LOTR: The Crown and Eye Inn

It’s a signature dish!" The Dark Lord rasped. “The orcs want meat on the menu!”

“By my right as Gondor’s King,” Aragon stood imperious, slapping his wash rag on the counter. “We will not serve flayed hobbit in this establishment!”

“Oh, I see.” Sauron crossed his arms. “So the only good business is Free Folk business.”

“They never tip anyway,” Aragon muttered.

Sauron gasped and turned away. “Bigot.”

“Oh don’t be like that.”

“What do you care about a spawn of Melkor?” The Dark Lord pouted. “Oh, this isn’t working. I should throw myself into Orodruin and be done with it.”

Aragon walked up from behind and gently wrapped his arms around Sauron’s waist. “Hush now, my little fire eye.”

“Oh, by Eru Ilúvatar.” The Dark Lord nestled his spiked helmet on Aragon’s cascading, sable locks. “If you weren’t so handsome, I’d hit you.” Ω