Archive for the ‘01 Silmarillion: Ainulindalë’ Category

#66: It’s a Fixer-Upper, But I Think I’ll Take It

Jun
11

Date: January 1, 701 S.A.
My Mood Is: ecstatic

Happy New Year and New Century!

The Men of Middle Earth count the current “Second Age” calendar from the Sinking of Beleriand by the faithless and lunatic Valar. Most Men never saw nor heard of Beleriand of course, but they did notice the massive earthquakes and weather disruptions when their entire continent shifted 300 feet to the left. And by Second Age, they mean the era after the glorious First Age, when Melkor was rightful Lord of the Earth.

Some idiot Men wanted to celebrate the end of the century in 699, but I set them straight. It’s called math, people!

Anyway. I’m no longer in Harad, but let me tell you about it before I get to the big news. After I spent some time lording it over the Easterlings, I left them with my hand-picked priesthood in charge, and very specific instructions to keep building armies and preparing fortifications. This is for their own protection – you never know when some crazy Elven exiles from Valinor will show up demanding shiny rocks and killing everyone whose skin doesn’t have an albedo over 70%.

I traveled south to the Haradwaith, a dusty desert land ruled by the hearty Haradrim. Let me tell you, these people can build a freakin’ pyramid. They were harder to bring around to my way of thinking than the Easterlings, being prideful and devoted to the worship of Námo in various mythological guises. Killing the Haradrim indiscriminately didn’t do anything to gain their loyalty, as they all thought they were going to a blissful eternity in the Halls of Mandos. Yeah, right – as if the Valar would condescend to let the Younger Children of Ilúvatar set foot in Aman, much less hang out in the “blissful” little slice of Hell that is the Elven afterlife.

In the end it was money that brought them around. I taught them how to mine for gold, which they had never seen before; and then how to trade with the Easterlings for jewels, which were also a novelty. Now the Haradrim adorn their graves with the riches of the East and dedicate them to me, which is nice.

But I had been gone from Eriador for a long time; and I missed the forest, believe it or not, and Young Man Willow. Plus, I did not want to leave the Elves out of my plans for too long — I still needed a plan to deal with them. So, leaving my proxies behind as sheiks, I set out to return to Eriador.

My Haradrim friends warned me to avoid something they called the “Fenced Land,” a vast plain surrounded by mountains that sat smack in the middle of my way home. Intrigued, I decided to check it out.

Holy Crapping Eru. Friends, I am HOME.

I mean, forget Tol Sirion, that was a freaking marsh. Angband? Nice, and pretty impressive for its era, but in the end it failed, didn’t it? Utumno? Yeah, that was just a big hole in the ground.

This place, this “Fenced Land” — well first of all it’s not a “plain,” it’s a whole country. It’s roughly square, about 300 miles by 200 miles; and there are high, tall mountains on three sides, North, South and West — all the directions the Valar might attack from.

Much of the plain itself is covered with various kinds of unpleasantness — forests, glades, glens, brooks, reflecting pools, meadows, blah blah blah, all stuff I can get rid of. But there’s water, which I now understand is important if you need servants (remind me to tell you about that little disaster back when we first set up in Angband — hundreds of Orcs dead of dehydration, and we had no idea what was going on). In fact there’s a big inland sea in the South.

But best of all, and here’s the kicker — in the northwest of the land, there’s a volcano. A big ‘ol beautiful active subduction stratovolcano, just like Pappy Sauron used to make, right where the Belegaer Plate slams into the Endorian Plate, forming the Ephel Dúath. It’s magnificent.

I have no recollection of the making of any of this. It may have been formed by the collapse of the Two Lamps at the end of the Second War. Who knows? But if I had sat down and designed my own country to rule over, a country that could also serve as a fortress, I could not have done a better job.

This is exactly the stroke of good fortune I’ve been waiting for. I’m going to call it Mordor, the “Black Land,” because of all the lovely volcanic obsidian.

I forgot to mention there are some Orcs already living here, refugees from Beleriand who fled before the War of Wrath, an act of faithlessness for which they will have to pay with sincere apologies, community service, and prolonged beatings. Also there are some Men here, the descendants of Edain who refused to fight with the Noldor. That’s good because it means I don’t have to feed the Orcs.

My plan is beginning to come together. First it’s time to return West, see what the Elves have been up to in my absence, and check if they’re more receptive to the overtures of Annatar, Lord of Gifts. Then we’ll see.

