‘you say it,’ said morgoth. ‘i am the elder king: melkor, first and mightiest of all the valar, who was before the world, and made it. the shadow of my purpose lies upon arda, and all that is in it bends slowly and surely to my will. but upon all whom you love my thought shall weigh as a cloud of doom, and it shall bring them down into darkness and despair. wherever they go, evil shall arise. whenever they speak, their words shall bring ill counsel. whatsoever they do shall turn against them. they shall die without hope, cursing both life and death.’
; three rings for the elven kings under the sky. seven for the dwarf lords in their halls of stone. nine for mortal men doomed to die. one for the dark lord on his dark throne.
My wife: hey, I can’t fall asleep. Can you do the thing again?
Me: yeah sure. where did I leave off last night? oh right, so my theory is that the One Ring gives you an asymptotic relationship with death, where you are constantly approaching but can never reach-
And hey, as long as I’m expanding upon Celebrimbor’s history:
After he returns to life, he never wears his hair in intricate braids again. He can’t leave it down either, for Related Reasons, and so wears it in a single thick braid down the back. It’s a shockingly plain style by Amanyar standards. Severe. Almost ascetic.
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