Wizards and all that! Orthanc for Rent?

[Ult]

Orthanc had been abandoned for years. No one really lived there anymore. The doors were cracking like hell...there seemed to be orcs running around at times, well sometimes, but no one would trouble them...so Orthanc was as it was...but silent. But sometimes...in the dark of night a light would be lit, somewhere up in the Tower. Birds would fly away suddenly, and it would be quiet again. But then after a while a few floors below, another light would be lit... and again birds and mice would start to run away. Even once a Kamikaze rat dove down fromt he 7th floor...and survived. But he had no offspring ever after...

And then suddenly...


(OoC: this doesn't have to be serious. I don't know how many wizards will find their way, and since they are homeless, I suppose Rohan will have to do. I'll see where this will go!)

[Rowena Ellenweorc]

(Is this supposed to be an IC thread? Just checking. This thread should turn into the Isengard pub of old-- what was that called?)

[Ult]

(Is this supposed to be an IC thread? Just checking. This thread should turn into the Isengard pub of old-- what was that called?)

(Hopefully... I dunno if there will be wizzies at all...I hope some will find their way back, and then we'll see)

[Ult]

Ult was dragging a keg of Old Grishnak with him: "Oh my, that was not difficult with that South Umbaran. Once I gave him one of those blue balls it was a piece of cake. He wanted to sell me his mother, his wife and his holy goat. Man, I haven't seen a holy goat from Umbar in years!" Ult stopped and mumbled on. "In matter of fact I haven't seen anyone in ages!. I was really getting crazy of all those trees. All what they were saying was Hoom! Hoom!"
Ult pushed the great door of Orthanc open and before him was a dusty entry hall. Light was coming from above, and water trickled down the stairs. "Now, where did I leave that key...I mean someone needs to open this place when someone shows up".

[Pallador]

Pall stopped in to try and get the place cleaned up and presentable. “By Gandalf’s beard Ult! This place is a mess! Probably hasn’t been swept out in an Age! Here, take this broom and let’s get to work! I’ll go start washing the dishes. The sink is full!”

[Ult]

Ult heard someone talking...."OMG...voices, I hear voices...!" Ult looked around...He did hear something. It had been silent for decades and apart from a casual young South-Umbaran...eh lady that would happen to be around and drop by on occasion to have lenghty discussions about lore and, eh...very sophisticated wizzie things, such as, eh... reading books together and playing...a card game, there was really no one who had been in the tower for a long time. And now he had heard voices. Loud and clear! He was about to open THAT door, and then he turned around and then saw clearly a ghost who had returned from the Undying Lands, but pretty much alive and kicking...and doing the dishes!

[Lirimaer]

Earane Ancalime

She came in through the door in trepidation. Outside, the weeds were particularly virulent, and she had no great hopes for the inside, but she could hear ... something, and strangely it wasn't the water cascading merrily down the stairs. Glancing upward in consternation, she was suddenly distracted by the noise of clinking pottery.

Who was in the kitchen, washing up? Were there Dwarves here? But no, no singing, it must be some other socially-minded creature.

She spied a high shelf on the wall and tossed her hat up onto it, leaning her staff against the wall, before heading toward the kitchen where she found two wizards.

"Ho, friends!" she called. "Shall I come back when you've got it cleaned up?"

[Ult]

Ult felt backwards when he heard suddenly someone raise his voice. Startled, he bumped his head against an overhanging loose piece of wood, and it projected a large loose stone up in the air. The stone hit the ceiling and several pieces of wood came loose. After the pieces started coming loose, the ceiling started to bend over and a very large cupboard on the floor above was slowly edging to a large hole and...came suddenly down with a hard thud on the floor of the kitchen... just in between Ult and the newcomer that had just arrived. Ult wiped the dust of his face, tried to shove away the cupboard that had broken in many pieces...and said: "My oh my...who do we have here!"Looking first in the direction of the ghostly wizard who was still doing undisturbed the dishes, and the newcomer he said: "I haven't seen anyone here since decades...and look here, there's two of you, and..." Then the cupboard turned over and barely missing Ult: "Ears...Pall"!...so glad to see you. I can't find the key of the Pub!"