Mordor is SO COOL!

#22: War — Not As Much Fun As It Sounded

Sep
18

Date: Before the Sun and Moon
My Mood Is: exhausted

I was going to wait until the end of the battle to blog again. But this damned fight has been going on for so long, I’m not sure it well ever end.

How long have we been fighting the Valar? Who knows? No one has yet invented a way to measure time. There are no “Spirits of Time,” which if you ask me is a serious oversight on Eru’s part. One of many. The point is I don’t know. Eons, at least.

It all started so well. We carefully watched the Valar, and when they were at their least watchful, Melkor deemed it time to strike. He led us up and out of the pits, and we roared across the face of the Disc of the World, Melkor in front. In his rage he grew until his crown reached the clouds and his feet crushed the earth, and his breath was ice and his eyes fire.

Behind him came the Hosts of Fire and Ice and Darkness and Death. Or as we like to call ourselves, The Guys.

We took those ghey-ass Valar and their sniveling Maiar toadies completely by surprise. They were having some kind of party, I don’t know, celebrating leaves or something, when a great cloud of foul smoke and searing flame spread across the horizon, and we charged down upon them, crushing every living thing in our path. In moments we were upon them, crushing, burning and skewering everything with pointy ears.

Now the Valar were caught unawares, but not completely unprepared. They had armor — not solid and black like ours, but thin and shiny. And they had weapons — not like our heavy iron killing implements, designed to puncture and crush, but lithe little slivers of glossy metal called “swords,” which look flimsy but work surprisingly well.

And of course they had magic. When Melkor called down a rain of fire, that weasel Ulmo summoned forth a rain of cool clean water. When Melkor spewed forth a black miasma of creeping death, Yavanna raised her hands and met it with a spreading wall of bright green growth. When Melkor threw down a mountain to crush our foes, that ass-munch Aulë just raised up another one. I can’t believe I used to take orders from that guy.

The unfair part, of course, is that individually, Melkor could take all thirteen of the Valar. Not one could face him alone. All together, they are barely his match.

While Melkor battled the renegade Valar, I led the Hosts against the Army of the Maiar. I gotta tell ya, our guys may look scary — certainly the Balrogs cause a lot of Maiar trousers to get soiled — but it’s nothing compared to me. When I come tearing over a ravine in the form of a humongous werewolf, slavering teeth spraying acidic drool in my path, my eyes burning with the fires of Perdition, well — let’s just say people run.

In fact, for a while I had trouble finding anyone to fight! I just ran around routing any groups of Maiar I came across, and barked (heh – literally) orders to those trolls and monsters too stupid or too scared to know what to do.

I did have this weird encounter. I was chewing on some Maiar I caught hiding under an upturned continental plate, when I was attacked from behind by a little Maia with a sword. I spat out my snack and spun about, cuffing my enemy with a massive paw. Then I stepped on his little chest and pinned him to the cooling magma.

I recognized him — Olórin, an air spirit, one of those most vocal in supporting the prickless dick Manwë in his cowardly coup against Melkor.

I slobbered all over him while I decided how best to dispatch him. I had already injured a number of Maiar so thoroughly that they were reduced to weakened wisps, unable to take shape again within the World. It’s the closest to death we can get. And let me tell you, it’s never gonna happen to me.

Anyway, while I was deciding whether to bit his head off, or just claw him to pieces, Olórin spoke to me. Which was weird, considering how I was killing him. He spoke very calmly, like we were having a nice discussion over tea.

“Sauron, Lord of Craft,” spoke he, “release me. Turn aside from the path to Darkness, and return with me to the Light. Beg the pardon of Manwë, and all will be forgiven. Join us in our great work, for your skill is sorely missed.”

Now I have to admit that for a moment there, I was moved by his words, wise and gentle as they were. Perhaps Melkor had indeed led us astray. Perhaps the plans of Eru were best, and I would be wise to submit to His will.

BWA HA HA HA HA! I am so just kidding! I didn’t think any of those things. As if. It’s what that little puke Olórin expected me to think. What a moron.

I laughed so hard, Olórin was able to wriggle free and run off. Who cares? He’s too weak to ever hurt me. Let him go cower under a rock somewhere.

Can you imagine? Me apologize to the Dickless Prick? He’s the traitor and thief, not me. All I’ve ever done is what was right. I have nothing to apologize for.

