Elf of Lindon & later the Gwaith-i-Mirdain; crafted & entrapped by a minor ring of power (Lord of the Rings Online character)
Narmelleth!!! I mean. She's got it all. Corrupted by the Gift Lord, Ring-forger, Bane of Fornost, Earnur's Worstie, COOL OUTFIT, Redemption Arc we didn't start the fire
she actually managed to destroy the lesser ring of power "Annatar" had used to corrupt her, which is like, SO impressive considering how long she had been under its influence. She also fought Mordirith (the steward of Angmar) and his new champion Mordrambor (a universally loathed NPC that everyone rightfully hates for personal reasons) single-handedly!! I don't mean alone, the player character was there, but I mean she did it single-handed. with one hand. she lost a hand and kept fighting. and WON!!!
Golfimbul:
A king of Orcs whose beheading by Bandobras Took led to the invention of golf.
Look the guy was instrumental to the invention of golf in middle earth, what more could you want
The wife of Finrod and mother of Gil-galad in one early draft of the legendarium.
I mean honestly, this woman lost everything. She lost her son to Fingon, she lost her husband to Amarie, she lost her name to subsequent revisions, does she have to lose a obscure blorbo poll, too??
Golfimbul:
A king of Orcs whose beheading by Bandobras Took led to the invention of golf.
Look the guy was instrumental to the invention of golf in middle earth, what more could you want
A king of Orcs whose beheading by Bandobras Took led to the invention of golf.
Look the guy was instrumental to the invention of golf in middle earth, what more could you want
Ainairos:
Ainairos was an elf that appeared in the earlier versions of the legendarium, as one of the Solosimpsi (later Teleri) who survived the Kinslaying at Alqaluntë (Alqualondë). Later he spoke against the Noldor and for the concealment of Valinor, which would make any outside of it unable to enter.
It is the delight of grey-footed old gaffers and their squabbling grandchildren alike to tell tales beside the fire for who does not love to hear of the notable accomplishments of their ancestors? There is Snowdrop Stumbletoe who grew carrots longer than a hobbit was tall, so large that the vast Stumbletoe family needed to pull up only one to make a hearty supper. There is Balto Tinkettle, a hobbit so foolish he once thought that he had caught the moon in his still and became famous throughout the Shire for his ‘moonshine’ and his thick headedness. And then there is the tale of Belladonna Took and Golfimbul the Goblin King.
There are, in fact, two tales featuring old Golfimbul, and the first - the story of how Bullroarer Took knocked his ugly head from off his shoulders - is better loved, not least for the delightful game it spawned. His great grand niece’s tale is not quite so glorious but is, perhaps, rather more hobbitish being, at its heart, about quick wits and root vegetables.
After the Battle of the Green Fields, the rumours spread that the site was haunted. This is the natural order of things and it is rare to find a battlefield that does not have some ghastly tale of ghostly soldiers attached to it. This story went that Golfimbul could not move on with his horrible, lumpy head lost down a rabbit hole and so now every night he goes roaring about the field upon his warg trying to find it. Quite why his warg remained, the stories do not say.
Bella had heard this tale and being, to her parents’ despair, a bold and adventurous young hobbit, resolved to get to the bottom of it. So it was that, after a highly successful late night raid upon young Farmer Maggot’s turnip crop, she thought it would be a lark to cut across the old field upon her way home.
The walk started pleasantly enough; the green turf was soft and springy beneath her feet and the stars shone in the sky, scattered like marbles left by an overeager child called in for dinner. It was late in the year though, and very cold. Bella shivered and walked faster, wishing that she had brought a thicker coat as her mother had suggested.
She warmed herself with thoughts of the hot bath she would take upon her return and then the supper she would have; beef and ale pie with a golden crust, some of that nice gammon cooked up with sour cherries, the carrots that she’d pilfered roasted with honey, and mashed turnip rich with butter.
Our heroine was so very distracted with thoughts of the trifle she would have for dessert that she very nearly walked right into the ghosts of Golfimbul and his monstrous steed.
Ectoplasm dripped from the warg’s great jaws and vanished as it hit the turf, and atop it, Golfimbul cut a terrible figure. Even without his head he was taller than poor Bella, his armour all decorated with skulls and scrap iron, and a vicious hooked blade in his translucent hands. The blade was translucent too, but Bella did not care to try it.
“G-good evening, sir,” she stammered as politely as she could, and offered her best curtsy. Though Golfimbul was a goblin, and long dead besides, he was still a king and she thought that was the proper etiquette.
“Where is my head?” said a voice like a cleaver cutting bone.
“Have you checked the rabbit holes hereabouts?” Bella suggested, in a very small voice.
“Yes,” said the goblin king. “But the little buggers dig more every every day and I’m too large to fit down and check. You’ll have to look for me.”
“I would,” said Bella, “only my parents are expecting me home-”
“If you won’t find me back my head then I’ll take yours to replace it,” roared Golfimbul. “You have until daybreak.”
How he could roar without a mouth, Bella did not ask but, being an enterprising young soul and rather attached to her head, said, “Worry not, old Goblin.” Her voice only shook a little. “I shall surely find it for you.”
As good as her word, she set off across the field, systematically sticking her head in every last rabbit hole. She found a good many worms and spiders, the bones of a dead bird, and a small, jeweled chalice, but she did not find any goblin skulls.
Her dress got caught upon brambles and stained by grass, and her hands were scratched and muddy and all chilled through but she had no choice but to keep looking. She could feel the ghost’s gaze upon her back and that made her stumble ever faster through the dark but still her grasping hands found not a thing.
The night sky began to lighten and her heart fluttered in her chest like a panicked bird making her wonder if she would die of fright even without the ghost’s intervention.
Fortunately, though prone to fancy she was at heart a sensible young hobbit. “If I cannot find his head,” she told herself, “and don’t care to give him mine, I must give him something else to satisfy him.” At the word ‘satisfy,’ her thoughts turned once again to the lovely supper she had missed and the lovely legumes that she had stolen and now would not get to eat.
“Ahah!” cried Bella and, from her sack of ill-gotten vegetables, she drew out a turnip and set to work upon it with her best whittling knife.
Now Bella was a talented whittler but the field was very dark and her hands were shaking with cold and fear, so the results weren’t her best work. The face that she had carved looked rather wobbly but there was nothing she could do to mend that. Holding her breath she held it out to the goblin king who snatched it from her hands with grubby claws.
“Why,” cried Golfimbul, examining the turnip, “I am even more handsome than I remembered!” And he set it atop his shoulders and vanished with a howl and a clap of thunder.
Bella was very much relieved and stumbled home to find her parents near frantic with worry and her delicious pie long since gone cold and soggy.
I would like to tell you that she learnt her lesson from all this but she most certainly did not. That, however, is a tale for another night.
