Sauron’s Blog

Date: December 12th, 273 F.A. (Years of the Sun)
My Mood Is: disappointed

Well, I found Men. What a letdown. Seriously, I think Eru Ilúvatar has just given up trying, which is as good a reason as any to replace Him as High Lord and Master of All Creation, I think.

Carcharoth located the Men out East in Eriador, although they are apparently largely migrating West. What is the deal with the so-called Children of Ilúvatar and going West? If Eru wanted all His monkey-people to live in the West, why didn’t He create them there?

Listen, when Melkor and I created this crap planet (yes, it was us — the other Ainur just sat around and let us do all the work), everything was in perfect order. Geometrically perfect and symmetrical continents, perfectly conical mountains — everything in its logical place. Now look at what a mess Arda is. I wouldn’t trust these so-called Valar to run a Ford dealership, much less a physical universe.

Whatever a “Ford dealership” is.

And speaking of creating… look. So Eru decided to create a mortal race, the Elves, that looks like hairless albino apes. Fine, He likes primates. Then that talent-free dumbass Aulë made the Dwarves, which are just fat stunted Elves. Well sure, Aulë is as creative as the average colon, and produces the same product. No wonder his race is just a bad copy of Eru’s.

But now we see Men, and guess what? If an Elf and a Dwarf had a kid (yuck), you’d have a Man. They’re just a stockier, shorter Elf, or a taller, thinner Dwarf. Great creativity there, Eru. Good work. Whadd’ya do, design Men between kippers at breakfast?

Plus, they have these bizarre, rounded ears. And they smell like poo all the time.

I’m sorry, but there are so many other, better body designs than upright bipedal, bilaterally symmetrical, four-limbed, endoskeletal, pentadactyl, binocular and binaural chordates. For instance, imagine if we made a mortal race out of Hallucigenia — that would kick ass. I don’t think we kept any of those guys — there are probably some fossils, somewhere, though.

Sure, primates have tool-using hands, two of them, which is very important when you need a slave race to dig holes and carve statues of you.  But octopodes have eight tool-using limbs, so why not make an octo-race? I don’t want to go anywhere near the water, but I’m sure I could slap together some kind of talking land-octopus. That would be way cooler than “Men.”

Speaking of tentacles, I actually designed my own race. Didn’t I tell you? I mean, it’s just some of the lesser evil Maiar incarnated into physical bodies, but still. They’re called “Wargs,” which is a very cool name I came up with after Carcharoth suggested it. Originally, I designed them as 400′ long giant black wolves with vicious red tentacles coming from their shoulders. They were kewl.

Melkor hated the design. He went on about resource allocations and production quotas — all the shit I tell him when I point out that Project Flying Fire-Breathing Monster is 12 millennia behind schedule and 800% over budget. Then he showed me his Warg redesign — they looked like some kind of big, mangy pig-dog. What the hell?

Finally, I got Melkor to agree that Wargs would be large, talking wolves, and that the Orcs would be able to use them as mounts. I’m proud of them — but the giant, tentacled Wargs were much cooler. (Tentacles are just really useful. I should grow some.)

Anyway, I’m sending some of my spies out to the Men, to tell them the truth about the Valar and to keep them properly terrified of us. You know, the usual. Maybe we can get some slaves out of it, eliminate the rest, make coats from their skins. It’s Winter, you know.

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.

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 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.

Date: March 25th, 1 F.A. (Years of the Sun)
My Mood Is: betrayed

Today is my birthday. And it’s ruined!

Yeah yeah yeah, okay, how can I, Sauron Gorthaur, Chief of the Maiar, Master of Angband and Lord of Werewolves, who was made at the hand of Eru Ilúvatar in the Timeless Halls in the Days Before Days, have a birthday?

I’d like to say I determined it through some fancy calculation based on esoteric knowledge known only to the Ainur. But in fact, I picked it myself when I was hiding in the East during the Imprisonment of Melkor. It cheered me up to celebrate my birthday, and gift myself with a meal of raw Elf-flesh.

Anyway. Today was my birthday, but I was working, checking the outer defenses of Angband. It seems the Valar, perturbed by Melkor’s escape, have doubled the fortifications around Valinor, making their mountains extra tall with slippery slides you can’t climb. This is utterly ridiculous, since (1) they left an ungated entrance right smack dab in the middle of the wall, so their Elvish pets can get in and out, and (2) WE CAN SHIFT SHAPE AND FLY. Morons.

But I was double-checking the walls, climbing along the peaks of Thangorodrim when I came upon something astonishing — there was an Elf chained to one of the peaks!

