Posts Tagged ‘Fingon’

#46: I Hate Eagles

May
21

Date: April 15th, 1 F.A. (Years of the Sun)
My Mood Is: in a snit

So now it’s Eagles, is it?

Remember that Elf we had chained to the face of Thangorodrim? Well, he’s gone. Left behind nothing but the shackle, his severed right hand, and the fresh smell of pine.

It seems this Noldor called Fingon rescued the Elf, Maedhros, who is his grandfather’s first wife’s grandson or something. Yes, now I’m having to keep track of these ridiculous Elves. Melkor has got me sending my spies to keep watch on what these unevolved little bags of skin are up to.

It seems Maedhros’ camp stole some boats and abandoned Fingon’s group back in Aman, which was quite the assholish thing to do. So good on them. But instead of marching back to Valinor with their metaphorical tails between their legs (wait — do Elves have tails? I’ve never looked!), Fingon’s contingent decided to cross over to Middle Earth, on foot, across the Grinding Ice of Helcaraxë.

This is the single dumbest thing anyone, Ainu or mortal, has ever done in the history of Creation ever EVER EVER. Good work on designing those Elves, Eru!

First, the Helcaraxë is nothing but 500 miles of glacial ice literally grinding up against itself. It’s like, put 10,000 metric tons of firn and glacial ice into a blender (whatever a “blender” is), press “Puree,” and then leave it on forever. That’s the Helcaraxë. It’s not a freakin’ promenade, its the 10th Level of Icy Blue Hell.

Okay, and second, they COULD HAVE BUILT BOATS. But Sauron, you say, followed immediately I hope by “Lieutenant of Melkor, Lord of Werewolves, Chief of the Maiar, and Master of Angband,” perhaps these stupid Elves did not know how to build boats. Fine. So why not spend 20 years learning to build boats? Or 50 or a 100? You’re Elves! You’re frikkin’ immortal! Who cares how long it takes?

Aaaanyway. A whole bunch of these Elves got ground up by the Grinding Ice, which is pretty much Darwin at work. (He’s one of the minor Craft Spirits — I think it’s actually spelled “Dahruin.” He invented Natural Selection, which meant all we had to do was drop some amino acids in a pond, wait 4.5 billion years, and ta da — a complex disc-wide ecosystem. Saved us a lot of effort.) So by the time Fingon and his half-frozen friends got to Beleriand, they were royally pissed.

So, long story short (I know, too late, but what are you going to do about it? I’m a god!) Fingon’s group and Maedhros’ group weren’t exactly getting along. So Fingon decides to do something to mend fences.

What’s that? Fingon’s group were the victims, so it should have been up to Maedhros’ people to make amends? Well, you only think that because you have a brain in your head.

Fingon climbed Thangorodrim (that was him singing, if you want to call that reedy Elvish caterwauling “singing,” that I mentioned in my last post), and tried to rescue Maedhros. Which was no use, because when Sauron forges a chain, that chain does not break.

And then came the Eagles.

Apparently, Manwë the Dickless Prick has corralled a bunch of the smaller, less intelligent air spirits and let them loose in the form of a race of giant talking birds of the family Accipitridae. I wonder if Eru knows his protégé is running around inventing races?

So these Eagles came, and helped Fingon save Maedhros, and carried them off by air to Melkor knows where. And all we had to show for it was a hand, which was stringy and tasted like chicken.

So now we have to deal with these Eagles. Fortunately, Melkor is still working on his Flying Fire-Breathing Monster Project, which is still unfinished, despite the fact it’s been in development for thousands of years. I was in charge of the Elf-to-Orc upgrade, and that only took me a few centuries. Melkor needs to get with the program.

#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.