Posts Tagged ‘Aulë Mahal’

#67: Meet My New Best Friend, Celebrimbor

Jun
23

Date: July 12th, 701 S.A.
My Mood Is: full of camaraderie

I don’t usually make friends, because it always turns out badly. My first friend ever, back in the Timeless Halls of Eru Ilúvatar, was Huan, that total idiot who betrayed me to the Valar traitors.

Then there was Melkor, whose was like a best friend, big brother, and boss all rolled into one. I have a lot to be grateful to Melkor for — too bad he was also a total idiot, and got his stupid ass exiled to the Outer Dark.

There was Melian, and the less said about Melian, the better.

And finally I had Carcharoth, who was to me what I was to Melkor — friend, brother, aide-de-camp. That idiot got a Silmaril ulcer, and then his ass killed by Huan, thereby proving what I always suspected; you can’t rely on anyone.

So Annatar, Lord of Gifts hasn’t had any friends to-date, unless you count Young Man Willow, which is pretty silly, because he’s a tree. A sentient, malevolent tree, but still.

All that has changed. About six months ago I was on my way back home through Eriador, wondering what I was going to do to get Gil-Galad and Galadriel around to my way of thinking, when I noticed an Elven settlement in Eregion, a woody area in the shadow of the Misty Mountains, just West of the Dwarven city of Hadhodrond. (I was going to say “great Dwarven city of Hadhodrond,” but if you’ve ever seen a Dwarven city, you’ll know the work is highly overrated. Big rooms full of unnecessary columns? Bottomless pits that serve no purpose, right in the middle of a room? Endless stairs leading nowhere? Pointless. But I digress.)

Now, Gil-Galad and Galadriel never mentioned an Elven city in Eregion. I knew it was Elven, rather than Mannish, because it was made of white stone, beautifully designed (for non-Maiar), and didn’t stink of sewage. So I stopped by.

The city is called Ost-in-Edhil, the “Fortress of the Elves,” which is laughably pretentious, considering the Elven predilection for exposed rooms, low railings, and a complete lack of military preparedness. It’s the home of something called the Gwaith-i-Mírdain or Guild of the Smiths, a society of rather clever Elves dedicated to learning the secrets of Aulë, the Retard God of Smithcraft.

Their leader is named Celebrimbor, and he is the only living grandson of Fëanor, the batcrap crazy Elf who created the Silmarils and got stomped to death by Gothmog. Celebrimbor has inherited his grandfather’s talent, intelligence, and most importantly, his willfulness. When Beleriand was destroyed and the Valar offered all the remaining Noldor the chance to return to Valinor, Celebrimbor told them where to stick their offer.

Now one of the reasons I failed to make a positive impression on the other Noldoran exiles was my lack of a decent backstory for Annatar. Galadriel especially was suspicious, although I don’t think she ever suspected my true identity. So I had been thinking about what to say, and what I came up with was perfect for Celebrimbor and his Guild.

What’s more, it’s pretty much true — Celebrimbor is smarter than Gil-Galad and Galadriel put together and multiplied by ten, so he might detect a lie. I said I was a Wizard (well I am pretty wizard) from the Uttermost West (I have in fact visited there), a Maia of Aulë (I worked under him in the Timeless Halls) sent to aid the Elves and Men of Middle-earth (sent by myself, but I didn’t mention that).

And it worked! They totally bought it. At once they offered me gold, mithril and jewels if I would teach them the secrets of Aulë. I didn’t mention that the so-called “secrets of Aulë” are in fact the secrets of Sauron, and that they were learning from the true source. But I can bide my time, until all the truth is revealed.

Celebrimbor is an exceptionally cool guy. He hangs on my every word, and he’s an excellent student. So far I have showed him how to make a proper blast furnace, mithril filigree, tempered steel blades, and a wankel rotary engine.

