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[10 Aug 2005|09:30pm] |
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mood |
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 drunk |
] |
*out of hobbit earshot, hopefully* What a tiny place. Still, more comfortable than a tree. Having solid earth around one is...helpful to my rest. *smiles at Curufin* Don't you find it so?
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[29 Jul 2005|09:10pm] |
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mood |
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 moody |
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The tiny-person town is surprisingly well-developed, with excellent infrastructure. As compared to my grandson's ex-realm. He has much to learn about putting the evil wilderness under the harness of civilization.
I'm interested in seeing this tiny-person smithy. I would have loved it as a child. Well, if not for the evil blondes that are at this moment still plotting against me. But I've dealt with that all my life, so...
I still wish I could meet the metal road lady. She sounds -fascinating-.
*stops mentally soliloquizing, glances behind at his grandson* I asked you a question, Tyelperinquar. *friendly tone that doesn't fool anybody*
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[11 Jul 2005|09:19am] |
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mood |
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 embarrassed |
] |
This damn river is too wide to cross.
How embarassing.
I've lost -so- much time. I've had to backtrack upstream and there's no civilization. Nothing. Maybe there's a bridge further up. This place needs at least a score of good Noldor civil engineers. It's all wild and ugly and horrible and I hate it.
When I find my descendents, we'll build a goddamn bridge over this thing. Or dam it. Or both. The river will regret thwarting me, oh yes...
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[23 Jun 2005|05:11pm] |
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mood |
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trying to be patient |
] |
| [ |
music |
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evil plotting |
] |
My descendants are frustrating.
Let Tyelperinquar run for a while. He'll come back to me. He won't be able to help it. He knows that he cannot improve his craft further...unless he learns from me.
And let's just not talk about Curufinwe-my-son right now, OK?
I'll easily make this Shire in a week or two. Let him simmer until then. Talking remotely is so...limiting..
*malicious smile*
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[12 Jun 2005|06:18pm] |
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mood |
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aggressively paranoid |
] |
*rides at a steady pace along the riverbed, glad the flood from when he released the dam has cleared it slightly and that he properly shoed his horse before he left*
*sees a flash of movement through the trees and feels his horse begin to get nervous* Hmm.
*reins in and hears more movement all around him* Damn. *as a howl goes up* Nauro!
I can't trust this useless mortal horse in combat. *dismounts and draws his sword that he managed to get back from Maedhros a few years back*
Right. Come get some.
*half a dozen dead wargs and one dead horse later, cackles triumphantly as the remainder of the pack scatters*
The sad thing is that I may well go faster without the horse. I'm over a third of the way through to the road maybe. I imagine the werewolves might return if I make myself vulnerable by resting.
...
Well, I am Eldar. I can do this. At least, I certainly hope so..
*tilts head* But what's this? Tyelperinquar is moving. *sketches out vectors on the ground* Not quite towards me, but close enough. If only I knew where my son actually is! Still, this helps a little. Making for the road seems like it may be a waste of my time. Damn it, I hate bushwhacking.
Why is he moving now, though? Has my son reached him? Are they now allied against me? I need to know.
*climbs a tree to give himself a measure of safety, then reaches out and twists the spell, insinuating his spirit partially into Tyelperinquar's body*
Ah....*closes his eyes and sees through Tyelperinquar's, seeing....scenery*
*frustrated* Not useful enough. *tries to 'tune in' further, knowing this will likely alert his grandson to the fact that something's wrong but too impatient to care*
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[10 Jun 2005|10:24pm] |
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*pours himself furiously into his work to distract himself after a disturbing conversation with his son*
There.
All done, and working better than ever. I've even done some quick and dirty mending on the doors themselves to fix a few gouges. And the new anti-vandalism spell is absolutely beautiful if very quick and dirty. I can't have anybody disturbing the anchor for the spell.
I'm going to have to get some actual feed for the horse soon - he's looking very sad about surviving on forage. *gently tests the spell to discern Celebrimbor's location more exactly*
Hmm. West-Northwest, around three hundred miles. The last road I saw would be about...two hundred miles west, but it seemed to go in the right direction. This will take some time. Though if I had my Valinorean horse I could make it there in less than five days.
Should I show Tyelperinquar what I have done before then?
Maybe. I grow impatient. But perhaps not now. I am not focused enough.
I cannot allow my son to affect me like this.
A good ride will probably settle my mind to some extent. Even if it's through these blasted hollies. For an realm that was allegedly Noldor at one point this place is remarkably lacking in basic infrastructure.
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[09 Jun 2005|08:15pm] |
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How?
