern bog, which had preserved it reasonably well. It had somehow fallen into the possession of Sauron during his stint as the Necromancer of Mirkwood. The Mouth was not precisely clear on how the horse had been made to move about again, nor on what type of awareness it had. It clearly could not see, as its eyes hadn’t been preserved; the uncanny flame that had been kindled to dwell somewhere in its sinuses shone out through both its nasal passages and its eye sockets. Its rapport with its rider was such that it trusted him to guide its course. It could certainly hear, for it responded to commands and knew its name. It did not like food or drink or any kind, but it enjoyed praise and petting as much as the next horse.
The animal was quite mild in temperament and also very fragile. It had broken each of its legs at least twice since the Mouth had known it. Really it was a rather useless horse, but for one thing: its appearance, emaciated and mummified and with a fell light behind its empty orbits, terrified virtually everyone who saw it. Terror would be of great service to them now. The Mouth adjusted his robes importantly.
Up on the rampart, over the side facing Mordor, a red banner waved to signal the western embassy’s imminent departure. The drums and horns unleashed a magnificent volley of sound. The Mouth of Sauron patted his steed’s bony neck, threw open the small door in the center of the Morannon, and emerged confidently to meet them.
Format: Ficlet
Genre: General
Rating: PG13ish
Warnings: Brief reference to a gory incident; re-animated animals.
Characters: The Mouth of Sauron
Summary: The Mouth, about to meet the captains of the west, reflects upon his future and his horse.
Authorial Blather! Knowing me, I’d likely have chosen this character for this prompt regardless–but nonetheless, I wanted to give a shout-out to Starlight, Dwim and Altariel, whose great responses to the Mouth of Sauron prompt on the “March 3019” card might have covertly influenced my choice of character here.
The Mouth of Sauron patted his horse on its bony neck. Behind him, the army waited. They’d given the Morannon a wary berth, for such a gate was unbothered by a person or a horse or a company in its way. Its vast weight, aided by the engines animating its movements, could easily sweep the unwary along or aside. Woe betide the minion who got swept into a rut in the process, for there was neither time nor any inclination to halt proceedings for such a one: during a routine test of the Morannon to ensure its proper working order, the Mouth had seen one wretch pulped and ground into a shallow depression in the hard earth when the bottom edge of the gate passed inexorably across him.
The horse shifted and flicked one dark, leathery ear. It had no mane, though it must once have in ages past. Its tail, devoid of hair, was like a bony hound’s tail. Lord Sauron had himself gifted the creature to his Mouth. The Mouth was fond of the horse in his way, and perhaps the sentiment was mutual in its way. It was hard to tell what the beast thought, as it had no eyes to betray itself and evidently no voice–or at least, it had never uttered a sound.
On the ramparts, a lookout had been instructed to signal when the embassy from the western host appeared to be making ready to leave. Only then would Mordor’s messengers come forth in answer. The anxiety of the enemy was to be drawn out, stretched taut until they were easy to break.
It should prove amusing to prolong their anguish in parley. Into the hands of the Mouth had been delivered several tokens with which to accomplish this. Some of their significance had been explained to him, including the particular importance the items might hold for the wizard, the Grey Wanderer. This wizard was of quite a different sort than Saruman the White, who preferred scheming in grand towers. Gandalf evidently had a penchant for humble and obscure things, such as the little people to whom the owner of the tokens had belonged. Lord Sauron had intimated that he had, by threat or bribery, learnt of Gandalf’s fondness for Halflings from Saruman himself.
The Mouth of Sauron smirked vaguely when he considered Saruman and the tower of Orthanc. Once this rabble tramping ridiculously about outside the fence of Mordor was annihilated or cowed, there was Isengard to be considered. Sauron had implied that Saruman might be extracted from that place, and a loyal servant of Mordor installed there.
Orthanc would match his horse, the Mouth reflected with amused satisfaction. The tower and the horse were both dark and angular and somewhat shiny. In the horse’s case, its hide was of an odd blackish-greyish-whitish hue with an unwholesome sheen about it.
Long before the Mouth of Sauron was born–not that he remembered precisely when he’d been born, nor to whom–the animal had met its death in some northern bog, which had preserved it reasonably well. It had somehow fallen into the possession of Sauron during his stint as the Necromancer of Mirkwood. The Mouth was not precisely clear on how the horse had been made to move about again, nor on what type of awareness it had. It clearly could not see, as its eyes hadn’t been preserved; the uncanny flame that had been kindled to dwell somewhere in its sinuses shone out through both its nasal passages and its eye sockets. Its rapport with its rider was such that it trusted him to guide its course. It could certainly hear, for it responded to commands and knew its name. It did not like food or drink or any kind, but it enjoyed praise and petting as much as the next horse.
The animal was quite mild in temperament and also very fragile. It had broken each of its legs at least twice since the Mouth had known it. Really it was a rather useless horse, but for one thing: its appearance, emaciated and mummified and with a fell light behind its empty orbits, terrified virtually everyone who saw it. Terror would be of great service to them now. The Mouth adjusted his robes importantly.
Up on the rampart, over the side facing Mordor, a red banner waved to signal the western embassy’s imminent departure. The drums and horns unleashed a magnificent volley of sound. The Mouth of Sauron patted his steed’s bony neck, threw open the small door in the center of the Morannon, and emerged confidently to meet them.
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2012-03-15 05:46 pm (UTC)I also like the details about the Morannon squishing anyone who gets in its way. It would, wouldn't it? I also like the voice you've come with for the Mouth--here, he's not Sheer White-Hot Evil, like Sauron himself, maybe. Rather, he's amusedly malicious, and notes a lot of small details, like how Orthanc "matches" his horse. Another great look at the "baddies."
no subject
Date: 2012-03-15 09:27 pm (UTC)I also like the details about the Morannon squishing anyone who gets in its way.
It's mundane details like this that make a story realistic. XD
no subject
Date: 2012-03-15 05:50 pm (UTC)I loved this. The fact that the Mouth would hold onto something that was actually useless for two reasons - the effect and the Giver, is luscious.
- Erulisse (one L)
no subject
Date: 2012-03-15 09:29 pm (UTC)(Indeed, who's a mere Mouth to look a gift horse in the teeth, especially one from the Lord of Gifts himself..)
no subject
Date: 2012-03-15 11:49 pm (UTC)Hee! The Mouth has a soft spot for the creature.
no subject
Date: 2012-03-16 12:09 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-16 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-17 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-16 10:17 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-17 04:22 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-16 11:57 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2012-03-17 04:21 pm (UTC)