Posts Tagged ‘Galadriel’

#76: I Am THIS CLOSE to Total Victory!!!

Dec
20

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.

#72: LIVEBLOGGING: Sauron Gorthaur is Triumphant!!!!

Aug
12

Date: March 25th, 1601 S.A.
My Mood Is: triumphant

Today is the culmination of all my plans. Today, Sauron Gorthaur reappears and takes his rightful place as Lord of All Middle-earth. Today I am triumphant!

And today is my birthday!

So I’m liveblogging this. I want everyone to share in the glory of my inevitable victory. Pay attention for updates!

8:46 am

First, some background. Celebrimbor betrayed me and created three Elven Rings without me, so he could give one to Galadriel, his erstwhile girlfriend, and one to Gil-Galad, his supposed king. It’s okay — those boneheads would never have accepted any Rings I helped make. It all supports PHASE TWO of Project Magic Ring, which concludes today!

So right now, the three of them are wearing the Rings that Celebrimbor made — that he made using the knowledge I taught him. One Ring of Fire, one of Water, one of Air.

All waiting for ME to seize control!

9:30 am

Just arrived at the Sammath Naur, what the Orcs call “The Cracks of Doom” because I’m always throwing them down them. This is a large, stylish opening I fashioned in the side of Mount Orodruin, my personal volcano. (You should seriously consider getting a personal volcano. They’re tight.)

I’ve been experimenting here with various kinds of magma-based jewelry-making, and I’m certain I’m ready. Today is the day!

12:26 pm

Curses! It’s tough to do fine detail work with magma. I dropped my first attempt into the lava, and it melted — a whole morning’s work ruined. My creation will be indestructible, except here in the lava of the Cracks of Doom. It’s only a -1 disad because after all, what are the chances someone would march all the way through Mordor to throw the thing into the volcano? Zero, that’s what.

Anyway, now starting on Mark II.

4:12 pm

Okay, I have crafted a Ring that will be a vessel for the majority of my fëa. Like I said before, if I put a majority of my power into a magical talisman, I can use my Maia powers in a variety of ways simultaneously. And more importantly, I will be able to exert absolute control over whomever wears the Elven Rings. Control the Lords of the Wise, and you control Middle-earth!

Now it’s time to place my power into the Ring. This will require quite a few eldritch magicks, several unholy ceremonies, and a lot of human sacrifices. Better get to work.

9:43 pm

Exhausted. Must rest. One of my eyes red and fiery — maybe an infection. But experiment a success; the better part of my power now resides in the Ring. It’s beautiful, the crowning achievement of a long career. I don’t think I have ever made anything so subtle, so clever, so simple. So precious.

It sits in my hand, cooling — almost down to 1,000 degrees now. I can’t stop looking at it. But it’s more than jewelry; this Ring is a weapon. One that I will use to turn the Children of Ilúvatar to my service. Then I will destroy the Valar traitors and their Maiar slaves, kill those who betrayed me, and — if he’s lucky, and I’m feeling lenient — rescue Melkor from the Outer Dark.

But first… must rest.

11:58 pm

It’s time.

Every one of the 16 magic rings Celebrimbor and I created has a “back door,” a line of magical code that allows me to “hack in” and exert control over the fëa of the wearer. Ol’ Kelly doesn’t know that, of course. He created his three Elven Rings using the same technique. Once I put on this Ring, the Lords of the Wise will be my slaves!

Then they will know for a fact that Annatar, Lord of Gifts is truly SAURON, LORD OF THE EARTH! All will bow before me and DESPAIR!

Their three Rings will be slaves to my One! One Ring to rule them all! One Ring to find them! One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them! Yes! YES!!!

I am putting on the One Ring — NOW!

Oh, the power! I can see EVERYTHING! It’s as if Arda were young again, back when we Ainur wore no hröar! When we were spirits of perfect energy, our faces bare against the world!

And now I can feel the rings — the 16 lesser rings, and there! The three Elven Rings! All three in Lindon, where those idiots sit together, planning great deeds! I can hear their thoughts and see into their souls!