I did not think my son had the power to frusterate me in my aims. Perhaps he had some sort of help? Or maybe Tyelperinquar's power reached him, rather than the other way around. Perhaps that is why my grandson failed so easily, his mewling cries for help. No endurance.
My son...he is not with Tyelperinquar, I know that much.
My recuperation is proceeding well. I spent more energy than I intended dealing with both of them. As light activity I am finishing my repair of the doors. The spell binding me to Celebrimbor is already set in the letters, so I only have to integrate the rest of the inlay back into the door spell. Fairly easy.
The original alloy has some strange properties, though. I've saved a small amount to examine when I have a better workshop. I am held back now to an extent by my reliance on inferior jury-rigged tools.
The magic is holding. I can tell where he is now. North, and west. Not quite as far as my last workshop. I will be able to find him.
But where is my son? He has betrayed the names his parents gave him, so I will not use them. If he only stays near a fire long enough I may be able to discern something...
I dislike being crossed. I will not tolerate this.
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[09 Jun 2005|12:08am] |
Hmm. Well, that didn't quite go as planned.
*lies on the ground, very tired* I think the spell took - or most of it. He wasn't strong enough in the end for me to place the last geas on him, and he lacks the strength of will and frankly the brilliance to truly understand and rule fire.
His spirit might have escaped me though, in that moment. That cannot be allowed to happen.
I'll have to...demonstrate another time, though. That took...far too much effort.
Damn my son, anyway, for interfering. I wonder what leads him to turn against me. Jealousy, I think, that I see more potential in his son than in him. He was always unwilling to accept his limitations.
Yet even he has his uses.
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[03 Jun 2005|10:53am] |
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Due to my fortitious habit of being in love with the sound of my own voice thinking out loud regarding the mystery consonants, I've finally found the password.
Which begs the question - what kind of idiot writes the password on the door?!
Still haven't found out what the stupid inscription actually says, but it doesn't matter now.
The doors are cunningly weighted, so I've "convinced" one off its hinges so I'm not trapped inside. The lake is filling up again nicely and much cleaner. Not that it -quite- has hinges - the rock is awake, and much of that is due to its own movement as a response to stimuli. I'm Noldor, though. The rock will listen to me, and obey given enough time and appropriate persuasion.
But Celebrimbor didn't carve the -rock-, I've become certain.
I've scrounged up a quite decent forge from behind the doors, and some copper. It will have to do.
*strokes the rock, convincing it to show the thin wiry inlay, and then, with greater effort, to expel it* Excellent. *collects the thin metal outline-fragments carefully and brings them inside to the roaring forge*
He'll feel this.
*begins the slow process of melting down the letters, while keeping Celebrimbor's magic still tightly bound to them*
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| More Bloody Sindarin |
[27 May 2005|09:14pm] |
The other voice said his name was Celebrimbor.
...Ah. Using that as a key...hmmm, the ando is not modified like the second umbar, so given the demonstration of two forms of umbar it must be a certain sound not found on its own in Quenya. Discarding the middle vowel on the first line, as it seems entirely decorative, that gives me...
en*r d*rir *r*r vori* pedo vellon * vino
iv r*rmpi h#r eh*nt : celebrimbor o erengion t#þ*nt i þiw hir
By association with the tengwa around the outside, "d*rir" and "r*rmpi" would be proper names, though the second seems quite strange. There doesn't seem to be a consistant rule for the usage of ore and romen in the inscription, so perhaps they signify different sounds.
...
Well, I'll think about it while I rebuild the dam properly. The smell has become quite overpowering.
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| Now, about those Doors... |
[26 May 2005|03:24pm] |
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mood |
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@#&*!$ sindarin |
] |
The Sylvan elves speak to trees, I hear, and the Vanyar to air. But the earth calls to the Noldor, and a cunning craftsman can awaken it like the first elves awakened the trees, and bend it to his will. The stone here is awake, and it listens. For a password, I imagine.
*whispers a few words* That should reveal the inlay, though stone moves...slowly. It needs to part around where it is sheathing the metal...yes, there it goes. Though the inlay is broken and missing in places and....interesting. That must be an alloy of true-silver. I'm not familiar with it.
Unfortunately, it should be repaired...and I do not have any extra true-silver to add to bring it up to volume. I'll have to adulterate it when I take the doors apart.
But what does it -say-? I never bothered to learn any of the dark-elven tongues. They're boring, and Quenya is far superior. Hmm.
It's missing tehta - how annoying. I hear the Sindarin have all sorts of strange vowels. Not to mention lenition from hell. Well, I am not the premier linguist of all time for nothing...