I haven’t seen Huan, I think he’s avoiding me. Good for him. I did catch a glimpse of Melian, battling an enormous troll. I avoided her. I hope she gets killed.

Okay, I don’t. But I hope she gets hurt really, really badly.

Well, the battle is still going on, and I gotta go. I’m going to create a diversion while a platoon of Watchers in the Water sneak up from behind out of a poison mire.

#21: We Gird For War!

Sep
17

Date: Before the Sun and Moon
My Mood Is: fierce

It is the eve of battle. This is pretty major — there’s never been violence in the universe before. Good thing all the spirits of Chaos, Misery, Pain and Death are on our side.

The first thing we had to do was choose material forms. It would be pretty hard for us to kick Manwë’s filthy, stinking ass if we’re nothing but incorporeal metaphysical archetypes that anthropomorphize universal qualities. Nope, we have to have bodies.

Some of the manifestations our side picked are way cool. (I mentioned last time that the stupid Valar and their fuckwad followers all chose to dress as Elves.) The balrogs, for instance, have chosen the form of giant fire monsters bearing cruel flaming whips. Niiiiice. They wanted to have wings, but Melkor forbade it. Balrogs can’t fly, so giving them wings wouldn’t make such sense. Gothmog’s happy anyway, because the fire and smoke pour off their bodies into “wings of flame.”

Some of the lesser spirits have taken the form of giant vampires, or giant trolls, or giant serpents, or giant insects. Ungoliant, that weirdo, chose the form of a massive spider spinning webs of darkness. She stinks, it’s disgusting.

Melkor devised a new form for Glaurung, Smaug, and some of the other fire spirits. He won’t say what it is, and apparently it’s not ready yet. So those guys get to sit the battle out.

Melkor chose for himself a humanoid form similar to the Valar, but fifty feet tall, covered in spiked iron armor, and wearing a heavy metal helmet with two holes for his flaming eyes. His iron crown sits atop the helmet. He wields a black spear tipped with a tremendous blade that he forged himself in the hottest flames of the deepest pits. Very imposing, and very appropriate for the Lord of the Earth.

That just left me, and I had to think for a long time. I mean, we can change form any time we want — but the very first form we take kind of sets a precedent. I wanted fierce and frightening, yet fast and cunning. Oh, and I wanted teeth. Teeth are the best — sharpened protrusions of living bone that just stick out of the body, ready to rend other creatures to pieces. Believe me, teeth came out of the Music of Melkor, not Eru’s pansy-ass song that gave us posies and kittens and feminine protection products.

So I thought back on my time with Melian. She was always going on about how this tree was going to be so fascinating and that animal was going to be so pretty. All I cared about was, would the wood burn brightly and the meat taste good? But my ears pricked up when she complained about carnivores. She didn’t like the idea that some animals ate other animals. Sounded great to me.

That’s why I have chosen, as my material form, a gigantic, bloodthirsty, slavering wolf.

As a giant werewolf I’m the fastest, deadliest thing on the planet. Heck, I could give Melkor himself a go if I had the mind to. The guy can hardly move with all that armor, and dragging around his colossal spear. Good thing for him I’m loyal.

Now that we’re substantiated, we’re ready for our secret attack. We’ve been planning it for months. Whatever a “month” is.

The pits of boiling lava are ready, as well as the clouds of fumes, rock-spewing volcanoes, and hailstorms of obsidian shards. Melkor’s got the spirits all pumped up for the big day.

Tomorrow, we kill the Valar. And all the Maiar who won’t beg for mercy, and accept the status of chattel.

Even Huan. Even Melian.

#20: The Valar Are A Bunch Of Meat Monkeys

Jun
12

Date: Before the Sun and Moon
My Mood Is: amused

To summarize: Melkor and I got in trouble for making better music than Eru, the so-called “One.” (I have “one” asshole, that doesn’t make it special.) So Eru created a world out of our song, and let us go down to live in it. But He also sent along a bunch of useless Ainur, the so-called “Valar,” who’ve done nothing but get in our way. Now their leader Manwë , a.k.a. The Dickless Prick, has driven Melkor and me into the far north of Arda, and set about ruining everything we’ve accomplished.

The time is coming soon when Melkor will gather all the loyal fire and darkness spirits, and we will attack, driving the filthy Valar from this world. Let them sit in the Outer Dark, cold and alone. Especially Melian, that whore.