Sorry, morons! Listen up! I AM SAURON! I possess the Ring of Power! And from now on, I AM IN CHARGE!

Wait, what? What’s going on? Something’s wrong!

I can’t read their minds any more! The connection is broken! But how? How is that possible?

They… they…

They took off the Rings.

THEY TOOK OFF THE RINGS?

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#71: Nineteen Rings for the Elven-kings Under the Sky

Aug
7

Date: March 15, 1523 S.A.
My Mood Is: pleased

Project Magic Ring, my co-effort with Celebrimbor of Eregion to create a series of powerful magic rings (hence the name), is proving a tremendous success. So far, the Elf and I have created 16 rings, each with a different enchantment on it that conveys upon the wearer a specific magic ability.

The Invisibility Ring is our favorite. Ol’ Kelly (that’s what I call Celebrimbor) is quite the prankster, and he has played many a saucy jape against this or that Elf-maiden of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain whilst unseen. He’s quite a card. The Elf-maids don’t appreciate the humor, though. I’m not sure why.

I myself am most proud of the Spirit Presence Ring, the Eye of Far-Seeing Ring, and the Ring of Sexual Prowess. That last was my idea, and it’s for Celebrimbor, so to encourage him to seek the hand of Galadriel (and the death of that grinning idiot Celeborn). And by “seek the hand” of Galadriel, I mean he should seek something else. Heh heh heh.

You know what I mean. Heh heh.

You know. Heh.

Her vagina.

Anyway. Even as we have finished these rings, I have learned something astonishing, but which plays into my plans perfectly.

Celebrimbor is betraying me.

So why am I in such a good mood? Shouldn’t ol’ Sauron Gorthaur be seeking revenge against yet another traitorous, so-called “friend?” Ah, but that would be Sauron Gorthaur. I am Annatar, remember?

Celebrimbor has decided to forge three “secret” Elven rings behind my back. How did I discover this? Remember I have to take off every once in a while — I call them “sabbaticals” — when in fact I’m off to Mordor, or visiting my properties in Far Harad, or supervising the harrying of the Númenóreans. While I’m gone, I need someone to keep an eye on Kelly – so I recruited spies from amongst his people, mostly those jealous of his power and talent.

So yes, I’d be homicidally angry, except that Celebrimbor doesn’t know about PHASE TWO. If he had any idea of my Master Plan, he would have refused to create any rings in the first place. Now he will be betrayed by his own betrayal. Hoisted by his own petard.

Bwa ha ha ha ha!

Celebrimbor plans to gift one Ring to Galadriel (that should go over great with her husband) and another to Gil-Galad, keeping the third for himself. Nice way to elect yourself one of the Wise of Arda. Annatar approves.

As soon as the Rings are given, I will head straight to Mordor. Soon, all three will be my slaves. And then Sauron Gorthaur will RULE THE WORLD! BWA HA HA HA HA!

>Cough< Heh.

#70: I Have a Foolproof Plan Involving Magic Rings…

Jul
20

Date: December 25, 1502 S.A.
My Mood Is: conspiratorial

So much to do, and so few centuries to do it.

I’m ready to start building my Black Spiky Tower of Unimaginable Evil. All the pieces are in place, and I’ve pretty much cornered the Endorian market in obsidian. In the process, Mordor has shaped up nicely into a real nation. I’m especially proud that the Orcs, for so long subjugated under Melkor’s careless rule and hunted by Elves and Men, finally have an ethnic homeland of their own, where they can stand tall and proud, enslaved under my despotic theocracy.

Also, I’ve been dealing with these damned Númenóreans, by sending waves of Orcs and loyal Men to harry their coastal settlements. My people always gets slaughtered, because the Númenóreans have far better technology than they rightfully should — it seems the accursed Valar give tech to the Teleri, who pass it along to the Númenóreans. Their ships have carvel hulls with lateen rigging; they use naphtha and gunpowder; they refine steel in crucibles. This crap is all Tech Level 4, and the rest of Middle-earth is clearly Tech Level 2. It’s totally unfair.

