Date: March 12th, 1700 S.A.
My Mood Is: really quite good, actually
Things must really suck for poor ol’ Melkor. There he is, chained to the outside of the sky by the stinking treasonous Valar, freezing in the uttermost cold of The Void, and all he can do is look into Arda and watch as I, his one-time lieutenant, accomplish what he never could.
Yes, I am THIS CLOSE to complete and total victory in Middle-earth. HUZZAH!
I, Sauron Gorthaur, Lord of Werewolves, the Dark Lord, Maker of the One Ring, am now the emperor of a vast demesne, from Hildórien in the Uttermost East on the shores of the East Sea, all the way through the Hither Lands west to the Ered Luin and the remnants of Beleriand; from the grinding ice of the Iron Mountains, all the way south to the balmy reaches of the furthest lands of the Southrons. All the Men of these realms worship me, and despair!
So I’ve got that going for me.
There are only two significant holes in the map, that I have yet to redden under my iron claw. There is Lindon, the so-called kingdom of Ereinion Gil-Galad, who presents himself as High King of the Noldor. And there is a new player, something called Imladris, which I take to be a kind of sylvan fort or something hidden in the western glens of the Misty Mountains. “Imladris” is elfy-talk for “hole in the ground,” so I assume it’s some kind of armed ditch. Elrond Halfelven commands it, so I’m not particularly worried. “Elrond Half-a-brain,” that’s what I call him.
My spies also tell me of an elf-lord called Amdír, who is stirring up trouble against me amongst the Elves of Lórinand east of the Mountains. He will have to be dealt with, when Gil-Galad, Galadriel and Elrond are all in their graves.
The weather is clearing up, and once all the Orcs who survived the winter get thoroughly defrosted, it will be the end of both Lindon and Imladris. Then Middle-earth shall be mine! All mine!
And dare I then think of the next step? To sail against Aman and destroy the accursed Valar? Too soon, Sauron, too soon. Don’t get ahead of yourself.
Hmn. One of my Mannish heralds is here – it seems I have a visitor. Someone from the west named Ciryatur seeks to parley. Undoubtedly some idiot Elf sent by Gil-Galad to sue for “peace.” Bwa ha ha. Let’s see what he has to say.