Melkor has tasked me with keeping an eye on the accursed Valar. He gives me all the important jobs because honestly, who else is he going to rely on? Ungoliant? She ran off soon after we redeployed to the north, and hasn’t been seen since. Glaurung? He’s not too bright, and anyway, Melkor has some special project for him. Gothmog? He sits in the lava pits, playing with his whips. Cripes, why did we bring any of these losers along with us?

So anyway, I’ve been snooping around invisibly, watching the Valar and Maiar as they foul up everything in Arda — “oceans” and “clouds” and “forests” and all that crap.

But here’s the most astonishing thing. And I’m not kidding — I couldn’t have made this up. The Valar and Maiar have clothed themselves in flesh, and taken the form of… primates. That’s right, Eru-damned monkeys! They’re walking around like two-legged meat sausages, eating and drinking an excreting and sweating.

It’s ridiculous! We’re frikkin’ gods, fer crissakes! Apparently, the accursed “Children of Ilúvatar” are going to be primates. Seriously! So Manwë and his brown-nosers have decided to dress up like “Elves,” and prance around in silly skin costumes. I gotta tell ya, I reported this to Melkor, and he was so surprised his iron crown fell off! We had a good, really long laugh about it.

It wasn’t so funny, though, ’cause when I was sneaking around, I saw Melian. Her Elven form is particularly… shapely, I must say. I mean, looking at her, I could see what all the fuss is about.

Stupid bitch.

Anyway, the rest of us are going to have to consider adopting fleshly forms, just to deny the Valar any advantage. One more thing to worry about.

But if anyone thinks I’m gonna start using a toilet, they have another thing coming.

#19: I’m Not Too Fond Of The New Digs

Apr
11

Date: Before the Sun and Moon
My Mood Is: unapologetic

I would apologize for not posting in so long, but I’m not really in the mood to apologize for anything.

When the Dickless Prick and his little friends rose up against Melkor, I was all for pounding their asses right then and there. Melkor and I even argued about it. I pointed out that, since Arda was still all fiery and lava-ey, we could use the situation to our advantage. Rally the fire spirits and attack. Use Arda Itself as a weapon. Hurl all the forces of Fire and Heat against the Valar, and destroy them.

But Melkor was afraid that we would fail. He said that all of our power was tied up in the Creation — that by being the principal architects of Arda, we had placed too much of ourselves into the World. The Earth, Wind and Water spirits, on the other hand, had yet to spend their powers on Creation, and so still retained all their energy. He bid us to wait, until our enemies had used up all their fëar on Creation. Then we would attack.

So we have bided our time. And Melkor was right about one thing — the stupid-ass Valar have been happy to splooge their so-called “beauty” all over our ordered and efficient world.

Let me tell you what Arda looked like when Melkor and I were done with it — beautiful vales of igneous rock, filled with magnificent rivers of flowing lava. Volcanoes that sent golden sprays of molten rock high into the air, and filled the spaces above the Disc of the World with lovely flammable gases. It was as fantastic as it sounds.

Well, from our stronghold in the North, we’ve watched the so-called Valar destroy everything we worked for. The igneous vales are now covered in noxious soil, and the soil itself is infested with grasses that cover all like a mold. I have nothing against trees — the fires have to have something to burn — but now there are trees everywhere, blanketing the land in monochromatic green. I have nothing against water, either — the fires need something to boil — but you will not believe me when I tell you how much water they have used to drown the World. No less than seven tenths of the Disc’s surface is now hidden beneath foul-smelling, salty water! I think it’s just their attempt to put out our fires!

Fortunately, our fires burn deep underground, and even the seas of water can not extinguish them. You know why not? Workmanship.

Soon, the Valar will have expended all their energy on burying the World underneath a thin scum of imperfectible life. Then, their resources drained, we will attack.

I mentioned our “stronghold.” Ever since we redeployed to the North (not “fled” — redeployed), we have labored on constructing a great military base from which to launch our assault upon the Valar traitors. Basically, it’s a really deep pit surrounded by giant mountains. I don’t like it. Melkor sits at the bottom of the pit, brooding, while I have to direct all the spirits in its construction. I’m trying to make it something more interesting than a big hole– but since this is the first actual building in the history of Creation, I’m forced to make things up as I go along.

For instance, I’m still trying to figure out how people will get in and out of the fortress. If I make a hole in the mountain range, our enemies can get in. If I don’t, we can’t get out. One of the spirits of craft suggested that I put part of the wall on a hinge, so it can be pulled open and shut. That seems like a good idea. But what should we call it? I’ll have to ask the spirit — his name is Doër.

