Free Rings

3 for Elven-kings, 7 for Dwarf-lords, 9 for Mortal Men, all FREE

So Amazon announced the name of their Lord of the Ring series, and it’s The Rings of Power. So, presumably, it’s going to be about Sauron giving out the Rings of Power to elves, dwarves, and men. It’s just the way things are these days, you know they’re going to make it all woke and ignore everything Tolkein wrote and instead make the story about systematic racism towards orcs and the Ring of Power is going to be some heavy-handed metaphor about climate change or some nonsense and the whole thing is just going to make us want to vomit all over ourselves.

So, I’m thinking: I’m a Tolkien scholar. I’ve read The Lord of the Rings twice. I’ve seen the movies like five times (extended edition). I once forced my way through The Silmarillion. So I put together all my Tolkien knowledge and wrote my own version of how the gifting of the Ring of Power went. And I’m sure you can give this to any other Tolkein scholar and they’ll say it follows the known lore exactly. In the least, the scholar won’t vomit all over himself.

Enjoy.

---

King Duffinor had a long treacherous journey west past the Misty Mountains to the land of Eregion. Soon he saw his destination, though, as there was a long table about which were elves, dwarves, and men. Over the table was the banner “Free Rings.”

“Sweet!” Duffinor exclaimed as he got off his horse and ran to the table. At the table, looking very much to be in charge, stood a figure who appeared to be an elf but was even fairer. “So I heard there is this guy giving out awesome rings,” Duffinor said to him.

“Yes, we have rings of power for the mightiest of men,” said the fair elf.

“Cool. And they’re like totally free, right?” Duffinor asked. “There’s no hidden charge or anything?”

The fair elf smiled. “My gift to you.”

“So like who are you?” asked King Halindur who had ridden the journey with Duffinor.

The fair elf looked a little startled by the question. “My name is Saur... Steve. My name is Steve.”

“I thought you said your name was Annatar,” said an elf standing behind Steve.

“Steve Annatar is my name, Celebrimbor,” Steve replied to the elf. He looked back to Duffinor and Halindur. “But you can call me Steve.”

Duffinor stared at the rings. “Well, I think this is an awesome thing you’re doing, Steve.”

“But why are you giving everyone rings?” Halindur asked Steve.

“Because... I’m a really cool dude,” Steve answered.

“Steve is just an awesome guy giving out rings,” Duffinor said to Halindur. “Why do you have to pester him with so many questions?”

“I was just curious.”

“I thought you said you were a servant to the Valar,” Celebrimbor said to Steve.

“Yes, that’s right,” Steve stated. “I’m a really cool dude who comes at the behest of the Valar to make sure everyone has these mighty rings.”

Everyone murmured in amazement at the mention of the Valar.

“Yeah, he’s here on the behalf of the Valar,” Duffinor chided Halindur. “The Valar. Now, don’t you feel like an idiot for questioning him?”

“Who are the Valar?” Halindur asked.

“I don’t know,” Duffinor said. “But even the snooty elves were impressed by their mention, so they have to be loaded.”

“Yes,” Steve announced to everyone, “I have come specifically as a representative of Aulë to teach Celebrimbor the ways of ring making and give you all gifts.”

Again, the crowd murmured at the mention of Aulë, especially the dwarves.

Duffinor turned to Halindur. “You hear that? Aulë.”

“You don’t know who that is.”

“He’s obviously super important. Get with the program.” He turned to Steve. “So let’s get to handing out the rings.”

Steve smiled. “Yes, let’s do that.” He looked at the three elves standing in a group near the table. “I’m afraid I haven’t helped Celebrimbor make your rings yet.”

“We already have them,” said a beautiful lady elf holding up her hand to display a mithril ring set with a diamond.

Steve was shocked. “What? How?”

“I went ahead and made those myself,” Celebrimbor said.

“You were supposed to make all the rings with my supervision!” Steve shouted.

Duffinor turned to the three elves. “Ha! You pointy-eared idiots! You got defective rings because Steve didn’t help make them.” He looked back at Steve. “What a bunch of morons. I wouldn’t make them any more than those three. So where’s my ring?”

Steve pulled away a cloth unveiling nine rings. “Nine for Mortal Men doomed to die.”

