Posts Tagged ‘Er-Murazor (MERP)’

#79: In Which I Go on a Gift-Giving Spree

May
17

Date: June 12, 2204 S.A.
My Mood Is: crafty

Annatar, Lord of Gifts, is back in business, and business is good. I have distributed all 16 of my Rings of Power, and now I’m just waiting for the payoff.

The Dwarves were the easiest to trick — no surprise there, anything created by Aulë is going to be dumb as a post, just like its creator. All I had to do was hint to my Dwarven contacts that some magic rings were available, and the poor stupid bastards came to me.

First I got a delegation from Khazad-dûm, demanding magic rings from me — their king, Durin the Umpteenth, claimed that the rings were made with Moria-gold, and so were rightfully his. So I pretended for a while I didn’t want to give up any rings, and then “caved” to the pressure. The Khazad-dûm Dwarves got three rings, and then I gave another two to the Dwarves of Belegost and another two to Nogrod. Anyway, as long as these stumpy morons take care of their rings (and don’t let then get eaten by dragons), I will soon rule the Dwarven race!

Men have been more difficult to ensnare, as any King of Men with the power and intelligence to be worth ensaring tends to have friends amongst the accursed Elves and their Númenórean allies. But I have managed to find nine who will make useful servants — three of them are Númenórean Sea-Kings, so-called “Black Númenóreans,” whose fear of death led them to accept my rings; and one was even a woman. The first to accept a ring, El-Murazor, is now over 500 years old, and just beginning to feel “thin” and “stretched.” He can’t see it, but he’s beginning to get permanently transparent — within 50 years he’ll be a full-blown wraith. Then he’s all mine.

And when I have total control over nine Kings of Men and seven Kings of the Dwarves, the Elves will have lost all their allies in Middle-Earth. Then all I have to worry about is the damned Númenóreans, and I have a few ideas on that front. Yes, I do.

Bwa ha ha. BWA HA HA. BWA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!

Well, dinner is ready, gotta go. Later tonight I’m gonna spend a few hours polishing  my Ring — it’s precious to me, and I like to spend time with it. No, that’s not weird. It’s mine, my own… my precious.

#78: In Which I Reconsider My Strategy

Apr
4

Date: July 10, 2030 S.A.
My Mood Is: contemplative

Well, here I am in Lugbúrz, looking out over my vast minions and domains, and considering that carbuncle on my ass known as Eriador. It seems I can invade and hold every inch of Middle-earth except the northwest. Every time I conquer the western lands, someone comes sailing over the Sundering Seas and beats me back.

Why do the Valar, and their Eldarin and Númenórean toadies, care so much about Eriador and its inhabitants? Why do they care nothing for the Easterlings and Southrons? Hell, I don’t even bother to post an eastern defense anymore. Nobody’s coming from that direction. It seems that as long as I’m willing to let that ponce Gil-Galad alone, the Valar and the Númenóreans will let me be.

Needless to say, I am not willing to let Gil-Galad alone.

Like I said in  my last post, I’ve been thinking a lot about the good ol’ days in the First Age. You know, when Men were Men, Balrogs were Balrogs, and I was a ravenous giant wolf preying on delicious Noldoran rebels. What went wrong? Why did it have to end?

I’ll tell you. Melkor screwed it all up, and I just made the same mistake.

We always thought our greatest strength, mine and Melkor’s, those of us on the side of RIGHT and JUSTICE and ORDER, was the Armies of Fire and Ice and Darkness and Death — our balrogs and trolls and giants and vampires and werewolves and Watchers in the Water. We thought might and force were our greatest tools for victory.

But the War of Wrath proved this wrong. This latest War of the Elves and Me proved it wrong. Might is not our greatest strength — MY greatest strength.

THE RING is my greatest strength. Corruption. Influence. Quiet power. Look at our great successes in the First Age — the fall of the children of Húrin, last Lord of Dor-lómin; the treachery of Maeglin that led to the fall of Gondolin. All of our best work came about because of lies and deceit, not claws and steel.

This needs to be my new tack. Forget armies — for now, anyway. I have 16 greater Magic Rings burning a hole in my front pocket, I might as well get some use out of them. If I can’t pervert the Elves to my service, certainly Men and Dwarves are more… suggestible.

I even have my Eye on a primary target. For the last few centuries, the accursed Númenóreans have been colonizing the western coasts, bringing the lesser men of Middle-earth their corn and wine and architecture and new ways of doing long division. One of these so-called “sea kings” is Er-Murazor, a wealthy Númenórean not overfond of Gil-Galad and that gap-toothed bint Galadriel. My spies tell me he fears death, and seeks a path to eternal life.

Well, El-Murazor, I can give you life everlasting. It’s nothing for Sauron Gorthaur, Lord of the Maiar. Just take this ring, this tiny little ring that the Elves made. Isn’t it pretty? Take it, and live forevermore.

BWA HA HA HA HA HA!

Oh hey, lunch time, gotta go.