Date: June 6th, 1222 S.A.
My Mood Is: determined
Things are moving along very well on Project Humongous Tower. A great deal of the project to-date has had to do with infrastructure — recruiting and kidnapping Orcs and Men as laborers; building towns and cities to house them; creating farms and granaries to feed them, and aqueducts to provide water; laying roads to move goods and men; and digging quarries, hundreds and hundreds of quarries.
Now you’re probably asking, Annatar, why don’t wave your hand and will the tower in into existence? You’re Lord of the Earth, Rightful Chief of the Maiar, and Master of the Flame Imperishable. Just do your magical hoodoo and forget all this mundane crap.
Well, yes. Yes, I could do that. Easily. But there are issues.
First, if I cast a spell of that magnitude (I figure it’s a 50th Level Bigby’s Godlike Fortress), it’s like writing “Sauron Is Here” in mile-high letters above Mordor for anyone with the magical chops to read it — Galadriel, Gil-Galad, and the Valar waaaay over in Aman. And I am not ready for any of those characters to know my true identity or what I am up to.
Second, the Valar might interpret it as a hostile act, or otherwise get their panties knotted up. I’m not ready for that either.
And third, I will have to tie up a great deal of my personal power in the tower before it’s done. You can’t build a quarter-mile-high Black Spiky Tower of Unimaginable Evil and expect it to keep standing on pure engineering principles. It takes mana, and lots of it. This is going to be one hell of an enchantment; and without any other Maiar to back me up, I’ll have to provide all the mojo myself.
Now here’s the thing — and proof, by the way, that Sauron Gorthaur is smarter than Aulë, Manwë TDP, Melkor and even Eru, all put together. I need to pour a bunch of my personal power into the tower. Yet I want to keep that power, and use it for other things. Impossible, right? Having your lembas and eating it too?
Wrong. I have an idea. Let’s say I instill a good part of my fëa into some kind of magical talisman, and use that talisman to build the foundations of the tower. Then I keep the talisman with me, with my hröa, at all times. I can use the magical power wherever I go, despite the fact that it’s also holding up the tower. The power is not in the tower, nor even in me, but in the talisman. Get it?
You don’t. Well, I am the smartest entity remaining in Arda. I am doomed to never be fully understood. It is my curse.
The question is, what kind of talisman should it be? I’ll consult with Celebrimbor. He’s certainly the brightest of these confounded Elves. What a bunch of dim bulbs, sitting around eating and singing and enjoying themselves, when they could be taking over the world. The waste of potential is heartbreaking.
By the way, I discovered something alarming about a century ago. Remember when I mentioned a group of rebel Men who served the Valar, the so-called Edain? Pale, sickly-looking specimens with yellow hair who followed the Noldor around like whipped dogs? They were granted the tremendous “gift” of living on a remote island in the Belegaer, cut off from the rest of humanity and from their Elven buddies.
Well, they’re back. A bunch of these “Númenóreans” have landed and set up outposts on the shores of Middle-earth, mostly around Umbar, bringing Valinorean corn and wine with which to ply the simple Men of the coasts. They’ve even infected my beloved Haradwaith with tales of the “Noble Valar” and the “evil Sauron.”
I’ll be putting a stop to this right quick.
Sigh. I have so many things to deal with at once — the Elves, the Númenóreans, the Easterlings, the Southrons, Mordor, Celebrimbor, my magical studies. It’s SO HARD being the good guy.