“Hey!” Duffinor shouted. “We’re really sensitive about our mortality, so stop bringing it up.”

“Death is a gift,” said one of the elves.

“I know you’re just mocking me,” Duffinor said and then grumbled. “Pointy-eared elitists.” He stared at the rings. “So how many do we get?”

Steve motioned to the other eight kings behind Duffinor. “One for each of you nine.”

“Yeah, but I have the best kingdom — ask anyone,” said Duffinor. “Maybe I should get two rings. You can give me Halindur’s ring because his kingdom is dumb and smells weird.”

“Hey!” shouted Halindur.

“I’m just being honest here,” Duffinor said. “You have a dumb smelly kingdom, so I should get two rings.”

“You each get one ring,” Steve stated.

The kings of men each took a ring. Steve then pulled away another cloth revealing seven more rings. “Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone.”

“Whoa!” Duffinor exclaimed. “You’re giving seven rings to those short, bearded weirdos?”

“You have a problem with that?” asked one dwarf.

Duffinor ignored him and looked at Steve. “They’re just going to take your rings into some cave and probably lose them down a pit or something. You don’t want that for your rings, Steve.”

“Why don’t you butt out of it?” growled a dwarf.

“Adults are talking here,” Duffinor said. He turned back to Steve. “So why don’t you not be so hasty and just take these seven rings here and put them on a high-shelf where certain short people can’t reach them and we talk about maybe giving more rings to Man.”

“You’re asking for it!” said a dwarf, drawing an axe.

“And which of the seven are you?” Duffinor asked. “Dopey?”

Before a fight could break out, Steve jumped in the middle. “Let’s all calm down. Everyone gets a ring — one ring.”

Duffinor spotted something on Steve’s hand. “What’s that ring you have?”

“Oh... just one I made myself,” Steve said nonchalantly.

“Well, I hate to tell you this, but you’re not very good at making rings yourself, Steve,” Duffinor stated. “It’s kind of a boring-looking ring.” Duffinor stared closer at it. “Is there something written on it?”

“It just says... um... Steve.”

Duffinor shook his head. “It looks like more than that.”

“It’s ‘Steve’ in really flowery script.”

“Where did you make that?” asked Celebrimbor.

“Oh, just at Mount Doom,” Steve said. “Just playing around.” He then smiled and said quietly. “And now it can only be destroyed in the fires of Mount Doom.”

“Well, that wouldn’t be hard,” Duffinor stated. “You could just jump on an eagle, fly over there, and drop it in. It would take like twelve minutes.”

“I think it would be more difficult than that,” Steve said.

Duffinor shrugged. “Whatever. No one cares about your lame ring.” He looked at the ring he held in his hand. “Let’s talk more about our awesome rings. So you said these are ‘rings of power.’ So they give us like special powers, right?”

“Oh yes,” said Steve. “They will give you the mightiest of power.”

“Like what powers specifically?” Duffinor asked. “Will they give us super-strength?”

“You will be mightier than any other man,” Steve answered.

“How about invulnerability? Like will arrows bounce off me?”

“Yes, none shall harm you.”

“What about like heat vision? Like if I don’t like someone, can I just burn him with my eyes?”

Steve raised an eyebrow. “Sure. Why not.”

“Will it let us talk to fish?” King Halindur asked.

Duffinor scoffed. “What kind of lame power is that?”

“It could be useful,” said Halindur defensively. “If you were out at sea.”

“It wouldn’t be useful anywhere ever,” Duffinor declared. He turned to Steve. “But if Halindur’s ring gives him the power to talk to fish, I want mine to let me talk to fish too.”

“It won’t let you talk to fish,” Steve said, not hiding his annoyance.

Duffinor looked a little disappointed. “Okay. I guess that’s fine.” He thought for a moment. “But it won’t stop me from learning to talk to fish on my own, will it?”

“How does that matter?” Steve asked.

He motioned to Halindur. “Well dufus here got talking to fish in my head, and now I’m just really curious what fish have to say.”

“Why don’t you all just put on the rings and see what powers you’ll receive,” Steve suggested.

“Sure.” Duffinor took his finger and was about to place it in the ring, but he stopped. He looked at Steve. “And you’re absolutely certain these rings are free? Like I won’t suddenly receive a bill by post or something? I mean, I have a really rich kingdom, but I still don’t like surprise bills.”

