Posts Tagged ‘Barahir’

#53: Melkor Has Completely Lost His Mind

Nov
6

Date: March 12, 464 F.A. (Years of the Sun)
My Mood Is: rankled

Melkor has completely lost his mind.

Look, I get it. He was trapped over in Aman, chained in the Halls of Mandos (real name Námo — did I ever tell you about Námo? Don’t get me started on Námo) for three ages, and was then forced to live amongst the idiotic Elves of Valinor. Just to amuse himself, he got involved in their petty political crap, and was able to get a good chunk of them to rebel against the Valar. Which would be a great accomplishment, if those same Elven rebels hadn’t come back East across the seas to get all up in my shit.

So even though I would never involve myself in petty Elven nonsense, and I would never concoct elaborate schemes to gain control over a bunch of quasi-immortal hairless monkeys or get my hands paws on their stupid jewelry, I can understand why Melkor did so. In Valinor. But now he’s back in Middle-earth. So why is he still so obsessed with the so-called Children of Ilúvatar?

How obsessed? I’ll tell you.

Melkor commanded that I set out from Tol-in-Gaurhoth with an army of werewolves, to invade Dorthonion. (The “werewolves” aren’t actually werewolves — that is, they can’t change form like I can. They’re just a bunch of the more useless lesser spirits of Entropy, Darkness and Death that I corralled and inserted into the bodies of giant wolves. I wanted to add shoulder tentacles, but Melkor shot that down. Anyway, they’re basically mega-Wargs.)

So why is Melkor sending an entire army, headed by his Chief Lieutenant, Sauron Gorthaur, Lord of Werewolves, Master of Tol-in-Gaurhoth, Duke of Angband, Designer of Eä, High Commander of the Forces of Fire and Ice and Darkness and Death, into Dorthonion? To destroy the Noldor? To invade Doriath? To do anything useful at all?

No. He’s sending an entire army into Dorthonion to kill one guy.

One. Guy.

And a Man no less, a tissue-paper version of an Elf. Some idiot named Beren, the son of that Barry the Hero guy whose limbs I ate four years ago. (He’s still on Tol-in-Gaurhoth — I use him to wipe my feet whenever I get home.)

An entire army. And me. To kill one Man. That is what I call a proper strategic deployment of personnel and matériel.

NOT.

So, Melkor has lost his mind. The question is, what can I do about it? He’s up there in Angband, sitting in the Nethermost Pit, with that iron toilet seat covered in elfy gems perched on top of his head. I moved out here to the Pass of Sirion so I wouldn’t have to deal with the Lord of the Mopers Earth.

Now, Sauron’s going to have to save the day again. I just have no idea how.

By the way, we didn’t find Beren. Got to the edge of Doriath, had to turn back. Close enough to smell Melian’s yoni. Soon, vengeance will be mine.

#52: Why Can’t People Just Leave Me Alone?

Oct
31

Date: September 1, 460 F.A. (Years of the Sun)
My Mood Is: annoyed

I am trying to get some work done around Tol-in-Gaurhoth. For one thing, it was designed and decorated by the Noldoran Elves, so everywhere you look are carvings of those stupid magic trees that Melkor did us all the favor of destroying. Trees on the walls, trees on the floors, trees on the doors. Trees on the freakin’ toilet lids.

So I’m having all these carvings scraped and clawed away; everything smoked, burned and painted black; and I have commissioned a new series of historical murals, depicting the True and Correct History of the World.

For instance, I have devised a carving showing how Melkor and I wrote the Music of the Ainur; another of Eru Ilúvatar praising us for our work, and inviting us down into Eä; one of Melkor and I creating Arda; and then one of Manwë Súlimo and the others betraying us and fleeing to Valinor.

In some of them I am larger than Melkor, but that’s only because I’m supposed to be closer to the viewer. Anyway, it’s my house.

So there I am trying to work, choosing just the right shade of crimson enamel for the blood in “The Death of Manwë the Dickless Prick at the Hands of Sauron Gorthaur, Lord of Werewolves” when Carcharoth tells me the Orcs have brought a prisoner.

I assumed this prisoner had something to do with either finding an entrance into Doriath, since this is my top priority, or finding that idiotic “hidden kingdom of the Noldor,” “Gondolfin” or whatever, since this for whatever stupid reason is Morgoth’s top priority. In fact, I asked for a couple of Urulóki to do reconnaissance by air to find this elf kingdom, but Morgoth turned me down — so it must be really important. That’s sarcasm.

Crap. I keep calling him “Morgoth.” If I do that to his face, he’s gonna kick my ass.

Anyway. This prisoner had nothing to do with Doriath or with Gondorfin. He was just some random Man called Gorlim. Works for some guy who calls himself “Barry the Hero,” which is pretty darn egotistical if you ask me. Carcharoth says this Barry is the friend of some elf “king” that Morgoth — MELKOR — wants to kill.

By this time, I didn’t care — my head hurt from trying to keep track of all these elves and mortals and their idiotic names, and I wanted to get back to my murals. But then Carcharoth reminded me that I ate this guy’s wife a few months ago. I barely remember this — I eat a lot of people — but it did give me a chance to play with this fella a bit.

So Carcharoth brought this Gorlim into my dreadful presence — clearly the Orcs, and then Carcharoth, had been pretty rough on the little guy. I was in my “colossal wolf” form, which I wear most of the time now, because it’s scary, I don’t have to wear clothes, and I can poop wherever I want.

I said “I hear now that thou wouldst barter with me.” I always do the “Ainu talk” when outsiders are around. It’s important to sound Biblical when you’re trying to impress people.

Gorlim said that if I reunited him with his wife, he’d tell me how to find Barry and all his Merry Men. I had to admit I felt sorry for this guy, that he’d fallen in love with a woman too stupid to avoid getting caught by Orcs and eaten by me. Then again, he’d been captured by Orcs and was about to be eaten by me, so I guess they were meant for each other.

“That is a small price to pay for so great a treachery,” I replied solemnly. At this point Carcharoth was trying not to crack up at my “serious voice,” which was making me start to crack up, so I had to finish quick. “So shall it surely be. Say on!”

Gorlim spilled the beans, which Carcharoth jotted down on a Post-It. Whatever that is. Then I laughed, told the guy I’d be reuniting him with his wife — BECAUSE SHE’S DEAD, BWA HA HA — and then I ate his limbs off, and told the Orcs to use him as a doorstop.

Anyway. I’m sure I’ll never hear anything about it again. I’ve come up with a great idea for a mural, depicting Morgoth’s victory over Tulkas. I’ve got to do some sketches.

Damn it!!! MELKOR!!! Melkor’s victory over Tulkas!