We have plans to work on a bunch of projects together, most of them metalworking, but also some engineering, architecture, alchemy and even calligraphy. It is great to find someone I can finally have intelligent conversation with. I mean, Carcharoth was loyal, but the repartee at dinner in Tol-in-Gaurhoth was hardly Algonquin Round Table-quality, whatever that is.

This is so great. Soon I’ll have a whole city of brilliant, specially-trained Elves under my control. Then we’ll see what Gil-Galad and Galadriel have to say to that!

#62: Presenting Annatar, Lord of Gifts!

Apr
28

Date: April 28, 501 S.A.
My Mood Is: buoyant

Well, it’s been a few centuries, but I think I have things all worked out. I’ve been living a simple life in the forests of Western Eriador, which is very pleasant as long as I can avoid Iarwain Ben-adar, that annoying little fuckstain.

Sorry, sorry. The “new me” doesn’t use language like that. And Iarwain is free to pursue his lifestyle of singing, scampering, lily-collecting, and making my fucking skin crawl with his insipid banality.

Sorry.

Anyway — working things out. As it stands, most of the Men left in Middle-earth live in the East beyond Rhovanion and south below the Ephel Dúath, although there are a scattering of them here in Eriador. There are a couple of Dwarf cities, notably the Dwarrowdelf in the Misty Mountains and Belegost in the Blue Mountains (the latter is in ruins, but a large number of Dwarves live in the region).

And then there are the Elves. There are still lots of those, in settlements all throughout the big honkin’ forest that covers most of the sub-continent. The major Elf nations are: a Nandorin kingdom at Amon Lanc; another Nandorin kingdom at Lórinand; Edhellond, a Sindarin sea-haven way down in the Belfalas; Eregion, where a remnant of the Noldor still dwell; and finally Lindon, the Land of Seven Rivers, where the Noldorin High King rules over Elves of all tribes.

Aren’t you impressed that I have learned about all these little mortals and their nations? I keep notes on Post-Its.

So the way I see it, as the wisest and most powerful being left in Middle-earth, I have a responsibility to offer my aid to all these little kingdoms — Men, Dwarves, and Elves — and to help them run things more efficiently. You know — agricultural policy, land management, economic policy, that kind of thing. Certainly none of these Children of Ilúvatar has ever completed a formal course in Public Policy! Fortunately, I have a strong sense of Noblesse oblige.

To begin my new career as a senior political adviser, I needed a new name. I thought about this for a long time. Obviously, “Sauron Gorthaur” wouldn’t do, as that name has become associated with certain unfortunate mistakes made, in my name by subordinates, during the Melkor administration.

So that left:

a.) Tevildo, Lord of Cats: Absolutely not. This is from an embarrassing period in my past and I won’t discuss it. Anyway, it lacks gravitas.
b.) Mairon the Admirable: My original name. Eru had hardly sliced my parts off the sprues and cemented them together before he named me Mairon. By the time I hooked up with Melkor I was going by “Sauron”; but while I dated Melian she always called me Mairon.
c.) Thu the Hunter: The Elves of Dorthonion and Dungortheb used to call me that. I was hunting them, of course. Good times. Hardly appropriate now, though.
d.) Mr. Spottybottom: We used to get really, really bored during the long dull centuries in Angband, and we would make silly bets. One time I lost a bet (something about spinning hard-boiled eggs), and had to let everyone call me “Mr. Spottybottom” for a month. It’s okay — Draugluin had to go as “Lady Vaginastank” for an entire year.

Clearly I needed some new ideas. After many years of thought, and some late night brainstorming sessions with Young Man Willow, I came up with these:

a.) Aulendil, the Servant of Aulë: From a practical standpoint, this would be a great name. I taught Aulë everything he knows, and will be sharing many of the same skills with the Children of Ilúvatar. Elves love Aulë; Dwarves worship him as their creator; and Men seem to really enjoy diaereses. But unfortunately, I would have to vomit every time I said it.
b.) Artano the High Smith: Same idea as above, but with no mention of my former boss.
c.) Tom Bombadil: One day I overheard some Mannish children talking about that “wonderful ol’ Tom Bombadil who lives down by the Baranduin River,” and how “handsome” and “amazing” he was. I have no idea how the little sweethearts came up with that silly name for me, but I did briefly consider adopting it. Again, though, not enough gravitas. I am a Maia, fer crissakes.
d.) Annatar, Lord of Gifts: This name has it all. Everyone likes lords — if there were no one to tell you what to do, how would anything get done? And everyone likes gifts!

