Posts Tagged ‘Númenóreans’

#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.

#77: %$#@! &%*#!! @#$%!!!

Jan
18

Date: March 25th, 1700 S.A.
My Mood Is: fuck! shit!! damn!!!

Fuck! Shit!! Damn!!! Every time things start to go my way, it all goes to shit! And – of course – on my birthday, too!

I had Middle-earth all tied up — all tied up in a little red ribbon of flame, disease and death — when who shows up? The Númenóreans! Like, hundreds of thousands of the shiny-armored buggers in thousands of shiny ships, pouring over the horizon like shiny lemmings.

And the motherfuckers know how to fight! In just two weeks they’ve pushed my main force out of Lindon and all the way back to mid-Eriador, by the banks of the Baranduin. Now they’re slaughtering my Orcs and Wargs and Trolls and Evil Men, and the river is running red and blue with thick, chunky blood. How can people with such atrocious taste in headgear be such effective warriors?

Assholes! Go back to Westernesse where you belong! Mind your own business!

I’ve tried negotiating with this Ciryatur the Ship-Lord, the admiral sent by the Númenórean emperor to aid his buddy Gil-Galad. And by “negotiating,” I mean “tricking into going home.” But no go. And yet… and yet there’s something to these Númenóreans. Something… corruptible. I wonder if some of these Númenórean princes might like their own domains in Middle-earth, with their own magic rings…

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

Oh crap! I just lost two deathyderms and six Fell Beasts. This battle sucks — IT SUCKS!!!

You know what I miss? From the First Age? Werewolves! My boyz like Draugluin, and that other fella, what was his name… Carcharoth! Yeah, whatever happened to those guys? They wouldn’t stand still and let a bunch of stupid Sea Kings rip them to shreds in a meadow.

Oh, man. There go the last of my Watchers in the Water. I’m gonna have to retreat again.

Shit! Fuck!! Damn!!!

#73: Celebrimbor Must Pay for His Crimes

Aug
19

Date: March 26th, 1601 S.A.
My Mood Is: retributive

They took off the Rings???

Un-FUCKING-believable. All this work down the drain. And all the Elven Rings needed was a simple spell to make them impossible to remove.

And whose fault is this? Celebrimbor’s, of course! That double-dealing bastard!

Alright, Sauron, calm down. Think. You can salvage the Master Plan. The Children of Ilúvatar can still be your slaves. The Rings are still out there, all 19 of them, and they are all slaves to the Ring of Power.

What to do, what to do.

Okay, first of all, CONGRATULATE ME. This isn’t a disaster — I made the Ring of Power! With this new Ring, I am far more powerful than I was before. More powerful than stupid ol’ Melkor, even. In fact, the first thing I’m going to do is complete my Black Spiky Tower of Unimaginable Evil. I’ll think I’ll call it Lugbúrz, which is “Dark Tower” in the Black Speech; Barad-dûr in Elfy-talk. Yes, Barrrrad-dûrrrrrr — roll those “rrrs,” very nice.

Step 2: Find and kill Celebrimbor, and get back my three Elven Rings. Yes, MINE — he made them, but he used MY knowledge and MY experience to do it. And while I’m at it, I’ll take the other 16 as well. Maybe find someone who will appreciate them — some Men, or even Dwarves. (And believe me, the first thing I’ll do is add a non-removal charm!)

Step 3: Do what I should have done in the first place. Forget all this “Annatar” crapola, and lead the armies of Mordor, Harad and Rhûn in a great war against the remaining Noldoran exiles and their allies. Who’s going to stop me now, the Númenóreans? They live across the sea, and don’t give a crap about Gil-Galad and his mincing Elven cronies.

Yes. The Ring of Power is the key. It’s so beautiful, so perfect. I’ve been spending a lot of time admiring it, and why shouldn’t I? It’s the single most powerful magical artifact ever created, except maybe — MAYBE — for the stupid ol’ Silmarils, and they didn’t actually do anything except shine and drive Elves crazy.

No, the Ring of Power is what will allow me mastery over all of Arda. It’s The Shit.

Watch out, Celebrimbor, I’m coming for you.

Now, where were those architectural plans? Barrrrrrrrrad-dûrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr.

#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!!!

#69: These Númenóreans Is Getting All Up in My Biznatch

Jul
8

Date: June 6th, 1222 S.A.
My Mood Is: determined

Things are moving along very well on Project Humongous Tower. A great deal of the project to-date has had to do with infrastructure — recruiting and kidnapping Orcs and Men as laborers; building towns and cities to house them; creating farms and granaries to feed them, and aqueducts to provide water; laying roads to move goods and men; and digging quarries, hundreds and hundreds of quarries.

Now you’re probably asking, Annatar, why don’t wave your hand and will the tower in into existence? You’re Lord of the Earth, Rightful Chief of the Maiar, and Master of the Flame Imperishable. Just do your magical hoodoo and forget all this mundane crap.

Well, yes. Yes, I could do that. Easily. But there are issues.

First, if I cast a spell of that magnitude (I figure it’s a 50th Level Bigby’s Godlike Fortress), it’s like writing “Sauron Is Here” in mile-high letters above Mordor for anyone with the magical chops to read it — Galadriel, Gil-Galad, and the Valar waaaay over in Aman. And I am not ready for any of those characters to know my true identity or what I am up to.

Second, the Valar might interpret it as a hostile act, or otherwise get their panties knotted up. I’m not ready for that either.

And third, I will have to tie up a great deal of my personal power in the tower before it’s done. You can’t build a quarter-mile-high Black Spiky Tower of Unimaginable Evil and expect it to keep standing on pure engineering principles. It takes mana, and lots of it. This is going to be one hell of an enchantment; and without any other Maiar to back me up, I’ll have to provide all the mojo myself.

Now here’s the thing — and proof, by the way, that Sauron Gorthaur is smarter than Aulë, Manwë TDP, Melkor and even Eru, all put together. I need to pour a bunch of my personal power into the tower. Yet I want to keep that power, and use it for other things. Impossible, right? Having your lembas and eating it too?

Wrong. I have an idea. Let’s say I instill a good part of my fëa into some kind of magical talisman, and use that talisman to build the foundations of the tower. Then I keep the talisman with me, with my hröa, at all times. I can use the magical power wherever I go, despite the fact that it’s also holding up the tower. The power is not in the tower, nor even in me, but in the talisman. Get it?

You don’t. Well, I am the smartest entity remaining in Arda. I am doomed to never be fully understood. It is my curse.

The question is, what kind of talisman should it be? I’ll consult with Celebrimbor. He’s certainly the brightest of these confounded Elves. What a bunch of dim bulbs, sitting around eating and singing and enjoying themselves, when they could be taking over the world. The waste of potential is heartbreaking.

By the way, I discovered something alarming about a century ago. Remember when I mentioned a group of rebel Men who served the Valar, the so-called Edain? Pale, sickly-looking specimens with yellow hair who followed the Noldor around like whipped dogs? They were granted the tremendous “gift” of living on a remote island in the Belegaer, cut off from the rest of humanity and from their Elven buddies.

Well, they’re back. A bunch of these “Númenóreans” have landed and set up outposts on the shores of Middle-earth, mostly around Umbar, bringing Valinorean corn and wine with which to ply the simple Men of the coasts. They’ve even infected my beloved Haradwaith with tales of the “Noble Valar” and the “evil Sauron.”

I’ll be putting a stop to this right quick.

Sigh. I have so many things to deal with at once — the Elves, the Númenóreans, the Easterlings, the Southrons, Mordor, Celebrimbor, my magical studies. It’s SO HARD being the good guy.