The following is written from Talion’s perspective in Shadow of War. I tried to put myself in his shoes and write what I would be thinking. The results were….enlightening…
How long has it been, really, since I started this quest for vengeance? It seems an eternity. When the days are filled with bloodshed and conquest, it all starts to coalesce into an amalgamation of joyous horror and anticipation; anticipation of the hunt, surely, but also anticipation of the end. My end. An end which never comes. I am kept in a state of perpetual undeath by a being I can’t understand, but that which I know intimately. Celebrimbor has taught me so much about vengeance. He has taught me what it means to be an instrument of pain, a harbinger of suffering.
My days I have learned to fill with the only solace I have: the wholesale slaughter of my enemies. The number of these foul creatures that have fallen to my blade would stretch across the lands of Mordor. I could fill the sea with their corpses, but still there are more. But killing them isn’t enough. It isn’t sufficient to take a life. Taking their mind is the key to my ecstasy. Turning them to my cause and enthralling them to my will is the real coup of Sauron’s power.
Most do not come willingly. Some can’t even be swayed, but I have no problem adding their bodies to the pile. My toy children are sometimes fickle, always hungry, and never without their good qualities. Often I find myself above the fighting pits watching the spectacle of violence they perform for me. Ignorant and bred for war they may be, but they are never boring. The ones who sway from my flock soon find themselves suddenly disemboweled or set upon by wild beasts. It is an abhorrent lesson, but a necessary one.
They are characters, to be sure, and not the only ones I have to deal with. But between spiders in the form of women and forest creatures with an appetite for death, I choose the simpletons. They come in quite handy when I need to destroy a fortress. Now there’s a picture I could paint forever. I don’t know if my body still feels adrenaline, but I do know that taking their precious castles from them is exhilarating. One little head tossed from on high, and I have their loyalty. Almost takes the fun out of it. But then it’s back to the mundane art of stalking, killing, breaking their mind, and forging rivers of their blood.
There is no escape from this. I can’t even recede into the comfort of my own mind. He is always there. Always watching, listening…ready to spur me on if I seem hesitant. His is a wrath that will never be satiated. …..Or should I say “ours”….
I find myself thinking if it is even worth it. There must be something more to it. Perhaps I should dig deeper into their minds to find the greater meaning. Perhaps this is all their is to the afterlife. My blood was spilled so long ago, and now I live in a hell of my own making. So be it. If there is one thing I know, it is slaughter. I have become the artisan of fear. I will relish every scream I cause. I will tear away every mention of hope. I will not stop until either they are no more, or I am.
I am the Bright Lord, and I will bathe this world in flame.
Kerry’s note: Well that got fucked up real fast. I had intended on being a little less of a psychopath when writing from Talion’s perspective. But thinking about it, he probably isn’t too sane is he? …..It probably doesn’t say anything good about MY brain, either. Oh well, off to therapy…..