So from now on, I am Annatar, Lord of Gifts. And this is Annatar’s Blog. Soon, I will be taking off for Lindon, where I intend to present myself to the High King and allow him to take advantage of my services as a counselor.

Yes, this is going to work out perfectly!

#47: The Race of Men is a HUGE Disappointment

Jun
27

Date: December 12th, 273 F.A. (Years of the Sun)
My Mood Is: disappointed

Well, I found Men. What a letdown. Seriously, I think Eru Ilúvatar has just given up trying, which is as good a reason as any to replace Him as High Lord and Master of All Creation, I think.

Carcharoth located the Men out East in Eriador, although they are apparently largely migrating West. What is the deal with the so-called Children of Ilúvatar and going West? If Eru wanted all His monkey-people to live in the West, why didn’t He create them there?

Listen, when Melkor and I created this crap planet (yes, it was us — the other Ainur just sat around and let us do all the work), everything was in perfect order. Geometrically perfect and symmetrical continents, perfectly conical mountains — everything in its logical place. Now look at what a mess Arda is. I wouldn’t trust these so-called Valar to run a Ford dealership, much less a physical universe.

Whatever a “Ford dealership” is.

And speaking of creating… look. So Eru decided to create a mortal race, the Elves, that looks like hairless albino apes. Fine, He likes primates. Then that talent-free dumbass Aulë made the Dwarves, which are just fat stunted Elves. Well sure, Aulë is as creative as the average colon, and produces the same product. No wonder his race is just a bad copy of Eru’s.

But now we see Men, and guess what? If an Elf and a Dwarf had a kid (yuck), you’d have a Man. They’re just a stockier, shorter Elf, or a taller, thinner Dwarf. Great creativity there, Eru. Good work. Whadd’ya do, design Men between kippers at breakfast?

Plus, they have these bizarre, rounded ears. And they smell like poo all the time.

I’m sorry, but there are so many other, better body designs than upright bipedal, bilaterally symmetrical, four-limbed, endoskeletal, pentadactyl, binocular and binaural chordates. For instance, imagine if we made a mortal race out of Hallucigenia — that would kick ass. I don’t think we kept any of those guys — there are probably some fossils, somewhere, though.

Sure, primates have tool-using hands, two of them, which is very important when you need a slave race to dig holes and carve statues of you.  But octopodes have eight tool-using limbs, so why not make an octo-race? I don’t want to go anywhere near the water, but I’m sure I could slap together some kind of talking land-octopus. That would be way cooler than “Men.”

Speaking of tentacles, I actually designed my own race. Didn’t I tell you? I mean, it’s just some of the lesser evil Maiar incarnated into physical bodies, but still. They’re called “Wargs,” which is a very cool name I came up with after Carcharoth suggested it. Originally, I designed them as 400′ long giant black wolves with vicious red tentacles coming from their shoulders. They were kewl.

Melkor hated the design. He went on about resource allocations and production quotas — all the shit I tell him when I point out that Project Flying Fire-Breathing Monster is 12 millennia behind schedule and 800% over budget. Then he showed me his Warg redesign — they looked like some kind of big, mangy pig-dog. What the hell?

Finally, I got Melkor to agree that Wargs would be large, talking wolves, and that the Orcs would be able to use them as mounts. I’m proud of them — but the giant, tentacled Wargs were much cooler. (Tentacles are just really useful. I should grow some.)