WTF???

So I talked to him. His name is Maedhros, and intimidated by the Terror of My Eyes, he started blabbing his whole story, which was pretty much based on being sorely mistreated by this fellow called “Morgoth.”

It took me a while to figure out that “Morgoth” is Melkor. Yes, this was one of those idiot Elves who went across the sea to go be willing slaves and captives of the Valar. Apparently, they’re back — at least, some of them.

One of them was called Fëanor, who had these jewels that Melkor really, really wanted. (Can you imagine? A being of our divine stature, obsessed with a piece of jewelry? How stupid is that? What is wrong with Melkor nowadays???) So I guess Melkor killed some king, stole the jewels, and fled to Angband.

This Fëanor and his friends followed, and want to get the jewels back. Apparently they did a lot of evil shit along the way — Fëanor sounds like he might have been kind of a cool guy, for an Elf.

Anyway, Fëanor arrives in Beleriand, and is immediately attacked by an army of Orcs. He prevails, and raising an army of his own, and begins to march on Angband (ha!). He’s attacked again, and this time, Gothmog kills him.

Then Melkor actually sent ambassadors to negotiate with Fëanor’s sons. Remember the last time we negotiated? With mortals? Neither do I!

There’s another battle, and the Elves are slain or forced to flee. But this guy, Maedhros, eldest son of Fëanor, was captured, and Melkor chained him to the mountain.

Now, the problem with all this is I KNEW NOTHING ABOUT IT. Why on Middle-Earth would Melkor send out an army without me to lead them? We only ever lose battles when Melkor is in charge! I never lose!

I’ll tell you why. Because when Melkor first got back from Valinor and tried to tell me about all the shenanigans he got into with Elves out there, I made fun of the idea that Anthropomorphic Manifestations of Eternal Verities, like us, would ever give a flying crap about anything one of the “Children of Ilúvatar” did or said. It’s like you, dear reader, worrying about what a hill of ants thinks of you.

I think Melkor was embarrassed after telling me about it. And now he didn’t want to tell me that these idiotic Elves had followed him home.

I’m going to go talk to Melkor about this. You know, things were really a lot better before he came back. No Valinorian super-Elves with bright eyes, no freakin’ Sun or Moon. All because he killed those idiotic trees and stole some jewels.

Hmn. I want to see these jewels. I can’t imagine they’re worth all this trouble.

Date: January 1st, 1 F.A. (Years of the Sun)
My Mood Is: excruciated

Auuuugh!

Just when you think those filthy, Elf-loving Valar traitors are out of your fur, they pull some ridiculous stunt!

Last night I was overseeing the feeding and brushing of the Orc-spawn, weeding out and gobbling down the weak ones, when Carcharoth came yelping into Angband, complaining about some horrible light in the sky. I went out to take a look.

It seems Aulë, my clueless and talent-free ex-boss, rescued some of the light from one of those idiotic trees, and used it to create a moon. Well, The Moon, because they’re never going to be able to pull this shit again. Some guy Tilion, a maia of Oromë, was hauling this big, round white piece of junk across the sky — our sky that was so beautiful and black before Varda vomited stars all over it.

Well, Morgoth and I were still debating which of us would kill Tilion and which would consume The Moon, denying the world its light forever, when the unthinkable happened.

From the East, a terrible bright burning started to rise from the horizon, which resolved into a bright, white light shifted toward the yellow. The firmament turned blue as this terrible light extinguished The Moon and the stars.

Then a burning ball of fire rose into the sky. It would have been the most beautiful thing in the world, if we had made it, all burning hydrogen and deadly radiation — but its fiery light was poisoned and diluted by the weak, golden radiance saved from the dried out husk of one of those trees.

I could feel its heat on my face even from tens of thousands of miles away. And now the whole world was baking under its merciless calefaction, and all those things that love the night and the dark and fear and teeth, like my beloved wolves, were forced to hide in the rocks and dirt.

Those assholes!

Well, Melkor wasn’t going to put up with this shit. He and I and a hundred balrogs sped into the sky, and by the time the fiery orb had settled below the horizon in the West, we had caught up to Tilion. He and Melkor fought, while the rest of us assailed the orb — but its cold light burned, and my flesh and fur were seared, and several of the balrogs were extinguished.

We made a strategic retreat, and Melkor sits on his throne in the Nethermost Pits even as I write, devising ways to eradicate the Moon, and the Sun, as they are calling it.

We found out that Arien steers the Sun through the sky, which has caused a big uproar here in Angband. She was one of the most powerful of the Fire Spirits back in the Timeless Halls (and one of the hottest, too — in both senses of the word).