Still, the harrying has its intended effect, and the Númenóreans have failed to expand much beyond Umbar. I hear they have explored the far reaches of the East of Middle Earth, and even seen the Gates of Morning — but who cares? I’ve seen the Gates of Morning, it’s shit.

Then there’s Celebrimbor and the Master Plan.

Remember when I said that Celebrimbor hated Galadriel? Well, turns out it’s all an act. We got drunk late one night (and by “we” I mean “he”), and he admitted that he has always been in love with her. He says she’s the most beautiful woman who ever dwelt in Arda, Lúthien Tinúviel notwithstanding. Me, I don’t see it.

Anyway, he fantasizes about replacing Celeborn as her husband, and together they rule as High King & Queen of the Noldor. “Why not of all the Elves?” I asked. Of course, this would fit in with my plans perfectly. Unfortunately, Celebrimbor views his dream all as an impossible delusion.

We’ll see about that.

I finally launched Phase One of my Master Plan. I pitched to Celebrimbor a new project: MAGIC RINGS. Lots of Elves have magical powers; Galadriel and Elrond can read minds, for instance. Why not make these powers available to all The Wise? We enchant these various Rings with specific spells — levitation, spirit sight, magic missile, psionics, invisibility, etc. Then we distribute them to those Elves worthy of using them.

Celebrimbor LOVES it. Of course he does — I designed the scheme with him in mind. We’ve already begin work.

This puts Celebrimbor in the position to decide who gets what Ring, and I’m sure this has occurred to him. He will be able to wield a great deal of political power, and not just magical power, with these Rings. Power, possibly, for Celebrimbor to grow Eregion into a real Elven nation, and to set things the way he would like them to be, in regards to Galadriel and Gil-Galad.

But this is only Phase One. Celebrimbor has no clue about PHASE TWO. The part of the plan where Annatar, Lord of Gifts is revealed as Sauron Gorthaur, Lord of the Earth. The part where Sauron becomes Master of all the Children of Ilúvatar.

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

#68: It’s Been a Busy Five Centuries

Jul
1

Date: November 16th, 998 S.A.
My Mood Is: exhausted

Hey everybody. Sorry I haven’t blogged in so long, but it’s been a busy five centuries.

Last time I wrote, I had just discovered Mordor and decided it would make a great secret base. Also, I had made friends with Celebrimbor, chief of the Gwaith-i-Mírdain and grandson of Fëanor.

Well, Mordor is coming along nicely. I’ve summoned all the Orcs I can find, along with some slaves from the East, and set them building and farming the arable land in the South, in Núrn. The Orcs don’t know I’m Sauron, because they might spill it to the Men who might spill it to the Elves. But the Orcs do what I say anyway, because I can make them HURT if they don’t.

Meanwhile, I’ve been drawing up plans for a tower – a HUGE tower, one that will make Tol-in-Gaurhoth seem like a child’s model. It will require millions of slaves and a lot of magical power to build, more power than I can summon at once at the moment. But I’ve been thinking about a way around that.

I’ve also been making occasional visits to Rhûn and the Haradwaith, to keep those Men under my dominion. Everything is going well there — sometimes the Southrons rise up against me, but a simple genocide or two keeps them in line.

Then there’s Celebrimbor. I haven’t been able to hang out with him as much as I would like, but I have learned many, many interesting things from him. Turns out Galadriel had warned him about me; but Celebrimbor does not like Galadriel or trust her. First off, Fëanor couldn’t stand her, which just makes me wish even more that Gothmog hadn’t turned Fëanor into Elf-jelly so I could have met him.

Second, there’s something of a succession issue amongst the Noldor. An argument can be made that Galadriel or Celebrimbor himself should be “High King of the Noldor,” and not Gil-Galad. I don’t follow all the details because yawn. Galadriel wants the job, but apparently agreed to Gil-Galad’s succession along time ago and can’t go back on her word. Celebrimbor has no interest in being king, since it would take time away from his work — but he’s hung up on the legalities, and resents Gil-Galad as a usurper.