Anyway, I’m sending some of my spies out to the Men, to tell them the truth about the Valar and to keep them properly terrified of us. You know, the usual. Maybe we can get some slaves out of it, eliminate the rest, make coats from their skins. It’s Winter, you know.

#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?

#39: OMFG, I Found the Freakin’ Men… Except Not

Jul
22

Date: Before the Sun and Moon, but after the Count of Time began
My Mood Is: sickened

Okay, I’m still just totally — what? Disgusted? Sickened? Perplexed? Infuriated? over this whole Melian situation. I mean, I get that we could never be together again — she sided with the Dickless Prick. It’s not like I’m still in love with her or anything.

But marrying an ELF???? Listen, I’m into some pretty sick shit, what with the burning and torturing and killing and all. In order to breed the Orcs, I’ve had to do some pretty nasty things to them. Lots of incest, for one thing. So it’s not like I’m one to judge.

Except I’m not going around shtupping any freaking Elves.  I can’t even imagine being attracted to one of them. I’m a freaking Maia of the freaking Ainur of the freaking Timeless Halls, for chrissakes.

Anyway, this is not what I was going to blog about today. There are other things to worry about than Melian getting her metaphorical pooter diddled by a pointy-eared ape.

Specifically, a few years ago Carcharoth was out roaming the darkened forests when he came upon yet another race of bipedal mortals. These were significantly different from the Elves, which are tall, fair and quite tasty, with really tender white meat.  The new mortals are short, squat and stringy — all nasty, foul-tasting dark meat.  Perfectly good for feeding Orcs, but no good for the rest of us.

Well, obviously I just assumed these were Men. After all, Eru Ilúvatar would never lie, right? And He said there would be two races, right? Elves and Men. And since these weren’t Elves, they had to be Men. Simple deductive reasoning.

I quickly determined these “Men” would be of no value to us, and ordered the various werewolves, vampires, trolls and giants I’ve got roaming Middle Earth to kill them on sight.

Well, I was over near Eglador, wearing a pleasing Elvish shape, just spying things out. I happened to be near Menegroth, that hole in the ground that Melian and Thingol hide in, but that was just a coincidence. I was mapping out terrain in preparation for invasion, not spying on Melian and her fucktoy.

Anyway.  I ran into a bunch of these so-called “Men,” who were on their way to see Thingol. I could have destroyed them with a wave of my hand, but I didn’t want to reveal myself to Melian, so I played nice and pretended to be a friendly Elf prince.  And that’s when I learned — these aren’t Men!

The elves call them Naugrim, and they call themselves Khazâd. But they’re just Dwarves. Stupid, stunted Dwarves. And not Men at all!

Turns out Aulë made them, long ago. I’m not surprised — they look like Aulë’s work, shoddy and ill-designed. And did Eru punish Aulë for his presumption? Of course not. Because that would have been FAIR.

So Eru LIED about there only being two mortal races. And He punished Melkor and myself for original thinking, but not Aulë. Infallible my ass!

Now I’ve got the boys on double patrols, looking for Men. And any of Aulë’s stinking Dwarves they find are to be euthanized on sight.

#27: We Won! Suck it, Valar! You Lose!

Oct
13

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

We won the Second War! Okay, maybe not a total and complete victory — Manwë and his filthy Valar slaves still live. But their forces are completely routed, and we have destroyed everything they accomplished! It’s party time!

The Valar finally figured out we had returned to Arda when the Corrupting Miasma killed off all their precious plants and animals. While they were still standing around with their dicks in their hands, we attacked.

For the second time, the Hosts of Fire and Ice and Darkness and Death came screaming out of the North, riding on waves of flame and pestilence. Black-clad Melkor led the way, with faithful Wolf-Sauron at his side. Draugluin and Carcharoth kept the Hosts in line, acting as my lieutenants.

We came down upon Almaren like an avalanche, interrupting some festival or wedding or something. The Valar had set out guards, but they assumed we were newly returned to Arda, and did not think we had been preparing all this time. They were taken almost completely unprepared.

