Lihan Taifun
The demon squats irritably on a rocky hilltop, safely above the splashing of the waves of the sea. For the eons of his existence in this world, he has revelled in his power. Few beings of the puny created races have ever stood up to one of his kind, and none lived to tell of the encounter. Yet now he finds himself doubly frustrated, under the command of a creature who should by rights have no power over him at all, and stymied to fulfill what should be a simple assignment. Petulent sparks jump from his flanks and fall to the ground, where they fizzle impotently against the rock.
One puzzle was how that tiny created being had managed to summon and bind him. The Dark Master had given him his secret name of power, long ago, at the beginning of the world, when he had left another life and another name to serve the Mighty One. If the one who had bound him knew that name that only the Dark One knew, that suggests that the Dark One might somehow be involved. Could this be true, after his meddling brethren had banished him from this earth ages ago? Those thought have chased their tails through his mind, ever since he had been summoned, and he is no closer to unravelling the truth of the matter.
That leaves him with the practical problem, equally galling. The puny little worshiper of His Dark Majesty HAD managed to summon him, and place a geas on him. Try as he might to ignore the spell, he has found the compulsion relentlessly nagging at his mind, giving him no peace, constantly undermining his concentration on other matters. "Spread chaos, pain and destruction across the lands, starting in Alqualondë. Then seek out that which is called the Undying Lands." Chaos, pain and destruction he enjoys. He would be pleased with the damage he had already caused, if the geas would allow him. But no, his recent visit to the islands and coastlands was tainted by the incessant reminder that he had not yet fulfilled his orders.
The problem is that this Alqualondë is an island, and far out to sea. Hovering above a battlefield is one thing; flying to a distant island is -- here on this remote hilltop, alone, he dares to admit to himself -- flying that many leagues is quite beyond the abilities of this body, however strong and impervious it might be in battle, and however intimidating it might look. As long as he is facing unpleasant truths -- and a being of his superior intellect would be a fool to ignore truth -- he should admit that he is uncomfortable with that much ocean. As a demon of fire, he has no use for water. The thought of leagues and leagues of water make his stony skin crawl. And all that water is the province of a particularly unsavory Vala brother of his Dark Master. Yet across that water was where the geas is inexorably urging him to go.
He picks up a stone, holding it in his hand until it is red-hot, and then lobs it out into the waves below, where it causes an explosion of steam. But he is no closer to resolving his dilemma.
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One puzzle was how that tiny created being had managed to summon and bind him. The Dark Master had given him his secret name of power, long ago, at the beginning of the world, when he had left another life and another name to serve the Mighty One. If the one who had bound him knew that name that only the Dark One knew, that suggests that the Dark One might somehow be involved. Could this be true, after his meddling brethren had banished him from this earth ages ago? Those thought have chased their tails through his mind, ever since he had been summoned, and he is no closer to unravelling the truth of the matter.
That leaves him with the practical problem, equally galling. The puny little worshiper of His Dark Majesty HAD managed to summon him, and place a geas on him. Try as he might to ignore the spell, he has found the compulsion relentlessly nagging at his mind, giving him no peace, constantly undermining his concentration on other matters. "Spread chaos, pain and destruction across the lands, starting in Alqualondë. Then seek out that which is called the Undying Lands." Chaos, pain and destruction he enjoys. He would be pleased with the damage he had already caused, if the geas would allow him. But no, his recent visit to the islands and coastlands was tainted by the incessant reminder that he had not yet fulfilled his orders.
The problem is that this Alqualondë is an island, and far out to sea. Hovering above a battlefield is one thing; flying to a distant island is -- here on this remote hilltop, alone, he dares to admit to himself -- flying that many leagues is quite beyond the abilities of this body, however strong and impervious it might be in battle, and however intimidating it might look. As long as he is facing unpleasant truths -- and a being of his superior intellect would be a fool to ignore truth -- he should admit that he is uncomfortable with that much ocean. As a demon of fire, he has no use for water. The thought of leagues and leagues of water make his stony skin crawl. And all that water is the province of a particularly unsavory Vala brother of his Dark Master. Yet across that water was where the geas is inexorably urging him to go.
He picks up a stone, holding it in his hand until it is red-hot, and then lobs it out into the waves below, where it causes an explosion of steam. But he is no closer to resolving his dilemma.
> Next