#18: I Am Going To Kill Manwë, I Swear It

Jan
20

Date: Before the Sun and Moon
My Mood Is: vengeful

Well, everything has gone to shit, and there’s no one to blame but that little prick Manwë. That dickless little suckup has ruined everything!

So Melkor and I managed to get the Disc of Arda built, with some help from that moron Aulë, yes, but mostly it was us and the Fire Spirits.

Then it was time to order the rest of creation; the airs and the flora and the fauna and all that. Melkor, the Greatest of the Valar, called everybody together to manage this whole affair, because we can’t have Ainur running around just putting anything anywhere, “poof” there’s a tree, “poof” there’s a cloud.

There has to be order. Purpose. So Melkor stepped in to take charge.

Well, that’s when Manwë gets his thong in a knot. He claims — claims — that he wants all the Valar and Valier to share equally in the shaping of what he insists on calling “the habitation of the Children of Ilúvatar.” As if they’re why we’re doing all this. Please.

But what Manwë really wants is to be some sort of king of the Valar, denying Melkor his rightful title. You just watch and see — I guarantee you mister “we’re all equal” will be ordering everyone around within a week.

He says to Melkor, “This kingdom thou shalt not take for thine own, wrongfully, for many others have laboured here no less than thou.” Hypocrite. And yeah, I’d say many others labored here less than us.

Well, Melkor got pissed, and who can blame him? He declared himself, rightly, Eru’s representative in Arda, and claimed Arda as his kingdom. I immediately recognized his lordship, as did all our usual friends. (Hmn. I noticed that Ungoliant was suspiciously absent. Bitch.)

Well, it was all downhill from there. All the other Valar and Valier immediately sided with Manwë, which convinces me this was some kind of pre-planned coup against Melkor. Even Huan, my so-called “best friend,” sided with the insurgents.

But the very WORST part, the unbearable part, is that Melian sided with them too. Instead of taking my side, the side of the Maia she supposedly loved, she slunk off to be with the Vala Irmo. Oh, she tried to convince me to follow Manwë — some bullshit about peace and love and fraternity. Stupid bitch.

I will never forgive her for betraying me. And if she won’t be with me, she won’t be with anyone — you just watch.

But the architect of my misery is the Dickless Prick. I will get my revenge on Manwë, and it will be slow and painful. I will make him suffer, and then I will destroy him.

Oh, Eru, I can’t believe she left me.

#17: The Planet of Arda is Completed

Dec
20

Date: Before the Sun and Moon
My Mood Is: exhausted

Well, it’s finally done. It wasn’t too bad — what with assembling the mathematical framework, building the initial singularity, setting off universal expansion, installing inflation and setting the Cosmological Constant, burning through the first generation galaxies to assemble the heavy elements, constructing the second order galaxies, and building Arda, it only took about 13.4 billion years. Which isn’t so long, really.

A whole lotta work to build one planet, though. Sheesh. Those so-called “Children of Ilúvatar” had better be grateful.

There was some controversy about the design of the planet, initially. Melkor and I came up with some really crazy ideas, like making the planet in the shape of a ship (whatever a “ship” is). But we realized that, what with gravitation and everything, that the most logical design was a flat disc. Sure, you can’t really do anything useful with the bottom side, but the top works as a nice stable platform for all the mountains and trees and shit.

The biggest flaw is that all the water runs off the edges. Ulmo wanted to make the world bowl-shaped, but he got voted down — that egotistical prick Manwë didn’t want anything blocking the view of his precious skies. I wanted to piss them both off, so I suggested a hollow sphere with the sky and water on the outside. LOL, you should have seen their faces.

Anyway, Melkor and I devoted ourselves to building the disk. We wanted to make sure the Fire Spirits, our close allies, had their own realm in Arda. So secretly, without consulting the others, we hollowed out the disk and built a realm of flame and lava inside the planet. Niiiiiice. Nothing they can do about it now.

It’s too bad all the beautiful flame is hidden under the earth, though. I’m thinking of poking a nice deep hole, to let the magma out onto the surface. Can you imagine it? A colossal mountain of cooled magma, with plumes of lava and smoke pouring out from the top! Sweeeet!

I might even be able to use its power for some magical experiments I’ve been thinking about.