Let's see...around the edge, single letters calma, ore, ando. Lamp, heart, gate. Might be a riddle. Or maybe a signature, but there's no tinco for Tyelperinquar. It's how he always used to sign...
*reads*
*n*r nd*r*r *r*r v*r** * p*nd* v*ll*n * v*n*
*v r*rmp* h#r *h*(t) : c*l*mbr*(mb)*r * *r*ng**n t#þ*(t) * þ*w h*r
...
Okay, this might take a while.
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| gratuitous civil engineering |
[23 May 2005|11:38pm] |
The stones are speaking. In recognization.
They do not remember me, though, even if they think they do. They remember...Tyelperinquar?
How interesting...
*walks up a nearly dry river bed, listening to the rock*
Here and....hmm! *stares in dismay at dam and very large scummy evil-looking lake blocking the path.
I suppose I could leave the horse and go around the edge. It would require me to get in the water, though. There doesn't seem to be anything there but...eugh.
Hmm. *eyes the dam* Sloppy work, and structurally unsound. If I start -here-...
*several hours later, watches in satisfaction as the Stair Falls flow again and the lake begins slowly to drain* Much better. Even if the smell is truly foul.
*picks his way around the edge of the lake, stopping at an area where a large amount of debris has been cleared recently and two dead holly trees are rooted in the earth*
I smell silver. *walks slowly up to the wall, tracing an invisible inlay* Interesting work, here, though badly damaged. And this is tengwar, unless I miss my guess. Not written in any sane mode. Must be one of the barbaric dark-elven tongues.
This is your work, son of my son, traitor to your people. *sighs* I'll take a better look at it later.
*cuts wood from the dead trees and lights a fire, watching as the waters slowly recede to reveal a truly astonishing number of gnawed corpses (mostly dwarves) on the lake bottom*
... Perhaps I should rebuild the dam when I leave. This is even worse. At least the foul water will be flushed out in a few days.
*gazes deeply into the fire, mind elsewhere* I smell....sugar?
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[17 May 2005|01:10pm] |
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There is a fierce joy in the chase...
It has taken me to many strange places...but now I am back in the North of the world.
Hunting...and I sense certain of my treacherous scions are here before me, forgetting their sacred duty.
They belong to me. None of them can escape my shadow.
I ride into these flammable lands of Eriador on a stolen horse.
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[22 Feb 2004|03:31pm] |
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mood |
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 distressed |
] |
My wife is back >.> And I seem to have acquired an extra son that I definitely don't remember. Either that or the bitch cheated on me with Ingwe like I always suspected...
*cuddles his precious silmaril in allegedly godproof island stronghold* *wonders if he can wifeproof it*
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| ... |
[21 Sep 2003|10:43pm] |
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mood |
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stressed |
] |
can't sleep, spiders will eat me
can't sleep, spiders will eat me.
can't sleep, spiders will eat her!
*shivers, clutches his silmaril-girl closer*
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| gfdfjerdfsjYAY |
[01 Sep 2003|06:14pm] |
Courtesy of my otherwise good-for-nothing second son, I now have a basilisk.
I have fitted him with niFty goggles made of mithril and of elven-glass, as per the Evil Overlord List, so he doesn't kill any intruders accidentally, only stun them. I have made my own precautions against getting stunned.
This basilisk is of the Harry Potter variety, so it also will scare off any spiders that are not Her Evilness. Any spider that gets past him will be automatically assumed to be Her Evilness and treated accordingly.
*grudgingly takes Maglor off bounty list*
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| Hmmm. |
[08 Aug 2003|07:33pm] |
I want a basilisk.
Indulge me.
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| *clears throat* |
[20 Jun 2003|04:16pm] |
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mood |
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pissed off |
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music |
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Yarquesse angsting |
] |
I have an announcement to make.
I have been neglected by the vast majority of my children for Fathers Day. This distresses me. Therefore, I am hiring bounty hunters to track them down.
Anyone who brings me Maglor, Celegorm, Caranthir, Amras, or Amrod (originals preferred, but clones will do in a pinch), dead or alive, will have my material gratitude and will avoid being the first against the wall when the revolution comes. Also they will get the opportunity to admire my gorgeous hair.
I will be staying at Himring for the concievable future, 'setting up shop', as it were, with by beloved jewels. Any questions? Good.
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[15 Jun 2003|02:09pm] |
To my father, who still loves me best, I've sent a large supply of oysters and caviar via the ship I'm sending back to Olwe. Hope they get there in time. Also a surprise or two :)
Now, as for -my- boys...
There's seven of you, and you aren't good for much else but gifts. I'll be waiting expectantly. Do not disappoint me.
*strokes Yarquesse*
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curufinwe's journal
restless