Verrrry interesting. If I could get Celebrimbor installed as High King, that would make me Advisor to the High King – in other words, High King. I need to find a way to (1) make Celebrimbor more powerful than Galadriel and Gil-Galad combined, but still less powerful than me and (2) make sure he will do as I say and not betray me. Like I said in my last post, you can’t trust anybody. And power corrupts, just look at Manwë the Dickless Prick sorry, Penis-free Jerk. Language.

Another thing I’ve learned is that Celebrimbor is obsessed with recreating the Silmarils. It took a while for him to open up about this, as Galadriel and Gil-Galad both have come down on him for it. I encouraged him; but secretly, I think it’s a terrible idea. Those stupid rocks just drove people crazy, even Melkor, who stapled them to his head and walked around like a giant track lighting feature, whatever that is. Fact is, I could show Celebrimbor how to extract the Pure and Eternal Essence of Light Itself from the electromagnetic radiation of the Sun and Moon, and together we might even suss out how to refract that Essence permanently into a gem. But it seems like a lot of work for nothing but tsuris.

Well, I’d better go. Celebrimbor is tired of working on weapons, and wants to practice making jewelry. I guess we can do that for a while.

#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!

#65: Now THIS Is More Like It!

May
28

Date: December 12, 578 S.A.
My Mood Is: delighted

Now this is more like it!

After my dismal experience trying to ingratiate myself to the Elves of Eriador, especially the loathsome Galadriel and the hapless Gil-Galad, I decided to try my luck to the East. If you head that way, as the vampire flies, from Lindon, you cross the Ered Luin, the Hithaeglir, Cheerywood the Great, and Rhovanion. There you will find the distant land of Rhûn, with it’s inland sea that was hewn violently from the earth so long ago where Melkor gallantly defeated the cowardly Tulkas.  This is the home of the Arhûnedain, that the unlettered simpletons of Eriador refer to as “Easterlings.”

Those who dwell in the North-east on the steppes are horse-riders, who worshipped Manwë in the form of the sun. I put a stop to that right quick; after I performed a few simple magic tricks and desalinized their water supply, they declared me King of the Gods. I should turn their worship to Melkor — I’ll get to that at some point.

To their South live their close cousins and mortal enemies, tribes who dwell in crude city-states. These Men I prefer out of any I have met, because they did the coolest thing. After I wowed them by making the Moon swallow the Sun and vomit it out again (Arien and Tilion pulling one of their pointless “eclipses,” but I took credit), they built me a pyramid! Sure, it’s nothing but a bunch of big rocks piled on top of each other, but still. I was so touched I almost shed a tear. This is exactly the kind of sycophantic, worshipful behavior I was hoping for when I devised this whole “Annatar” scheme.

I’ve been living here in the East for a while as a god-king, albeit maintaining my friendly, elf-like visage. Soon I will move on the the South, see what I can do to sway the Men down there.

But my mind always returns to the Elves of the West. Remember, Manwë and his traitors blasted a whole continent into the sea in a Pyrrhic attempt to “help” those people. If they, the Elves I mean, go complaining to the Valar about good ol’ Annatar, who knows what moronic stunt Manwë will pull? I have to get the Elves on my side, even Galadriel and her slower brother.

I need a plan. A base of operations. Maybe an army.

But what plan? How do you get a bunch of stubborn Elves to do what you command? Even when it’s for their own good?

Must think on this.

#64: Gil-Galad Was an Elven-king / Who Didn’t Know a Freakin’ Thing

May
19

Date: June 25, 501 S.A.
My Mood Is: aggravated

Un-be-LIEV-able!

After dealing with Galadriel and her brain-donor husband, I knew I had to get to Lindon quick before they could send word to this Artanáro, High King of the Noldor. So I forgot about walking, and just transfigured myself into a vampire and flew the roughly 300 miles to Artanáro’s capital.

