Posts Tagged ‘Arien (Sun)’

#65: Now THIS Is More Like It!

May
28

Date: December 12, 578 S.A.
My Mood Is: delighted

Now this is more like it!

After my dismal experience trying to ingratiate myself to the Elves of Eriador, especially the loathsome Galadriel and the hapless Gil-Galad, I decided to try my luck to the East. If you head that way, as the vampire flies, from Lindon, you cross the Ered Luin, the Hithaeglir, Cheerywood the Great, and Rhovanion. There you will find the distant land of Rhûn, with it’s inland sea that was hewn violently from the earth so long ago where Melkor gallantly defeated the cowardly Tulkas.  This is the home of the Arhûnedain, that the unlettered simpletons of Eriador refer to as “Easterlings.”

Those who dwell in the North-east on the steppes are horse-riders, who worshipped Manwë in the form of the sun. I put a stop to that right quick; after I performed a few simple magic tricks and desalinized their water supply, they declared me King of the Gods. I should turn their worship to Melkor — I’ll get to that at some point.

To their South live their close cousins and mortal enemies, tribes who dwell in crude city-states. These Men I prefer out of any I have met, because they did the coolest thing. After I wowed them by making the Moon swallow the Sun and vomit it out again (Arien and Tilion pulling one of their pointless “eclipses,” but I took credit), they built me a pyramid! Sure, it’s nothing but a bunch of big rocks piled on top of each other, but still. I was so touched I almost shed a tear. This is exactly the kind of sycophantic, worshipful behavior I was hoping for when I devised this whole “Annatar” scheme.

I’ve been living here in the East for a while as a god-king, albeit maintaining my friendly, elf-like visage. Soon I will move on the the South, see what I can do to sway the Men down there.

But my mind always returns to the Elves of the West. Remember, Manwë and his traitors blasted a whole continent into the sea in a Pyrrhic attempt to “help” those people. If they, the Elves I mean, go complaining to the Valar about good ol’ Annatar, who knows what moronic stunt Manwë will pull? I have to get the Elves on my side, even Galadriel and her slower brother.

I need a plan. A base of operations. Maybe an army.

But what plan? How do you get a bunch of stubborn Elves to do what you command? Even when it’s for their own good?

Must think on this.

#45: Why Does Everyone Care So Much About These Idiotic Rocks?

May
15

Date: April 2nd, 1 F.A. (Years of the Sun)
My Mood Is: annoyed

Well, Melkor and I have managed to spew enough smoke, vapors, filth and obtenebration out over the northern lands that we can move about freely during the day without worrying about that bitch Arien seeing what we’re doing, or burning us with her terrible light. We do not like the Yellow Face, as the Orcs call it.

Anyway, after learning what I did from that Elf chained to that rock, I immediately sought out Melkor. It wasn’t hard — all he does is sit in the Uttermost Pits of Angband, sulking.

I made him show me these “Silmarils,” and tell me the whole story over again. He’s got them set into a great iron crown, which apparently he was taking off and hiding from me whenever I came around. What is he, 12 years old?

It seems that if Melkor hadn’t gotten his panties in a bunch about these idiotic rocks, Beleriand would not be overrun with so-called “Noldor” even as we speak. Regular Elves are pretty easy to kill (unless that bitch Melian is watching their backs), but these Noldor suckled at the Valar teat for thousands of years (or what would have been years, if there had been a Sun), and are pretty powerful. Certainly, not powerful enough to defeat us, by any stretch — but powerful enough to be very annoying.

Now we’re gonna have to dig them out of their hidey holes and regain political control of Middle Earth. As if I didn’t have enough to do. It might take centuries!

But the thing I don’t get is these Silmarils. What’s the big deal?

This Fëanor guy, who sounds like he might have been pretty cool if he’d been on our side, created these three glowing crystals out of the Light of the Idiotic Trees. Indeed, it seems that the Stinking Valar Traitors might have been able to use the Silmarils to heal the trees, if Fëanor hadn’t refused to give them up. Good for him.

But why Melkor chose to steal the Shiny Rocks of Stupidity is beyond me. In fact, if he had just left them for the Valar, they could have resuscitated the trees, and we wouldn’t have to hide from a Sun or a Moon. Good work, Melkor!

But it’s not just Melkor who is obsessed with these rocks. Apparently Fëanor’s sons are hot to get the stones back; and all the various Balrogs and Trolls and Orcs and all love to go down to the Throne Room and stare at the Iron Crown. Why? (Actually, it’s not so much of a Throne Room as a Throne Pit. Well, just a Pit.)

I’ve examined them closely, and it seems the Silmarils have some strange property that causes almost everyone, Vala, Maia or Mortal, to obsessively desire to possess them. It’s weird, because the stones aren’t evil — there’s no Evil in them whatsoever.

I’m immune, but I’m not sure why. It could be important, I’ll have to figure it out.

Wait — Carcharoth says there’s some kind of awful Elven caterwauling coming from Thangorodrim. I’d better check it out.

#43: Ow, The Light! My Eyes! Again!!!

Apr
21

Date: January 1st, 1 F.A. (Years of the Sun)
My Mood Is: excruciated

Auuuugh!

Just when you think those filthy, Elf-loving Valar traitors are out of your fur, they pull some ridiculous stunt!

Last night I was overseeing the feeding and brushing of the Orc-spawn, weeding out and gobbling down the weak ones, when Carcharoth came yelping into Angband, complaining about some horrible light in the sky. I went out to take a look.

It seems Aulë, my clueless and talent-free ex-boss, rescued some of the light from one of those idiotic trees, and used it to create a moon. Well, The Moon, because they’re never going to be able to pull this shit again. Some guy Tilion, a Maia of Oromë, was hauling this big, round white piece of junk across the sky — our sky that was so beautiful and black before Varda vomited stars all over it.

Well, Melkor and I were still debating which of us would kill Tilion and which would consume The Moon, denying the world its light forever, when the unthinkable happened.

From the East, a terrible bright burning started to rise from the horizon, which resolved into a bright, white light shifted toward the yellow. The firmament turned blue as this terrible light extinguished The Moon and the stars.

Then a burning ball of fire rose into the sky. It would have been the most beautiful thing in the world, if we had made it, all burning hydrogen and deadly radiation — but its fiery light was poisoned and diluted by the weak, golden radiance saved from the dried out husk of one of those trees.

I could feel its heat on my face even from tens of thousands of miles away. And now the whole world was baking under its merciless calefaction, and all those things that love the night and the dark and fear and teeth, like my beloved wolves, were forced to hide in the rocks and dirt.

Those assholes!

Well, Melkor wasn’t going to put up with this shit. He and I and a hundred Balrogs sped into the sky, and by the time the fiery orb had settled below the horizon in the West, we had caught up to Tilion. He and Melkor fought, while the rest of us assailed the orb — but its cold light burned, and my flesh and fur were seared, and several of the Balrogs were extinguished.

We made a strategic retreat, and Melkor sits on his throne in the Nethermost Pits even as I write, devising ways to eradicate the Moon, and the Sun, as they are calling it.

We found out that Arien steers the Sun through the sky, which has caused a big uproar here in Angband. She was one of the most powerful of the Fire Spirits back in the Timeless Halls (and one of the hottest, too — in both senses of the word).

It’s inconceivable to us that one so worthy would join with the Valar traitors, and assail us with fire, which is our element, not theirs. She’s going to have to be destroyed — unless I can turn her…

Imagine hurling the Sun right smack dab into the center of Valimar, the City of the Valar! How cool would that be?