[Pallador]

Pall reached into the sleeve of his robe and pulled out a huge key. “Is this what you’re looking for? I’ve had it on a chain, wearing it around my neck for the last half-Age. Something told me to hang onto it. Here, see if this opens anything.”

[Lirimaer]

Earane Ancalime

Clearly, there was Mischief Afoot. Ult was standing - just - and what was that Pall was waving around? Hey - that looked familiar!

"Isn't that the key to the pantry?"

"Ult, have you misplaced your marbles? The pub is hardly the most pressing need ..." but then she trailed off, glancing round the shambolic monument. The only thing not covered in dust and broken wood was a keg of Old Grishnak.

"No, you're absolutely right, I need a drink!" she announced. A goblet of severely battered pewter was near her feet, and she picked it up, dusted it on her sleeve and held it out for him to fill. "You might as well tap that keg," she remarked. "Clearly we're going to be here for a while!"

[Ult]

"Why didn't you say so, Pall! It means we can get back to business. I've got ale..."*points to the keg of Old Grishnak" "There's a good old friend" ... points to Pall..."and most important there's at least a woman! I mean we do need the ladies to get this pub going!"
Before Ears will give Ult a bad look he adds: "I mean there were somewomen here in the past...who could drink any dwarf under the able!" He turns to Ears and asks: "Where have you been? I mean, I've been staying in the Fangorn wood, and sometimes I walked alone through this tower, but I never saw anyone. Did anything happen in the outside world? Ult turns to Pall: "I mean, it's not the infamous Holy Goat of Umbar who is about to do his dirty tricks, is he? Last time I heard of him he said he was swallowing fermented toad juice, because it was said it prevented you having too many burps. I heard he was shouting it through the Palantir that everyone should use fermented toad juice, and all burping problems would be gone. You can expect anything from Holy Goat". Ult took the pewter from Ears and asked: "So we gonna pass that pewter around, because I really don't know if anywhere more can be found?"

[Pallador]

Ult, really, Unholy Goat is more true to his nature. The tale I heard was that he, or it, or whatever was last seen with two young lady Wizzies. He was plying them with unlikely stories of his past deeds, attempting to lead them astray.

[Lirimaer]

Earane Ancalime

Perhaps these two were already on the sauce. Or maybe the Old Grishnak was a little too fermented? She took the goblet back from Ult before he stole it.

"Pall is washing up!" she pointed. "Did you think to check what he's washing up? Anyway, I'm sure half the cupboards must be full of goblets and glassware, Saruman liked a tipple ... did either of you check the cellars?"

[Pallador]

Cellar? Where do you think this keg came from? It was back in a corner under a chest full of old scrolls. Looks to have been there a while so I figure it’s pretty nicely fermented. Here, pour me a pint and let me check it out!

[Lirimaer]

Earane Ancalime

"If it was under a chest of old scrolls, that's not something I'm drinking!" she declared. "I'm done with month-long hangovers and not being able to feel my nose. You can have this though and good luck to you." She thrust the goblet at Pall.

"I'm going to find out why that water is pouring unceasingly downstairs. We never used to have plumbing ..." she muttered as she disappeared out into the hall, leaving only the echo of splashing footsteps as she made her way up to the first floor.

[Pallador]

Pall was getting a little bit frustrated. Confusion was one thing but addlepated was a wholly different matter. He wondered what Ult was up to. “My old friend! Ult! Come quickly! Bring a mop, one of those Fantasia self-mopping brands as well as a bucket or two. We really need to get this water mopped up if we expect to get anyone to visit. As it is, things are really a mess!

[Ult]

"Yes Pall, I'm coming but first this" Ult raises his pewter filled with old Grishnak ale and then says:
"One Old Grishnak Ale to rule them all
One dark ale to find them all
One dark ale to bring them all
and in darkness bind them!"
Ult downs his ale and then ask Ears: "So what have you been up to. Meeting nice maia in the Undying Lands." But somehow Ears must have missed that, since she was walking through the Hall. Ult said: "Do come back, the pub might open any day now."
Ult looks at his empty pewter and then adds: "I met Maia here, very pretty girl from Umbar, until she stole my last savings, and kicked me in the gut!" Ult stood up to help Pall..."Did you order those mops at Umbaran.com? Or did a new load of those things come in from Khand, where the labor is cheaper?"

