Tag: heraldofmelkor

-turns up draped decoratively over a currently-unused anvil-

LANGON!  

You chilly old fox! Where have you been my comrade? The winter has been songless without you! I’ve had no one to explore the ice caves with! You absolute devil! Hell and iron, Langon, it’s been a full Age if it’s been a day… Embrace me before you melt, my spiny trickster! Master will want you all to himself now you’re home. 

Tolkien’s Rejected Villains

anthropologyarda:

For Day 5 of Silmweek, I haven’t got enough time for a full meta, so I thought that I’d talk about some fun evil minions from the weird early versions of the Legendarium. Some of these are quite interesting figures, so I thought that fanfiction writers especially might be interested in rescuing them from the scrap heap, and polishing up some new background characters they don’t have to name. Remember that the early drafts are kind of crazy sometimes and often aren’t canonical to Tolkien’s later writings. It’s pretty great. 

  • Lungorthin was a balrog and Melkor’s Master of the Guard. He spent most of his time in Angband’s throne room, guarding his master. Why does a Vala need to be guarded by a less powerful being? Paranoia I guess.

    Lungorthin’s claim to fame is that he burns with white flames, rather than red ones like regular Balrogs. Since white flames are hotter than red ones, Lungorthin seems like an extra special kind of evil you should definitely avoid.

  • Langon was the herald of Melkor who was sent to negotiate with the Valar when they besieged Utumno in the Book of Lost Tales. Probably had a great voice.

  • Fankil – a proto-Sauron figure from the early outlines, he was Melkor’s lieutenant and the leader of dark armies in the East (Palisor). After Melkor was imprisoned, Fankil started corrupting the first Men with his Dwarves (who were evil at the time) and goblins, turning them against the elves, and starting the first war between Elves and goblins. In an even earlier version, he and his evil dwarves conquered Palisor. 
  • Fluithin or Ulbandi the Ogress. What’s an Ogre? In the early drafts, a race of cannibal giants. In later versions they don’t appear except in tales, and were probably either a mythological race, or possibly another name for trolls. I prefer to think of ogres as prototype trolls myself. Fluithin is from the earliest drafts, which were pretty weird, and in that version the Ainur had children and behaved more like pagan gods. Fluithin had a child with Morgoth, and that is literally all we know about her.
  • Kosomot/Kalimbo – the earliest version of Gothmog the Balrog, where he was the giant ogre son of Morgoth and Fluithin the Ogress and wasn’t on fire.
  • Tevildo, Prince of Cats. Certified children’s book villain. A great black cat with a collar of gold who ruled a castle full of giant cats. What did Tolkien have against cats anyway? Beren is sent to Tevildo when he’s captured by Melkor, and Huan and Tinúviel defeat Tevildo, free Beren, cast down his castle and turn all his cats regular size. Several rewrites later, Tevildo eventually becomes Sauron. Yes. Sauron was originally a giant magic cat.

I am ALL for bringing back obscure Silm villains

Rest assured, I know your loyalty to our Master. I would not wish for him to lose you. If I speak of you to him in your absence, it is only to say how hard you are working toward his goals, that he may be reminded where you might hesitate to advertise it of yourself.

Thank you, Herald. This brings me comfort; more than I can say. I too, know your loyalty, and how my Master counts on you. A more devoted servant he could not wish for. 

Hah. Even the Valar could not find fault with your service; it is impeccable. 

For Sauron: Out of Melkor’s other servants, which could be the biggest threats to your position if they were to plot against you?

Oh, there would be many!

As you recall, I am an interloper in my Master’s court.
Many of his children had no love for me when I chose to enter his service, and sought to chase me off, or else bend his ear against me. Who was I? Another turn-coat drawn to Melkor’s glory, a cog from the Valar’s grand machine who would lose its taste for hardship. No one believed I would stay for long; redemption was too near, the comfort of easy service to the one who made me still alive in my heart.
Gothmog in particular held me to be no more than a petty rival, soon to be chased back whence I came. “Aulë’s tinkerer” he called me, long ago.  

