Dedicated to John, the sweetest loveliest guy who was ever hacked by a complete loser. And Alex, because he’s been sick. I mean ill. Oh, whatever.
Dirty weekend with Elrond turned sour when I told him purple was not his color.
Have been marched against by last alliance of men and nancing elves. Is transparent attempt by Elrond to get back at me for comment about purple. I will not take it back! I told him purple made him look like an eggplant, and it does. Is no need for him to get so shirty about it.
Is not that being defeated by last alliance is so bad, is not even that being reduced to a disembodied eyeball is so bad, although Visine would be a comfort. But whose bright idea was it to slice onions in here?
Blast those orcs and their fondness for onion dip. Have taken their disco ball away. God, it's fun to be evil.
Day Three Million Five:
Am bored. Have been waiting for Middle-Earthlink guy to come and install DSL in Barad-Dur since second-age. Will use palantir as alternative to personal ads, as am lonely.
Day Three Million Seven:
I spy with my big-huge-nasty-flaming eye...something resembling a novelty dashboard ornament. Witch King of Angmar tells me it's a hobbit. Is rather cute. On the smallish side, but I'm hardly one to talk appearances these days.
Day Three Million Nine:
ARGH! That tiny bloke has MY RING!
Have sent the nine to fetch ring back. If nine succeeds in sorting their elbows from asshats, that is.
Day Three Million Eleven:
Have met v. nice bloke over the palantir. An older gent, seems to have copied hairstyle from Galadriel, but no matter. He likes me for me. Finally someone to see past the eyeball. Will send him packet of glittery barrettes.
Day Three Million Thirteen:
Tried to ask Saruman over for dinner, but lost nerve at last moment and said some idiotic thing about building an army instead. Is somewhat amusing watching him play violin for orcs and goblin men in attempt to spark romance, so will not clear up confusion just yet.
Day Three Million Sixteen:
Wonder if Saruman becoming somewhat deaf? Told him I was hoping we could delineate boundaries of relationship, instead he defoliated Isengard.
Day Three Million Twenty:
Some bearded tart with pointy hat trying to horn in on my action. Hmmm. Ex-boyfriend?
Think Saruman may have put him in guest bedroom. Will have to ask S. to clarify.
Day Three Million Twenty-One:
Elrond having another of his disastrous parties. Why was not invited?
Just because have no body and cannot play twister with Legolas is no reason to snub me.
Day Three Million Twenty-Two:
Have been watching Fellowship through palantir. Ringbearer really v. pretty, I must admit, with big soulful eyes and little hairy feet. What I wouldn't give for a body and a shower-cap right now. Although bath-obsessed hobbit companion would probably kill me if I tried anything.
Day Three Million Twenty-Three:
Bored bored bored, so caught up on palantir-watching today. Lovely place, Moria, used to vacation there. Pointy-hatted ex-bf seemed nervous; sent word to Bob to keep an eye out. I mean a look out. I mean... oh bugger.
Day Three Million Twenty-Four:
No word back from Bob. Suspect he is moping. Never could sort out his love life. Always whining and writing in his journal. Bloody sensitive demon types, no use at all.
Day Three Million Twenty-Five:
Pointy hatted ex fell into shadow. Down with the competition! Ringbearer moping. Suspect Aragorn son of Arathorn might like to have a go at cheering him up. Apparently something of a pervy hobbit-fancier. So that’s why the blood of Numenor died out.
Day Three Million Twenty-Six:
Fellowship in Lothlorien. Oh god, Galadriel Galadriel Galadriel. It's always about HER. Paint my toenails, Sauron. Don't touch my hair, Sauron. I want a pretty ring, Sauron. Then she goes off with slabbish oaf Celeborn. Bet HE cannot forge twenty rings of Power.
Suspect bitch-slap fight brewing between Galadriel and Legolas as to which of them can nance around better while holding water pitcher. Cannot help but roll my eye over this. Time to toss some Jiffy Pop into Mount Doom and watch the fireworks.
Well, would you look at that dwarf getting it on with Celeborn. I tell you, three Million years on Middle-Earth and some things still surprise me.
Day Three Million Twenty-Nine:
Finally some decent fighting. Orcs killed : four hundred, v. bad. Humans killed : one. Go Uruk-Hai!
Is it just me, or is Aragorn son of Arathorn kinda gay?
Maybe is just me.
This may be the last diary – I really need to get back to working on FictionAlley, a wonderful site run by lovely people, which I have horribly neglected lately. (If you've enjoyed reading these as much as I've enjoyed writing them, please make my day and
vote here for FA – they let you vote once a day so don’t worry if you already voted.) Whee! And thanks for liking the diaries so much -- it's been really fun. And course the diaries will be back in December, when TT comes out, and Sam gets to kill a whole bunch of new people when they try anything.