[Pallador]

Pall gave a sidelong glance at Ult and grinned sheepishly. “Actually my friend I, I conjured them myself. That could be where things went wrong. I should have realized something was amiss when they wouldn’t stop mopping but I guess I got distracted. This Mordorian virus thing has really been on my mind.”

[Pallador]

(Ult, there’s a thread going in OOME, “Wizards and all that”. Started by ShEru

[Pallador]

*BTW, she’s still in her candle-spirit form, but I’m pretty sure she’ll be popping up as a Wizzie before too long!*

[Pallador]

All right all you sleepy Wizzies, up and at ‘em! Time to get this show on the road on this fine morning! Time to get posting! We have no guarantees that this site will be here for another day, another hour, or even another minute!

[KingODuckingham]

Ducky sniffed the air. There was a new scent upon the wind. It smelled like...change. Had someone returned to Orthanc?

Nah, upon reflection it smelled more like Grishnak ale. Now THAT was a reason to travel to Orthanc. Ducky just had to see (and taste) for himself, if there really was Grishnak ale at Isengard again. It had been years since Ducky had traveled so far west, but the haunts were familiar. People changed, but the land rarely did. Ducky bustled on, wishing he had a lordly horse, or even a nag to carry him. He crested a small hill, and all of Isengard came into view.

It was derelict, yes, but looked occupied. There was a light on, somewhere down there. The smell of ale was strong.

Ducky picked up the skirts of his robe and jogged faster. There could be a real party brewing. Ducky laughed to himself at his own joke.

When he came to the high tower, he slowed down nervously. He banged his staff on the door and called out, "Uhh, Trillian, is that you? Day, you there? Ult? Sea? Anybody?"

[Pallador]

*Pall yawned and rubbed the sleep from his eyes.*. Sorry KingO, but I’m afraid that the other folks are kinda being slugabeds this morning. Maybe if you tapped your staff kinda vigorously on that door there it might rouse someone. *Pall pointed to the dormitory room door*. Don’t be surprised if you get yelled at and possibly get something thrown at you though. There were some late-night hijinks going on!

[Ult]

Ult woke up and noticed the keg of Old Grishnak ale was empty almost. Things had be quiet for a while and although there had been a wizard spotted the other day (Ears) she seemed to have walked away, inspecting the tower. Ut looked around and noticed Pall who was clearly done with the dishes and asked: "Anyone else who...?" And then he noticed someone and Ult said: "My oh my...lok at that, another wizard (KingO) who found home..." Ult looked up and added: "Well if you can call this home? I dunno...what can we call it?" Suddenly a piece of stone dropped form the ceiling: "Look at the state the Tower is in! How can we ever get this Tower in shape again. We need a lot more wizzies to get that going."

[Pallador]

Everyone, rejoice! There was a situation going on that resulted in the need to kick this incarnation of our home in the butt, put jumper cables on it and give it a new surge of life. Kinda like Dr. Frankenwizard had to do when he created his monstrosity. But praise be to Eru it worked and now everything seems to be fine!

[Lirimaer]

Earane Ancalime

Upstairs, the noise of trickling water was more apparent, but the source of the water was harder to find. She searched her way through the first few storeys quite quickly, but then she started exploring the former rooms of long-departed wizzies - who clearly hadn't bothered with putting their stuff in storage as they went walkabout. One whole floor was dedicated to the storage of the the entire workshop of StarQuality Designs' robe emporium. Spools of coloured thread were stacked floor to ceiling in rainbow hues, and a giant loom, well, loomed over the centre of the room like the skeleton of a giant firedrake. The desk beside her held a small array of 'bespoke designs' which were technically one main design with an option on pockets and whether the hood was pointed, gathered or liripipe. She vaguely remembered getting one of these things, long long ago in the mists of time ... had it been blue? Was she still wearing it? She might be, but she couldn't remember. The dust was terrific though, and the water hadn't gotten in to this room, so she closed the door again and followed the waterfall up the next set of steps, sneezing madly.