We overthrew Almaren, and Melkor overturned the island with his hands. Many faithless and cowardly Maiar were destroyed and their souls reduced to wandering shades. That’s what they get for following the Dickless Prick.

I led the Hosts as we drove the Valar and Maiar south. They were never able to get their act together, and we kept them on the defensive. Meanwhile, Melkor snuck off — he had an important job to finish, one that would give us a decisive advantage.

After many hours of battle, whatever an “hour” is, I faced off against my old boss Aulë. When I was spying on Almaren, I discovered this idiot has been taking credit for “creating Arda.” Are you fucking kidding me? After Melkor and I put in 90% of the actual work?

So I cornered him, and mocked him. “Who art thou, craven Aulë, Lord of Mud, to claim as yours what is rightfully Melkor’s?” Wow, he sure didn’t like that “Lord of Mud” bit. He tried to smash me with his axe, but I am way too quick. I bit at him and rent his flesh, and he screamed like a girl.

Suddenly, the shadows moved. That never happened, since the Two Lamps were immobile — but I knew what to expect. Most of the Maiar and Valar battling on the plain did not notice, but Aulë and I watched as Illuin slowly fell from the sky, the great pillar Helcar twisting and collapsing beneath it.

Aulë was clearly horrified — perhaps he had a better idea of the coming cataclysm. As I said, they broke the friggin’ Laws of Physics to build the pillars Helcar and Ringil. Sure, magic always defies Physical Law, but even magic has strict rules, and the Valar broke those rules to create two towers 10,000 miles in height, each supporting a miniature sun.

When Helcar and Illuin struck the disc of Arda, well, it would have been the most beautifully spectacular piece of wanton destruction I could have imagined, if I had been witnessing it from the safety of the Outer Dark. Unfortunately, I was standing on the disc at the time.

The pieces of the pillar struck the Earth and the whole disc sounded as a drum; a wave of pulverizing force, a crest of destruction ten miles high and 100 deep, spread across the face of the world at twice the speed of sound. Then Illuin hit, and he exploded as he hit like a great egg of pure flame. I don’t know where the Valar got that light, because it wasn’t from the fire spirits — it was silver and cold and deadly, and washed out over the world like water.

But Melkor, in his wrath, was not finished. While we, Hosts and Valar and Maiar alike, fled the destruction in the North, he flew South, and assailed the pillar Ringil, which held aloft Ormal, the golden lamp. She fell, and with a second wave of decimation she let loose a tide of red fire across the South of the world.

Of course we wanted to destroy the accursed lamps, just because the Valar had crafted them. But also, we knew perpetual darkness would give us back our tactical advantage.

Now, sometime around the destruction of Ormal, Tulkas woke up. That little pig Curunír failed in the one damn thing I told him to do. Tulkas rose up above the fury of the twin holocausts that were practically unmaking the world, and called out a challenge to Melkor.

Too bad for Tulkas. As you might guess, the destruction was too much for any of us to endure, and far worse than we expected. Again, let me stress — the world is not designed to support giant, physically-impossible pillars. Leave world-building to the experts, folks — that is to say, me and Melkor. Anyway, I rallied all the surviving Hosts, and we retreated back to Utumno.

Let me say this — I designed Utumno, even the doors, which were my idea. Not only did our fortress survive the twin cataclysms, but the accursed Valar could not penetrate the walls to assail us. We sat inside, comfy cozy, congratulating ourselves and drinking ale, while the Valar and Maiar outside beat on the walls and fell victim to fiery death from the flames of Illuin.

Niiiiiice.

Seriously, this could not have gone better. We lost, I dunno, a few hundred of the lesser spirits, no one important. But I’d say we wiped out a good third of the enemy Maiar. We didn’t get any Valar, which is too bad. Next time.

I’m tired, I gotta sleep. It was a really, really good day.

