[an error occurred while processing this directive]
...
Sauron’s Diary
by Sauron the Maia
13. September, 3018
Well, I sent off my wraiths on the nine best steeds in the stable this morning. To this day I cannot get their names all straight, but their Number One was more argumentative than usual since he had his dear departed heart set on a white horse which would set him apart from the others. Melkor Almighty---a white horse! What next, lembas and an Elvish song book? So I asked him why the big crown wasn't now good enough for an errand to a village of midgets when it used to be good enough for an evil kingdom, and all he could do was mutter some sob story about the crown being invisible to the eyes of the living in the "real world". I then told him that was ridiculous since the little gift I gave him way back when only caused his mortal body to "fade out", and his crown was still perfectly viewable by every man and beast in Middle-earth. That didn't cork his keg hole quite yet, though. He cited page 252 of the Gollum Report which testifies that the halfling twit who probably has my Ring becomes completely invisible whenever he puts the Ring on, clothes and all. We went back and forth on the whys and wherefores of this issue till five past eleven, and even the slack-jawed Uruk-hai who shoveled the stables volunteered his theory. Then it hit me in the Eye: who's running this racket anyway, the master or the minions? I told the lot of them to shut up and do their bit or there would be fresh craters dotting the Plateau of Gorgoroth before lunchtime---one of them with a crown in it. So they finally shoved off, and I was allowed to plot and scheme in blissful solitude. If those foul-breathed Dwimmerlaiks don't reach at the very least the Ford of Isen by the 18th, they're going to wish their mortal asses were dead for real when they get back.
Damn it all, what was I sniffing at the Cracks of Doom when I made that damn Ring?