In the henneth idhrin, the palantîr's plinth stood proud and empty; maybe that was for the best, she mused, moving on upwards.

Eventually, having travelled up three-quarters of the tower, she found a door with water gushing out from under it. She had no idea where all the water was coming from, but with the weight of the water behind it, she could not open it. Suddenly, a bright idea came to her - she would try a window!

Finding an adjacent room and breaking the lock, she managed to clamber over several kegs of dubious pedigree with CORSAIR FINEST stamped upon them, standing on one to reach the window. Climbing up onto the windowledge, she gripped gingerly onto Orthanc's uniquely ugly facade and tried not to look down. My it was high up here! ... and windy! Her cloak billowed unhelpfully, and she was glad to be wearing bloomers over her cross-gartered hose. She moved widdershins around the building, which was a feat of pure will, since this tower was not made for ease of movement, inside or out.

At this point the wind decided to be as unhelpful as possible, filled her cloak like a balloon and ripped her off the building, carrying her off toward Fangorn like a galleon in full sail. It was probably not the moment to be concentrating on the fact that she'd left both hat and staff in the tower, but it's all she could think of - well, and the rapidly approaching treetops.

[Pallador]

*Pall caught sight of what looked to be a Wizard’s robe blowing in the wind. He took out his little spyglass and saw that what it was was actually a robe with someone in it! The wind was carrying it off toward the Forest of Fangorn, and at a good clip too!* Ult, come and see! It’s a flying Wizard! Well, more like a Wizard being blown away!

[Ult]

Ult was looking in the direction Pall was pointing and whispered to himself: "It looks I'm in a different Palantir show!" He turned to Pall and asked: "What do you think....is that Maia Polykins flying up there in the sky?" Ult wondered if ever other wizzies would show up. It seems nothing could help them yet to come back from the Undying Lands. Not even the last Old Grishnak Ale he had saved up for this occasion. "So what do you think we should do...see if we can do a spell to get her back?" Ult looked puzzled..."We might as well start to wander around this place. We can always come back to see if anyone caught a ship back from into the West?"

[Pallador]

So where do you think we should go first? Since we’ve returned from The Undying Lands not much of this place has been explored. We don’t really have any idea just what has been happening while we’ve been in Valinor and Middle Earth always was a land filled with perils for the unwary. I’m all for setting out myself but a guide could be a very useful thing. Perhaps we should try to find a friendly guide, what do you think?

[Pallador]

*Ultchuk didn’t seem to be in a talkative mood, so Pall decided to take the initiative. He found the palantir and checked Middle Earth Online for any guides for Rohan. The listings were slim but one seemed promising.* Let me see. ”Grima’s the name! If I can’t lead you there and back again, nobody can!” Whaddaya say, Ult? Should I give this guy a call?

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Earane Ancalime

In the henneth idhrin, the palantîr's plinth stood proud and empty; maybe that was for the best, she mused, moving on upwards.

At this point the wind decided to be as unhelpful as possible, filled her cloak like a balloon and ripped her off the building, carrying her off toward Fangorn like a galleon in full sail.

The dragon stood where Earane Ancalime had once looked on an empty palantîr plinth, before unfortunately she was literally blown away. A kinder fate, no doubt, than whatever befell her two fellow wizards on arrival at Edoras. In any case, these passing wizards of old had long ago left these premises and Orthanc was once again to rent.

Oddly, all the water problems that had bothered those three of old had ceased entirely. The dragon mused on the way that the elements of water and wind had chased away those interlopers. He looked out of the window at the clement weather, a delightful early summer breeze with the scent of meadows with not a hint of rain. Clearly, a good omen.

The dragon was puzzled by the Elvish of the wind-blown Earane Ancalime. His own linguistic talents were rudimentary. He scratched his head and tried to recall his basic Sindarin: henneth idhrin 'window on the year'? The 'window' - henneth - made sense, but not the temporal reference.

