Envoy of Mordor

"Slowly, slower. That's it!" Uanor shouted in glee, "That ramp descent speed will cause maximum sexual arousal. Very good!"

Eve, Crown Princess of Mordor, shook her head in disappointment, "The slow ramp doesn't actually make people's dicks hard." She scolded her brother, "Father says that when he is mocking people as simpletons."

"Now now, Eve, that is simply untrue." the Black Elf tsked, "I find the slow descent of our gangplank quite satisfying."

The sigh of disappointment that left the Crown Princess could inflate a beach ball, but like all things in life she chose not to rain too much on peoples' parades and instead uncorked a skin of her husband's wine and took a long drink.

Marrying him continued to prove an excellent decision, and after an extra strong reaction to the blood of Tulkas the formerly doughy winemaker grew three feet and bulked up like a brick shithouse, he now ticked off every single one of Eve's boxes emotional, spiritual, and very very physical.

Perhaps the Black Elf was right in his simpery for their father. The man delivered, even if he was nowhere near as present and available during her childhood as he was for his kids with Eltariel. Making her husband able to pin her down and blow out her cervix certainly made up for any mild neglect, that's for damn sure.

Uanor himself cut a far more imposing figure now at nine feet tall, broad shouldered and barrel chested. Clad in golden plate armor and a luxurious red cape with the skin of a some beast he slew over his shoulders and his new curved sword at his side he almost seemed the perfect envoy.

Then he threw his armored hands up and flipped two golden birds at the tense people below and shouted, "Peace between worlds!"

She reached into her hip pouch and felt the reassurance of another skin of wine. She'd need it to get through watching the First Black Elf negotiate with the peoples of Middle Earth.

The implied threat of the crossbowmen on deck halted any immediate blowback from the obscene gesture coming from her ignorant brother, and the squad of elite Uruk Captains that came behind him just solidified the effect. Hell, the obvious discomfort of the crowd just made him smile brighter.

"I am Prince Uanor of Mordor, son of King Thrag the First Father and Queen Consort Eltariel, the former Blade of Galadriel." the enormous Elf winked at the golden Elf Queen, "Thanks for sending her to Mordor by the way, best how I met your mother story ever."

"You're the bastard who keeps sending my daughter love letters!" the Prince of Dol Amroth stood up in a rage, "How do you keep training the pigeons? How do they keep getting through my defenses? Tell me!"

The Elf turned his grin onto the Prince and a manic glint flashed in his eyes, "Ah, Ivriniel, the light of my heart. Her last letter spoke of how deeply she yearns for me. Please, bring her to the event my father has sent me to invite you all too."

This time Denethor got his vengeance when he wrestled the Prince down and silenced him.

The Envoy of Mordor opened a scroll and cleared his throat.

"Greetings to the people of Middle Earth and Welcome back to the Ainur and their servants. It's ya boi, Thrag, King of Mordor. Rejoice, for you have all made it to the Fourth Age, the Brutal Age. Not all of you get the privilege of that for much longer, Manwe, Ulmo, Aule, and Orome, as I need ya god bods for my plans. Don't worry though, as I will do much cooler stuff with ya god bods than you are currently.

Can't think of what the fuck I'd make out of the rest of you, as I am partial to giant monsters of incredible physical might and weeping does not a good giant monster make. Sure I could go for some creepy shit with it, but it'd just be too edgy for my tender heart.

Anyway, I thought about just hunting you all down or letting you form up a giant army for some last stand, but then I thought, 'Nah, already sorta did that with ma bois. Gotta do something new.' and then it came to me in a flash of glorious inspiration while I took and extra satisfying shit.

What drums up the most cheap, low down, low effort drama possible?

Young masters.

And in second place is the tournament arc.

So in the maximum effort to bestow upon you as much terror as possible, I, ya boi Thrag, hereby declare in forty days and forty nights the Great Tournament of Pelennor Fields. I am there right now building the colosseum. It will be legendary.

Now I get it. You've all seen my kids and my Uruks and you know that none of you would ever make it through an elimination tournament to face me, but fear not for I, ya boi Thrag, am a generous godking, and would be very bored watching all of you die in agony against my forces, which is why I will be taking on every single champion with the courage to face me, personally.

Single combat without rest until either I am slain, or hope is.

Can't wait to see you all there."

Uanor chuckled and gave a slight nod of his head, "And thus spoke my father, King Thrag of Mordor. How fortunate you all are to receive such a personal message."

Before the pissed off people of Middle Earth could voice their outrage the Black Elf raised up his hand, "But wait, there's more!" he cried and took out a second larger scroll."

He boldly stepped up to Varda, Queen of the Stars, "My lady, the finest artist in Mordor worked tirelessly to deliver this portrait in all its splendor. A glimpse of your future should you choose not to die at the hands of my father."

With an evil giggle the Black Elf turned his back on the Valar and ascended back up the bone white gangplank with his sister and Captains.

"What manner of snake monster is this?" The Queen of the Stars stated in confusion.

"That's no snake." Uanor shouted over his shoulder in glee.

"Look beyond the pillow." grimaced Yavanna, Lady of the Earth, "That's balls."