“It’s free,” Steve declared. “Absolutely free. Just put it on.”

Duffinor nodded and slipped on the ring, and the laughter of Steve was the last mirth he knew.

---

For thousands of years, under the influence of Sauron, the ring twisted and hollowed out King Duffinor until he was but a shadow. But a fearsome and powerful shadow he was, and he became known as the Lord of the Nazgûl. When the One Ring was cut from Sauron’s hand by Isildur, he, along with the other Nazgûl, was no longer able to keep his physical form. But during the Third Age, Sauron’s power grew. And with him, so did the power of the Nazgûl. King Duffinor — his true name now long forgotten — became known as the Witch King of Agmar, and all feared him.

When the One Ring was found again, it seemed the hour of his victory was at hand. The Witch King led the siege of Gondor from his fellbeast, as they were certain now the Ring was being held in the fortified walls of Minas Tirith. It seemed an easy battle, until the arrival of the Riders of Rohan. But even they were no match for the army of Sauron, and the Witch King flew over Pelennor Fields, spotting with triumph King Théoden of the Rohan, now pinned under his own fallen horse.

The Witch King landed his wicked creature next to Théoden. “Ha! You stupid dummy!” said the Witch King. “You think you’re so smart with your horses, but now you’re like stuck under a horse. You know what this is? That’s irony. And now you’re going to get killed by the Witch King — not the name I would have chosen, by the way. I would have gone with like ‘Warlock King’ or ‘Sorceror King,’ but whatever; I’m really powerful and now you’re going to die.”

Théoden struggled under the horse. There was little he could do. “I care not for the words of an empty slave of Sauron.”

“Hey, I don’t serve Sauron,” said the Witch King. “If anything, he does what I tell him. I think like my ring is more powerful than his One Ring, anyway. The only reason I’m devoting my sole purpose to finding the One Ring is because I felt like doing that. So shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about, you horse king. I bet your whole kingdom smells like a stable. Anyway, I’m going to kill you now.”

A soldier stepped between Théoden and the Witch King’s mounted fellbeast. “Begone, fowl dwimmerlack, lord of carrion!” the soldier cried.

“What are you even saying, you idiot?” said the Witch King. “You’re just making up words.” He reared his fellbeast. “Do not come between a Nazgûl and his prey.”

The soldier stared down the fellbeast. “Your beast does not frighten me.”

“No, I’m the Nazgûl, you dum-dum!” said the Witch King. He pointed to the fellbeast. “Why does everyone think this thing is the Nazgûl? I don’t even know what it’s called. I call this one ‘Taco.’ Anyway, Taco, eat this dude!”

The fellbeast lashed out at the soldier, but with a swing of the sword, the soldier beheaded the fellbeast and the Witch King toppled off of it to the ground.

“You killed my Nazgûl!” cried the Witch King. He paused for a second. “Ah, man, now you got me doing it! I’m so going to kill you!”

He let fall his mace, shattering the shield of the soldier and sending the soldier to the ground.

“Ha, you Rohan moron,” laughed the Witch King. “I’m like super-strong and awesome. I’m going to kill you and the horse king and then get another one of...” He pointed to the fellbeast. “...whatever that was.”

Suddenly, the Witch King yelled out in pain. He turned to see a hobbit had stabbed him from behind. “Ow! You furry-footed little weirdo! How did you even find a sword that could hurt me! That’s not fair!” He turned back to the soldier. “But whatever, you fool, no man can kill me. It’s like a prophecy, made by Glorfindel — maybe you’ve heard of him as he’s a pretty important guy — so you’re pretty much screwed.”

The soldier pulled off her helmet, revealing her bright hair that gleamed with pale gold upon her shoulders. “I am no man.”

“What? You’re a chick?” the Witch King said. “Well, obviously you can’t kill me either because a chick is worse than a man.”

“GIRL POWER!” cried the lady soldier as she plunged her sword between the Witch King’s crown and mantle.

“Ah! Killed by a chick!” cried the Witch King in his final gasp. “This wouldn’t have happened if I had… two rings!” And as he faded off into the void, his final thought was wondering what a fish would have to say about all this.