O well, once again the languages distracted from basic spatial realities. What was the palantîr's plinth doing so low down in the tower? Had not Wormtongue hurled the Stone from a high window? Were not all the Stones of old set up in the very highest chambers of the towers? So why was the palantîr plinth down here?

As he suspected, this plinth was never intended to actually house the Stone of Orthanc. Inspection revealed that when the base was twisted twice widdershins the plinth opened up to allow access to an internal lever. The dragon took hold and pulled - and one of the great pillar bookshelves on the opposite wall swung slowly open to reveal a dark chasm behind.

Standing at the opening the dragon lit a torch that illuminated the workshop within. O yes! Just as he had hoped. This was the treasure that he had committed to finding when he had blythely offered the Supreme Goblin that a party from the Elostirion Library might rebuild the Dark Tower. When he had made the offer he had felt confident that the Library could deliver, but obviously such an ambitious construction project required the proper foundation. Our Lore Library needs the One Ring, and that was destroyed - melted in the fires of Mount Doom. So we need to make a new Ring. And here is where we begin.

Saruman's Ring-making workshop.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

The dragon was listening to songs sung long ago and pondering the patterns of the tea leaves, the chalk powder, and the privie.

Silarien, The Top Floor, XXVI HP

it is true after all, Silarien has kind of made a mess of the tower. Deep down, she feels a bit bad. No, wait. Is he trying to trick her? Trick her with his VOICE? She knows that the Istari have their gifts, right, but physically he doesn’t look all that much.

“Your tricks won’t work on me, Saruman!” she yells defiantly, running at him with blade out.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

This place is haunted. No question about that. Whether the ghosts are angry, hungry, or indifferent is hard to tell. But the dragon had never feared the dead - it was the living who gave him cold shivers. And before having a good look at the hidden Ring-making chamber, the point of this whole RL rigmarole, he felt it only wise to consider the wider security situation.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

So the basic geographical fact about Middle-earth is that mountain range that divides the map into three. In the North-West we have Eriador = Elf-friendly lands of old, realm of the Northern kingdom of old, location of Shire and Bree Hobbits in more modern times. The Misty Mountains separate Eriador from the lands of the adventure of Bilbo Baggins - Mirkwood and Dale and so on. The Great River crossed at the carrock to reach the house of Beorn was extended South to give us first the Golden Wood and then Rohan and Fangorn - at which point the mountain range breaks and then curves round to the East, dividing the North from the South. In the South of Middle-earth we have Gondor and Mordor.

What this means in practice is that the Gap of Rohan is essential to North-South trade and travel. The Mountains may be climbed over, but one who holds Orthanc controls the snows and the storms and the stone-giants of the mountains. The Mountains may be traversed within, through goblin tunnels or by way of the Mines of Moria. But the Goblins extract too high a toll. If the Dwarves organize themselves in Moria there will be an alternative road. Until then, one who controls the Gap of Rohan controls the trade of Middle-earth.

Obviously, the Gap of Rohan is in the control of the king of Rohan. But of all plaza kingdoms, Rohan is weakest. They have not even heard of the king in these parts.

From the point of view of Orthanc, Rohan is ready to fall. It will begin in the Edoras post office.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

The dragon was sitting on the very top of Orthanc, looking out on the view. South. So far as location went, Isengard did not seem a great place to build a Númenórean tower, not if it was view you wished for. Mountains behind, mountains to the East, mountains to the West. Good for controlling the weather in the mountains, was Orthanc. South was the only decent vista.

Presumably Orthanc was designed as a weather-control station that could double as a prisoner-in-the-topmost-chamber kind of tower, like Cirith Ungol and the one in which the dragon had done some porridge of his own only last year.

Chrysophylax Dives fell into reverie as memories of Dwarves bearing knitting-needles floated in and out of mind. He sighed once again over his very favourite button, long given up as lost forever. Were they still waiting for it to hatch? The dragon almost smiled.

He forced himself back into the present. That was the trouble with these towers. Too many memories, too much time for reflection. Nothing to do but look on the view. South, in this case.

