Isengard Living arrangements

“Why! Why are you bothering me with this, again?” Narbolt looked at the floor. He was new to this job. Someone had to do it and he had drawn the short straw. It was his job to organise the living quarters of the new, very angry, breed of Orcs that the person in front of him had created. There were quite a lot of them. Ten thousand to be precise. They needed a home as did the Goblins and Orcs that had moved in as well. It was Narbolt’s job. He wasn’t happy about it.

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A barrack block had been built and not all of the Orcs were happy either. Some had moaned about being on top, some and moaned about being on the bottom all of them were hungry and there were never, never enough toilets. He needed help. He needed Block Management Services like those available at Unfortunately, he didn’t have access to them what he had was his boss the Wizard Saruman.

“Sorry lord,” he said. “Sorry, sorry he says! Do you know what I’m going though? do you know what kind of pressure I have? Every five minutes that, that damn angry, marble there goes off and it’s Mr angry Eyeball giving me some new instruction or asking me some pointed question as to why Rohan hasn’t fallen yet so we can attack Gondor on two fronts!” he paused for breath. This actually impressed Narbolt a bit. He briefly wondered if Saruman would turn him into something. He’d always heard that Wizards could do magic, but he’d seen very little of it. Not even a cool firework. Narbolt often thought about leaving his fellow Orcs and Goblins, maybe strikeout elsewhere. He wouldn’t though he’d just get done in by some humans chucking rocks. It was hard being an admin Goblin. Saruman began again.

“Why are you still here?” Saruman said.

“Well, um, it’s just that, you see we’ve run out of room”, Narbolt replied.

“Room for what?” Saruman demand.

“The new Orcs. There not happy. There sat around moaning about there living accommodation”. Narbolt replied.

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“Just find them something to do! Don’t say what! Do not say what? to me. Oh great, look that’s going off again. What does he want now”? The Stone of Orthanic was glowing again.  It scared Narbolt so he ran out. As he did he crashed into some paint tins left lying about Saruman had want to do some redecorating. Narbolt picked himself and placed paint of the side. “Hang on” he thought. “I think I’ve got it.”

6 minutes later 10. 000 Orcs are running around stamping themselves with white painted hands. “Well, that’s going to keep them quiet for a while” thought Narbolt contently.