Traveling over Western Eriador as a giant anthropomorphic bat-creature, dripping venom, proved to be disturbing to the few Elves and mortals living below. I really must learn how to transform into a flying creature that is less alarming. Anything but an Eagle — I HATE those guys.

Anyway. Lindon is just on the other side of the Ered Luin, a line of mountains that used to be the border between Beleriand and Eriador. Technically these Elves still live in Beleriand, the part not sunk into the sea by those oh-so-good and oh-so-merciful, continent-sinking mass-murdering Valar. Just like an Elf to cling to the past.

As I came down upon Lindon, I searched for the Noldoran capital. It took me a while to find — a group of white stone buildings with peaked roofs — because it was located on the ocean. Why on Arda would anyone want to live near a sea of brine-filled, stinking fish-piss? I can’t imagine.

I saw a regiment of Elves waiting for me. Fortunately, they didn’t see me in vampire form — I shapeshifted, and appeared from the trees as if from nowhere. Very impressive.

Well, the Elves of Lindon had been “warned” about my approach. I was flabbergasted — after all, I flew here! But then I remembered — Galadriel was psychic, and so it followed that her brother Artanáro was as well.

They didn’t call him that here — he proclaimed himself as Ereinion Gil-galad, which means “Heir of Kings Star of Radiance” in Elfy-talk, which demonstrates how lousy these Elves are at poetry. Just another thing to educate them in.

This Gil-Galad informed me that he didn’t know who I was, or whom I served, but that I was banned from Lindon, and must return to Eriador the way I came.

I may be the New & Improved Annatar, Lord of Gifts, Counselor to the Children of Ilúvatar, kind and just and wise and forgiving — but no one talks to me that way. He had about 20 Elven warriors with him, none of whom could have bent a hair on my head. Gil-Galad himself had a nasty-looking spear chock-full of amateur enchantments, but I was about as afraid of it as you would be of a toothpick.

Still, slaying the High King, even if he deserved it, would not make me any friends amongst Elves or Men. It might impress some Dwarves — but who needs Dwarves?

So I smiled, expressed regret that I would not be staying, and headed back East, gritting my teeth and grumbling in High Ainurian about how best to torture to death the meddlesome Galadriel.

Tackling the Elves is not going to be as easy as I thought. I’m going to try Men next, they’re much dumber and more pliable. Unfortunately, they’re like flies — short-lived and odorous. Once I have Men under my domin– tutelage, maybe the Elves will come around.

#63: Hey Galadriel — See You Next Tuesday!

May
5

Date: June 23, 501 S.A.
My Mood Is: resilient

Well, my new adventures as Annatar, Lord of Gifts haven’t gotten off to the promising start I was hoping for when I invented the “new me.” But I can’t give up — the road goes ever on and on. Hey, that might make a good song.

I took on my new, more pleasing form; and fashioning myself a hefty walking staff from a limb donated by Young Man Willow, I took off for Lindon. I was hoping to not have to walk the whole way — indeed, I considered assuming my true form and flying — but I figured if I’m going to relate to these Children of Ilúvatar, I had better learn to live like them.

So it was walk, walk, walk. I kept an eye out for horses, those gangling beasts that Men rode into battle against Melkor — a preposterous mode of transportation, but better than all this walking. No luck. Apparently, horses are not sylvan creatures.

Every once in a while I came across a settlement of Men — usually mud huts, or tiny villages on stilts out on bogs. These Men wear their hair in dreadlocks, sport leather skirts and paint their faces blue. They must be the dumbest beings I have ever encountered. Seriously, I have traded wittier banter with cave trolls.

The largest Mannish settlement I visited was called Brehyll, a village of about 20 huts located along an old east-west Dwarf road. Its occupants survive by grinding acorns into pancakes and selling watery beer to passing Dwarves. They didn’t know what to make of me — they called me a “wizard” and asked me to make it rain. This was trivial, so I did — and they went ballistic, declaring I must be an agent of their beloved god, Manwë Súlimo.