It’s inconcievable to us that one so worthy would join with the Valar traitors, and assail us with fire, which is our element, not theirs. She’s going to have to be destroyed — unless I can turn her…

Imagine hurling the Sun right smack dab into the center of Valimar, the City of the Valar! How cool would that be?

Date: Before the Sun and Moon, but after the Count of Time began
My Mood Is: vindicated

Sorry I haven’t posted in so long, but we’ve been really busy, Melkor and I. Plus, with the world plunged back into darkness, there’s really no way to keep track of time. (I need to invent a way to do that — maybe something I could put on my wrist, and watch it whenever I want to know what time it is. Hmn. I’ll talk to one of the better Craft Spirits about it — his name’s K’lak.)

Anyway, after Melkor came back to Angband, he spent a lot of time telling me about his stunningly dull adventures in Valinor. When I could finally get a word in, I told him everything we had been up to in his absence.

And I told him about the whole Thingol-Melian thing.

Believe it or not, I think he was even angrier than I was. The idea of a maia and an elf doing the humpty dance is — well, it’s offensive on every level possible. It goes against the natural order. It’s just sick.

So Melkor declared we would go kick Thingol’s ass, which is exactly what I wanted. Almost everyone we lost from the debacle at Utumno had wandered back to join me at Angband. Plus, we finally finished creating the Orcs. They’re waaaay better than Elves — the upgrades Melkor and I designed have really worked out great. Sure, they’re not aesthetically pleasing, but after we drive the Valar traitors into the Everlasting Dark, we’ll destroy them all (and the filthy Elves and the stinking Dwarves) and begin again, designing our own mortal races that will live to worship us.

Anyway. We put together an army of Orcs and sicced them on Thingol, sending them south into Neldoreth and Region. Let me tell you, none of the Elves were ready for us. They had never seen Orcs before.

And I’ll let you in on an important difference between us and the Elves. Elves make their armor all light and pretty, with artistic patterns and jewels and flowing capes and feathery helmets. Their swords are thin and graceful, and sing as they are wielded.

Yeah. We dress our Orcs in thick, heavy, unadorned iron armor with helmets and greaves and gauntlets and braces and solerets. They have thick iron and wood shields as large as their bodies. They wield massive iron blades with razor-sharp edges.

Guess who does better in battle?

Now you’re probably going to find out that practically all our Orcs were killed. We sent out about 10,000, and about three dozen came back. In fact, the Elves are already spinning this as their “victory.”

Know why none of our Orcs came back? We wouldn’t let them. After the Orcs ripped through Beleriand, killing every Elven warrior, raping every elf-maiden, using the children for shooting practice and eating the babies for dinner, we sent them West and East, burning every green leaf as they went.

Eventually, Thingol and his buddies did indeed kill almost all our Orcs. But you know what? Who cares! We can crank out another 10,000 Orcs in about a year! They’d have to kill a hundred Orcs before it would hurt us as badly as when they lose one Elf. And we killed thousands of Elves.

Best of all, we apparently killed this guy Denethor, King of Lindon, some kind of butt buddy of Thingol’s. Unfortunately, we did not get Thingol himself, or his whore wife Melian. Next time.

Now Melian has constructed some kind of lame magical barrier around Doriath, to keep herself and her sex ape safe from our wrath. Nice try, bitch!

Listen, as long as the skies are dark of the light of the Trees and the Valar cower in Valinor, we shall be invincible!

Date: Before the Sun and Moon, but after the Count of Time began
My Mood Is: stunned

Melkor is back! No, really! It turns out that noise was him!

Apparently, after the war, the Valar traitors dragged Melkor back to Valinor and threw him in the Halls of Mandos, where they kept him imprisoned for three ages.

Has it really been three ages? I wouldn’t know. How long is an “age?”

Anyway, they eventually let Melkor free, and Manwë the Dickless Prick actually pardoned him, seemingly convinced that three ages sitting in dark hole was gonna put Melkor in a better mood. What the hell is wrong with that guy? I mean, just how stupid is he?

So Melkor decided to hang out for a while in Valinor, and get up to some mischief. He says the place is just crawling with elves, so Melkor spent a bunch of time screwing with them. I didn’t really listen to this part - Melkor went on and on about all these freakin’ elves and their families and arguments. Who cares?

Anyway, the Valar finally figured out that Melkor wasn’t “reformed,” so he escaped south to the land Avathar, which is in Valinor but on the other side of the Pelóri, so it wasn’t poisoned by the light of those insipid trees. And guess who he found there?