Why was he sitting looking South when so much was still to be done downstairs? Only around one quarter of the books had been catalogued and the Librarian in Undertowers was growing impatient. Yet the dragon felt a warm glow of inner chuffedness. He greatly feared the displeasure of the Librarian of Undertowers, which was to him the second most terrible thing in the whole wide world. But even the quarter of the Orthanc library so far catalogued had revealed treasures unexpected and unlooked for. This time, when he returned to Elostirion, he felt confident that the Adamanta Chubb Librarian would at least grace him with a smile. It was what he lived for.

He had been worrying unduly. As an Elf from Rivendell, and the most venerable Old Lorist of the present day, the dragon had presumed that the more unsavoury items in the Orthanc Library would not have been permitted to pass the door of Elostirion. Quite the opposite, it seemed. The darker the lore the keener was the Librarian to get it into the tower and under lock and key.

Why was everything inside a mirror of its outside?

A Library is a place that stores knowledge and allows a public free access to that knowledge. Only it turns out that a Library is a place that stores knowledge and decides which part of that knowledge is accessed freely by the public. In other words, a Library is a place that guards hidden knowledge and keeps it secret, while presenting itself and used as its opposite.

Now, replace the Library with a choice metaphor, such as a palantír, and we have before us the great technical problem faced by the Lore Post Office in setting up working communication by Seeing Stone. Really, it is only going to work if on both sides of the communication the insides as well as the outsides are rendered mutually visible. And this is very difficult to achieve consensually because most people don't wish to show what is inside on the outside to another, not even their own selves, as the dragon had discovered.

The palantíri were the real deal. The world was bedazzled and befuddled by Rings of Power. The magic ring was the key to meaning, an image of a nameless name. The greatest picture you will never notice. But the Rings of Power? Derivative. The One Ring was just the magic ring turned inside-out through a Stone in a Tower. Rings of Power were no more than twisted mutations of palantíri.

Sss. What can a poor egg-burgler do? The folks don't hand over their hard-earned buttons for the real deal. They hand over their buttons because they lust for trinkets and baubles. Buttons for buttons. They hand over good buttons because they wish for magic buttons.

Yet the dragon had genuine Seeing Stones to sell on the doorstep. And they turned their noses up, unless he threw a brass button into the bargain. Well, it had taken some work to sell that brass button as a magic egg. But at least it had gained a little time. Sufficient time for the dragon egg to hatch, in broad daylight with nobody noticing.

That was just the way the world was. No point complaining just gotta work with it. The palantíri would be set up without anyone noticing what had happened. More invisible labour. But at some point it might be good to grab their attention. And then a Ring of Power would be just the thing to pull out of a pocket.

A Ring of Power required Two Towers. That was the thing. Two Stones in Two Towers, and the right spell.

Simple. If you knew the spell.

And had two towers to play with.

That was why the dragon spent so much time sitting on the roof of Orthanc gazing into the South. Far away, on the other side of the Fords of Isen, tucked into a northern flank of the Ered Nimrais, the White Mountains, was Helms Deep.

Within Helms Deep was the Tower of the Hornburg, built by the hands of giants long ago.

The Hornburg!

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Orthanc Diary

Do I really have to hand over all the books and manuscripts to the Adamanta Chubb Librarian? Deep down in his black heart the dragon knew the answer: He could keep no secrets from the Librarian. Were he to pocket even one little manuscript she would break him. Moreover, he was an egg- not a book-burglar, and had no wish to change profession. But what that meant was a lot of note taking, because the dragon wished to discover the secrets in the books for himself before handing them over to the Librarian.

Weary work. Blotched with ink stains, his clawed hand ached from clutching the goose feather for too long. But who could wish for more? Alone in the dark with only the light of some candles to illuminate secret knowledge hidden in strange marks by another, one whose ink-stained hand ached in a long ago. Whispers passing over a sea of time. You had to strain your ears to hear the sounds, and free your mind to catch a sense. When you did, well, if the other who was whispering really had something to say, then sometimes, just sometimes, you could hear the voices on the other side. Voices, not voice. Because the other of long ago with aching, inky fingers was not really talking to you, but another, and you have sat yourself down in a vacant chair as if you belonged at this conversation from another time. Do not deceive yourself. You are an interloper here. Those who spill secrets on a page need not begrudge the eavesdropper as yet unborn. Yet when you walk out again onto the green grass in the sunlight, do not speak too quickly. Guard your tongue.