#16: I Am SO Much In Love Right Now!

Nov
3

Date: Before the Sun and Moon
My Mood Is: romantic

Sorry I haven’t posted here in a while. We’ve been really busy assembling the heavy elements and installing the Higgs field. From here on, things will move a lot more quickly. We should have enough mass to construct the actual planet quite soon. Then all those Air and Water spirits can get off their asses and do some actual work.

The other reason I haven’t written is because I’m in love! Her name is Melian, and I’ve mentioned her a few times before. She is just the smartest and prettiest and cutest of all the Maiar. She’s a servant of Vána, so she’s one of the Life spirits, but I don’t hold that against her.

For once I’m glad that Melkor made me a Maia, because Melian was really impressed that I am the mightiest of our order. I don’t think she had ever noticed me before that.

I have revealed to Melkor my wish that Melian and I be made Lord and Lady of the Maiar. He doesn’t have any problem with that, per se — but I suspect Melkor is unhappy that I have a girlfriend now. He’s just been kind of weird about it.

But I don’t care. I couldn’t be happier. Even stupid old Manwë can’t piss me off any more.

I am SO glad I came to Arda. Things are going to be perfect FOREVER!

#15: “Valar” and “Maiar?” I Didn’t Sign Up for That!

Sep
22

Date: Before the Sun and Moon
My Mood Is: let down

Well, we’ve gotten started on building and assembling the World of Arda. Melkor is doing most of the heavy lifting, of course, taking charge of the project and overseeing all the lesser spirits.

Most of the work has involved the spontaneous generation of matter and energy. I’m proud to say the Fire Spirits have been most helpful in this matter, and the most eager to bend to the wisdom of Melkor. I’ve been spending a lot of time corralling the useless Earth, Air and Water Spirits. These morons are all over the map, and Creation would be nothing but a muddy pile if someone didn’t whip these imbeciles into shape.

I saw Melian today. She looked great. I wanted to say hello, but I was too nervous.

Anyway. Of course, we got trouble right away from the Manwë/Ulmo contingent. Neither of these guys had any clout back in the Timeless Halls — but come to Arda, and all of a sudden they think they’re gods or something. Melkor was second only to Eru back in the Halls; that means he’s second to NO ONE in Arda.

I suspect this is something Manwë and Ulmo will have to be taught. Eventually.

To shut up some of the noisier Ainur, Melkor came up with a plan, and I really don’t like it. Fifteen of the Ainur, eight male and seven female, are to be anointed “Valar,” or Greater Spirits. The rest will be “Maiar,” or Lesser Spirits.

I’m to be a Maia. SAURON DOES NOT APPROVE.

Melkor spent a long time calming me down, and explaining this to me. He says he needs me to work directly under him; that as Second-in-Command to the Greatest of the Valar, I will be the second most powerful, the Greatest of the Maiar.

Bullshit.

He also says he’s setting up Manwë, Ulmo, Oromë and the others. They’ll accept all this power and responsibility, and fail — then it will be clear that all power should accrue to Melkor. And me.

Now Huan is telling me he’s HAPPY to be a Maia. What a dumbass.

#14: Who the Hell is “Iarwain?”

Sep
12

Date: Before the Sun and Moon
My Mood Is: disgusted

So, like I said, Melkor, He Who Arises In Might, was the first of the Ainur to descend into Eä and take shape within Arda (followed closely by me). Arda is a small, dark space. And it should be empty.

But there was already somebody there.

As we Ainur all floated incorporeal and naked in the dark, freezing our metaphorical asses off in the zero-degree-Kelvin temperature, the sound of singing came out of the dark.

There was no air, of course, so the singing had to be metaphysical in nature. That would imply another Ainu, right?

And what singing. Even the most banal and insipid ditty that talentless hack Manwë could devise, would seem as the deep and lofty music of Melkor compared to this drivel.

“Hey dol! merry dol! ring a dong dadar!
Iar Wain, jolly wain, Iarwain Ben-adar!”

And more stupidity like that.

We were all pretty surprised at first. Melkor got into an argument with Manwë over who the singer was. Melkor kept demanding to know why someone was in Arda before us. That sniveling toady Manwë replied that it didn’t matter, it was up to Eru, and we shouldn’t worry about it.

Screw Eru. We live here in Arda now. Let Eru look after the Timeless Halls — this is OUR world, mine and Melkor’s.

And all the other Ainur too, of course.