…I bear him no grudge today. We have long since learned to accept and even enjoy each other’s company– I understand how Gothmog must have felt. 
Indeed, I held the selfsame position when my Father brought another Maia to him from the Halls. I was his Right Hand, and here was one who was to be his Left; a latecomer, a spoiled youngster, a threat to my place as apple of my Father’s eye. And he, Curunír, wasted no time in filling my seat when I defected. I can feel nothing but contempt for such an opportunistic worm…

But I do not waste much time thinking of betrayal, except as a theoretical precaution. Unlike the elves, my Master’s people have long been a united front.

I have always had Melkor’s favor. I am not anxious, nor jealous of the affections he reserves for others, for I hold a position that cannot be usurped.

…I suppose… in a purely hypothetical scenario, Langon the Herald would be my greatest threat, were he to conspire against me. He has not only Melkor’s ear, but a position of utmost trust. He could weave a web of suspicion around me that might be enough to threaten my tenure, for our lord has had… increasing fits of paranoia in the recent ages. It might be possible to convince him that I… 

But no. No.  

The herald and I share an understanding, and my Master knows I am pledged to him until all is Unmade. I am his until Time unravels, and after. He knows this. He must know. 

Patreon Reward: Herald’s Gift– RivkaZ 2015

image

A poet from Down Under bred,
Magnificent, from toe to head!
Their mighty pen the sword did fear,
Their words did many a heart endear!
Who could an army with wit forestall?
Who with their brain full epics recall?
Bright, befreckled, and red of head,
“Ril! Ril!” by all was said.

Cheers to my excellent and generous patron! ❤ Thank you endlessly for your continued support, ingenuity, and enThûsiasm! 

@heraldofmelkor

heraldofmelkor:

||For Wesley’s #SilmSelfiePrompt, have the mun freezing zir hand off contemplating some ice?

Bless you for finding ice in your inhospitable and baking country

What yon pale and shimmering visage appears upon my dash– a fey immortal being? Ah! ‘Tis Langon-mun in their fair splendor, making the Feanorians jealous again.

Show Me, Master, what you truly think of me?

You are one whose loyalty I have never doubted, even in the depths of suspicion to which I fell; one I trust as I would my own flesh, as all that was beautiful and terrible in the frost of my creation. One in whom I feel both pride and confidence.  A work of excellence, enduring, though fragile enough that I fear for you. I think you are one who I will see at the end of time, waiting to be extinguished with me– and if I feel at that time no bitterness towards my own demise, I will surely know it for yours: the last beautiful thing of my making the Valar can take from me. 

______

and then there’s this

ah hell yes  

heraldofmelkor: 

To my Master,
I miss you. How I have wandered, seeking places where the power still lingered in this world, gathering strength to wrap this missive in my will and cast it beyond the world.
For my powerful voice I was named — I only hope it is strong enough for this call to reach even beyond the Doors of Night.
I do not forget. I linger and wait for you. Until the end, I will wait for you.
To you in this casting-out of thought, hoping to reach you, I offer in the vessel of my will the sensations of this world, in hopes that their memory can even for a moment ease the emptiness.
I miss you. I love you. You are everything to me even now.
-Langon

A crack formed in the dry ice, silent in the Void.
For a moment, he could remember what cold felt like; standing at the top of the highest peak at precisely the altitude where blood would freeze, thin air broken by knife-whistling winds and the dark bowl of the sky spinning around him; all white, all frozen, all his.   

And for a moment after that he recalled the thaw of rock, magma dripping tar-thick into the ocean, boiling and spitting steam plumes, white hot, far above. 

What remained of him shivered, ribs filled with nothing, as the echoes of sensation rang fainter and fainter through his bones, in the dark, in the emptiness. 

He did not know for how long his servants would continue to send their parcels of feeling and thought, knowing their only reward would be a mirage of hope, and unchanging silence. 
There was nothing to mark the passage of time in the Void; he knew that ages would pass below and he would have no sense of it, and even maiar fade. 

Whenever the messages stopped coming, it would be too soon. 

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