Guarding secrets while serving as chief minion of the Librarian of Elostirion? For a long while the dragon had felt these two sides of his work at war with each other, but then the Adamanta Chubb Librarian had explained that a Library also guards its secrets. A cunning design: the public access to the books was a front, lending legitimacy to the various 'special collections' that the Library kept under lock and key. So now the dragon and the Librarian were working together. The last Lore admin of old, and her minion.

So the dragon was happy to hand over to Elostirion all of Saruman's Library; he just wanted to discover the hidden secrets for himself before doing so. And in this too he was performing his minion duties with proper professionalism. Because the deal at Elostirion was that the Librarian was responsible for the books, and decided who was allowed to access what, while the dragon was responsible for keeping the Grand Design of the Library secret from the Enemies of Lore. But the secrets discovered in Orthanc would for a certainty be utilized by the Library in the great War of the Kingdoms, and the dragon needed to be one step ahead of the game.

The dragon put down the fragile parchment and opened his own notebook. For the umpteenth time he scrutinized the page headed Plan B, wherein he had copied out a map of the kingdom post offices.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Orthanc Diary

Finally got round to inspecting Saruman's hidden Ring-making workshop. Was not in a great hurry because, obviously, the multi-coloured wizard failed. So it is not like any spare One Rings are going to have been left around.

Actually, I would not have bothered at all were it not for the gold. Saruman never worked it out. Clever fool. He was trying to mimic Sauron's technique - but that was beyond him, as likely it would be for most of us. But he still could have made a Ring had he worked out proper use of the Orthanc Stone - and got his hand on a second Stone-in-a-Tower.

But once the Hornburg in Helms Deep is aligned with Orthanc, and the hashmal between the two Stones is sparking, we are going to need some gold for the Ring itself.

And the only way to get gold on this Valar-forsaken earth of ours is... yup - the Dwarves. Who knows what they would ask in exchange for a small bucket of the stuff? And if they got wind of our Lore-in-Elostirion Ring-scheme they would hold out for far more. We would end up having to cede the Shire to the race of Durin, or allow them to mine the stones of Lothlórien.

But I breathe again. More than enough gold here for 20 Rings. In fact, I might use some of it to cast some new buttons. Hmmm. You know, what about a golden egg?

Could I really lay and hatch a golden egg? Not alone. Not if the golden egg is to hatch.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Orthanc Diary

The Hornburg is occupied!

The world is changing. Who now has the strength to stand against the post offices of Lore... and Helms Deep? To stand against the might of Orthanc and the Hornburg... and the union of the Two Towers? Together, my Mistress, O Dark Librarian, we shall rule this Middle-earth.



Meanwhile, the huorns have been busy helping me work the forge in Saruman's hidden Ring-making workshop, deep within Orthanc. I'm not interested in Rings right now - that can wait till winter. Right now eggs is turning critical.

Looks pretty nifty, eh? Unfortunately this is just a sketch. To make one of these babies is not easy, even with two or three trained huorns on hand - and they know a thing about eggs. Once sub-created the golden egg still needs to be fertilized - but that is a whole other story; worry about that when we get there. First, how to make this thing?

So far as I can make out from the annotations in Saruman's Lore books the deal is that a straight straw placed from inside and inserted outside, horizontally and not upwards, draws before our eyes a Time that is not outside of Time but is outside of our Time.

The straw allows a vision of the inside-out and the outside-in, only nobody guesses that is what they are looking at - well, how could one expect such a picture? So what you are looking at with one of these here golden eggs is not the physical surface that appears before your eyes but rather the sources of meaning of this physical surface - and there are two such sources, and they are quite different: one outside and the other inside-yet-outside.

In a nutshell, to oddly juxtapose 3-dimensional metaphors of concealment, to make this egg one needs to picture the egg from dimensions that give both a God's eye view (go up-and-outside) and from the hidden point of view of Valinor (out--beyond-the-horizon) while firing the furnaces of Orthanc, taking a great hammer of the Dwarves, and gently beating the physical gold into the perfect egg-shape.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Earane Ancalime
Who was in the kitchen, washing up? Were there Dwarves here? But no, no singing, it must be some other socially-minded creature.

