These are probably my last words: I Namrïn, also known these days by Namégot, should be the worthy possessor of the throne of Angband…
Here are my last moments of lucidity and I’ll use them to tell my memories … A legend tells how time began.
In the beginning, the gods created the seven kingdoms. These lands were all imperfect because a huge gap filled them. To fill this emptiness, the gods established an unlimited source of magic in the land of Angband that could spread its power over every part of this universe. They also created a guardian to protect this source from any evil malice. The guard was a beast of great strength, conscience andintelligence and had never been equaled until now : his name was “The Black Flame”. The men of this time (immortals, including me) saw The Black Flame as one of their fellows. Angband was then the most successful land of the seven kingdoms.
One day, Mot, a malicious god, convinces the Black Flame to absorb the substance gushing from the source of magic. The effects were more than disastrous. The Black Flame gained in strength, size and lost his reason to become a monster with a dark heart …
He ravaged the kingdom and destroyed most forms of life that lived there.
The resistance organized to bring down the Black Flame. I led this movement myself but we were known as “Demons of Angband” by our appearance (the war had wounded and disfigured our people), but also because we dared to attack a divine creature.
Contrary to what the stories say, I was not the one who utterly crushed the Black Flame, but an unknown warrior name Tellurön. He vanished shortly after and we never heard about him again. I inherited all the power and I received the throne of Angband, acclaimed by all.
My curiosity led me to taste the substance of the source. It made me stronger but just like The Black Flame, it also turned me crazy … So I hid the source, to keep its power and then undertook a great conquest of the seven kingdoms, starting with the ‘Desolation’: the kingdom empty of life.
But an immortal managed to stop me: Ranwë. He could not kill me because of my immortality and the invincibility I gained from the source, so he chose to lock me in the Desolation.
It is now 700 years; the evil substance had lost its influence on me. It allows me to sometimes think freely. But I fear the madness caused by loneliness and the pain prevails on my common sense…
I bequeath the ‘Desolation’ to anyone who can relieve me, but order him to apologize on my behalf to the seven kingdoms for all the wrong I’ve done.