You would have been proud of me — I didn’t overreact too much, and I hardly killed anybody. It seems these Men used to worship Melkor, but had recently come into contact with some Elves living to the north, who had taught them to worship the Dickless– I mean Manwë.

So I apologized profusely, and asked how to find these Elves. They sounded like they might be the kind of people who could use my advice. And maybe, eventually, after seeing how much I was doing for them and how little the Valar were willing to contribute, these Elves might turn their worship to Melkor, or better yet to me.

They lived in a place called Lake Evendim, in the north of Eriador. It was cooler there, and there were fewer trees, which was all the better to me. It turned out to be a mixed settlement of a few hundred Noldor, Sindar, and Green-elves. For some reason they had splintered off from Lindon, under the leadership of a Sinda called Celeborn and a blonde-haired Noldo named Galadriel.

Galadriel. She is going to be a problem.

I mean, this guy Celeborn, he’s friendly, charismatic, fun to hang out with, and dumb as a bag of Orcs. If the other Sindarin Elves are as gullible — I mean trusting, I won’t have many problems. But his wife…

First, the positive. She’s hot. Really smoking hot. Hey, I’m not going to go there — I still think it’s basically bestiality, a Maia and an Elf — but I can appreciate that she is very attractive. Were Melkor to return from the Outer Dark and I to go back to my former ways, I could totally see raping her to death.

What? That’s totally a compliment.

But the negatives far outweigh the golden hair lit by the sun, the skin like a gossamer cloud, and the great rack. She’s the niece of Fëanor, the guy who made Melkor’s shiny rocks; which means she’s pretty much the most powerful Noldo left in Middle-earth (although she is not High Queen of the Noldor — note to self: look into this.) She is much smarter than her dimwitted husband, and appears to possess strong psychic abilities.

The moment I was presented to her as “Annatar, Lord of Gifts, a Wise Wizard of the South,” she attempted to penetrate my mind. I cut her off, quite easily — but this aroused her suspicions. While I chatted with her inane husband, she probed me with telepathic questions.

“Who are you? Do you come from the Uttermost West?”

“Open your mind to me. Why do you conceal your fëa?”

“I sense evil in your staff. It comes from a tree with a black heart.”

What? An evil tree? How can a tree be evil? It’s a freakin’ tree!

They let me stay for about a week. There were feasts, and a lot of singing. A lot of singing. Singing is okay, but too much singing is the reason I left the Timeless Halls of Ilúvatar in the first place. Most of them were songs from something called the Quenta Silmarillion, which is supposed to be the story of the Valar and the Maiar and the First Wars, and the Lamps and the Trees and the War of the Jewels. But boy oh boy, are they getting their facts wrong. Once I am advising these people, I will be rewriting quite a lot of this Silmarillion. Good thing I’ve been keeping this blog as a reference!

The whole time I’m at Lake Evendim, this Galadriel is undermining me. Whispering against me behind my back. Shooting me icy stares. Following me around, trying to catch me in some kind of misdeed. My mind was closed to her, but hers was like a smashed open coconut to me. All suspicion and doubt.

Oh, and the snarky comments! “Perhaps the great Lord Annatar could enlighten us on his views on the Gift of Men.” Or “Will the Lord of Gifts see fit to share with us his thoughts on the fate of those Eledhrim whose fëar refuse the summons of Mandos?” Jeez, can you please shut up?

Wait, some Elven spirits refuse to go to the Halls of Mandos? Note to self: look into this too.

Figures this chick was trained by Melian back in Doriath. I am hardly surprised.

The upshot is, Celeborn politely and regretfully kicked me out after a week, caving to his shrew of a wife. It’s okay — once I get in good with Artanáro, the High King at Lindon, this Galadriel is going to have to listen to me. Or else.

I mean — or else we’ll have a long, constructive conversation, leading to a shared consensus. The new me doesn’t make threats!