That was the Huorns, who perform all the menial work in Orthanc these days. Did you have a long walk back from Fangorn, Earane Ancalime? It seems to have taken you a long time. I hope you were not injured by the trees? Don't fear our Huorns! They are not of Fangorn, and are hostile to the trees of Fangorn, whose wood they burn in the furnaces of Orthanc as together we conduct Ring-, Button-, and Egg-making experiments in Saruman's hidden workshop.

Anyway, I was wondering if you wished to rent a room in Orthanc? You could take a whole floor if you wish. Occupation comes with no obligation for communication - it would be nice to chat to a lodger on occasion, but really this tower is just so big and empty it would be nice to feel it was inhabited. Rent to be negotiated. Cheese is acceptable.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Success! That was hard work and I'd never have got the straws in the right place without Huorn help. The nest that the egg has been placed in was one of their touches. Unfortunately I lost two co-workers hammering this egg out over the weekend (one fell into the furnace and the other ate the first egg that we made, which did not agree with her).

Some people collect eggs like this just to keep them in cabinets. Rows of golden eggs sitting in little white egg-cups. They believe it makes them cultured and sophisticated and is a substitute for sub-creation. They are idiots. A golden egg in itself has zero use. What you want a golden egg for is to hatch it. Most folks don't like to think about the real uses of a golden egg. Not surprising, I guess, given what you have to do to get your egg on the way to hatching.

Anyway, on to stage 2. To hatch this beauty I need to suck out the brains of another through a straw and then blow their creative life-force into the egg. Not a problem. The ticklish bit is that the contribution must be voluntary. God really has absolutely nothing to do with this process, so obviously no god-moding is permissable.

Sigh. I suppose another trip to Mordor is called for.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

No bites in Mordor. A wasteland empty of Minions. Or at least, the Goblin Secretary is on permanent privy break after watching the rest vaporize before her eyes. Well, that is what the signs suggest. Grim work reading the signs of Mordor, like digging up Pompey and discovering people imprinted as shadows on the walls. Atomic bomb nightmares of the Roman world who appear to us as Goblins. Fair enough, I suppose. Must have been grim being of Mordor these last years, absent any real purpose of being. Self-vaporization called to the depths of their being, I guess. Yet theirs was a self-regarding choice in the end, absent any real consideration for others. No sign of a thought for those good folk of other kingdoms, or the minions of the Lore Post Office, who might look to these shadows of themselves for help hatching our eggs.

So where am I going to go now?

Elostirion? No Hobbits around these days and I have ethical problems with sucking out the brains of the Librarian and blowing her lifeforce into one of my golden eggs. It just would not feel right.

Khazad-dûm? Not on your nelly! The Dwarves would bash me round the head quick as you could say 'more tea, please!'

The Rangers? Unfortunately not possible as I have signed up to perpetual peace with the Ranger, and removal of brain by straw might be taken as breaking the peace. Doubly bad news, the peace with the Ranger entails also perpetual peace with the admins, so Morgoth is also out of bounds.

I guess I am going to have to take this egg to Lore.

[Arnyn]

The Rangers? Unfortunately not possible as I have signed up to perpetual peace with the Ranger, and removal of brain by straw might be taken as breaking the peace. Doubly bad news, the peace with the Ranger entails also perpetual peace with the admins, so Morgoth is also out of bounds.

Wise, dragon. Wise.

[Chrysophylax Dives]

Orthanc Diary

Sitting on the top of Orthanc, dangling my feet over the edge and looking into the South, I had a sudden thought. Could it be that readers do not wish for their brains to be sucked out of their skulls through the ear with a straw, nor wish for their life-force to be blown with the same straw into one of my eggs?

I'm now thinking back over the some of the less charitable complaints raised by some of my less forgiving readers and wondering if possibly they were not in fact as OK with the straw-use as I had presumed.

I may have to rethink my basic conception of readers.