#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.

#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.

#10: Eä! Let Things Not Suck So Hard From Now On!

Aug
26

Date: Before the Beginning of Time
My Mood Is: ecstatic

The day started terribly. I was already depressed; then Aulë announced his schedule for today, which involved two hours of singing Eru’s praises, followed by four hours of choir practice, an hour-long discussion of how great Eru is, then another two hours of singing.

With no lunch.

So we’re busy singing when I hear Huan mention my name. He’s saying, “Sauron? Haven’t seen him. Try over by the Outer Airs.” Well, Huan knew perfectly well I was right there. So I left my position in the choir to see what was going on. I knew Aulë would have my ass over it, but you know what? I don’t care.

Huan was talking to Melkor! Lying to him! That little prick! I was soooo pissed. Huan is really beginning to piss me off.

Melkor didn’t care though, he was just glad he found me. He said Eru had another big announcement, but one we would really like, and I had to come with him at once! Can you believe that, Melkor came to find ME! We’re definitely, totally friends now.

Well, Aulë came over to bust me for leaving the choir. But Melkor said, “Aulë, Lord of the Cthonic Spirits, you and your host must come as well. For Ilúvatar hath summoned us forth.”

Well, Aulë just grumbled, and we all went up to the Empyrean Airs, where well nigh all of the Ainur were assembling.

“I have spoken to Ilúvatar,” Melkor whispered to me, “and He hath harkened, for the Ainur have become restless. Now much we have desired shall come to pass.”

Cool!

Then Eru came upon us, and He said, “I know the desire of your minds that what ye have seen should verily be, not only in your thought, but even as ye yourselves are, and yet other.”

No shit, Sherlock.

“Therefore I say: Eä! Let these things Be!”

And suddenly the Void was filled with light! It was awesome. “Eä.” I gotta remember that trick.

Then Eru said, “And I will send forth into the Void the Flame Imperishable, and it shall be at the heart of the World, and the World shall Be; and those of you that will may go down into it. “

Yes!! We get a world, we get the Flame Imperishable, and best of all, we have a ticket out of this metaphysical hellhole of singing and praising!

I was jumping up and down, I was so excited. I think I hugged Melkor, which is kind of embarrassing.

I am ready. I want to go down into that World. NOW.

#8: Manwë Is Such a Dick

Aug
23

Date: Before the Beginning of Time
My Mood Is: dejected

So all anybody can talk about now is The World that Eru showed us. I’ll bet if we had the Flame Imperishable, we could create the World without Eru. Maybe I should go out to the Void and look for it — but if Melkor had no luck, what chance do I have?

Speaking of Melkor, I think he’s avoiding me. I haven’t spoken to him since Eru called him out after the big concert. I think he’s genuinely ashamed, and wants to regain his position as Eru’s favorite. I guess I can’t blame him — he’s been Ilúvatar’s best buddy since forever. But is this the end of our plan to get Eru to adopt our changes?

Everyone who sang with Melkor is laying pretty low right now; and Aulë, that fat fuck, is all over me like ugly on an Orc. Whatever an “Orc” is. He seems to think I embarrassed him during the concert. Now he has me working all the time, to “keep me out of trouble.”

Screw him. Screw him right in the ear.

Oh, and Manwë! Did I mention him before? Some pissant little air spirit who showed up to our meeting? He was one of the loudest singing for Melkor during the concert.

Well, now he’s all over the place, talking about how VERY SORRY he is, and how Melkor led him astray, and he’ll never defy Eru again. Dammit, he pisses me off so much!

First of all, we didn’t defy Eru. We did exactly what Eru asked: we adorned His music with our “own thoughts and devices.”

Second, Melkor did not mislead anyone. We all knew what we were doing. And you don’t see Gothmog or any of the fire spirits going around apologizing.

And now Manwë, this whiny little loser, is trying to pass himself off as so pious and so repentant. Ugh, I could kill him.

Whatever killing is.