No, guess!

Ungoliant! Remember her, the really weird chick from back in the Timeless Halls? Turns out she’s been living down south in spider form, eating everything in sight. I am not at all surprised she got fat.

So Melkor hooked up with Ungoliant, and convinced her to help him attack those moronic trees, which they did. Ungoliant sucked all the life and light out of them, and they’re just a couple of dried-out husks. Excellent work, if you ask me.

Long story short, Melkor and Ungoliant escaped. They stopped off at some guy’s house to kill him and take his magic rocks — seriously, anything about elves and I just tune out — and then they crossed the grinding ice of the Helcaraxë and made it back to Middle Earth.

That’s when Ungoliant decided to attack Melkor. It was Melkor who was screaming when I sent the Balrogs to go check it out. Seriously, Melkor has really lost the old mojo if Ungoliant can almost kick his ass.

The Balrogs showed up, drove Ungoliant away, and brought Melkor back here to Angband. End of story.

I don’t know what’s going to happen now. I have fixed feelings about Melkor being back. But I do have to say this: he is PISSED.

And that, my friends, can only be a good thing.

Date: Before the Sun and Moon, but after the Count of Time began
My Mood Is: bewildered

We just heard a terrible noise coming out of the far northwest of Middle-Earth. It was the same sound the Orcs make when I torture them, but a million times worse. 

It was clearly of supernatural origin, as we could hear it in Angband hundreds of miles away.  Yes, I’ve returned to Angband — it’s my house, and I won’t be driven into hiding because Melkor was too much of a pussy to defeat Manwë and his butt buddies.

Anyway, I’ve sent some of the balrogs to see what it’s all about. 

Date: Before the Sun and Moon, but after the Count of Time began
My Mood Is: sickened

Okay, I’m still just totally — what? Disgusted? Sickened? Perplexed? Infuriated? Over this whole Melian situation. I mean, I get that we could never be together again — she sided with the Dickless Prick. It’s not like I’m still in love with her or anything.

But marrying an ELF????  Listen, I’m into some pretty sick shit, what with the burning and torturing and killing and all. In order to breed the Orcs, I’ve had to do some pretty nasty things to them. Lots of incest, for one thing. So it’s not like I’m one to judge.

Except I’m not going around shtupping any freaking elves.  I can’t imagine even being attracted to one of them. I’m a freaking Maia of the freaking Ainur of the freaking Timeless Halls, for chrissakes.

Anyway, this is not what I was going to blog about today. There are other things to worry about than Melian getting her metaphorical pooter diddled by a pointy-eared ape.

Specifically, a few years ago Carcharoth was out roaming the darkened forests when he came upon yet another race of bipedal mortals. These were significantly different from the elves, which are tall, fair and quite tasty, with really tender white meat.  The new mortals are short, squat and stringy — all nasty, foul-tasting dark meat.  Perfectly good for feeding Orcs, but no good for the rest of us.

Well, obviously I just assumed these were Men. After all, Eru Ilúvatar would never lie, right? And He said there would be two races, right? Elves and Men. And since these weren’t Elves, they had to be Men. Simple deductive reasoning.

I quickly determined these “Men” would be of no value to us, and ordered the various werewolves, vampires, trolls and giants I’ve got roaming Middle Earth to kill them on sight.

Well, I was over near Eglador, wearing a pleasing elvish shape, just spying things out. I happened to be near Menegroth, that hole in the ground that Melian and Thingol hide in, but that was just a coincidence. I was mapping out terrain in preparation for invasion, not spying on Melian and her fucktoy.

Anyway.  I ran into a bunch of these so-called “Men,” who were on their way to see Thingol. I could have destroyed them with a wave of my hand, but I didn’t want to reveal myself to Melian, so I played nice and pretended to be a friendly elf prince.  And that’s when I learned — these aren’t Men!

The elves call them Naugrim, and they call themselves Khazâd. But they’re just Dwarves. Stupid, stunted Dwarves. And not Men at all!

Turns out Aulë made them, long ago. I’m not surprised — they look like Aulë’s work, shoddy and ill-designed. And did Eru punish Aulë for his presumption? Of course not. Because that would have been FAIR.

So Eru LIED about there only being two mortal races. And He punished Melkor and myself for original thinking, but not Aulë. Infallible my ass!

Now I’ve got the boys on double patrols, looking for Men. And any of Aulë’s stinking Dwarves they find are to be euthanized on sight.

Date: Before the Sun and Moon, but after the Count of Time began
My Mood Is: dumbfounded

She… I mean… WHAAAT????