Goodkind meets Tolkien

'Richard danced with death but around him the tide of the battle turned against him. Already his valiant midlanders were losing ground to the evil forces of the Order; cruel men that this time were armed with something more than hatred for moral clarity. Which explained the fact that Richard was losing and not even his endless reserves of hate and rage could do anything about it. There were voices around him but he couldn't understand them, he was lost in his dance with death, killing all around, they seemed to be crying in some forgotten world far away:

"The Gars are coming! The Gars are coming!"

For a moment more Richard's thought hovered. "Tolkien!" it said. "But no! That came in a fantasy tale and this is no Fantasy. This is my tale and this tale uses elements related to fantasy to explain things that are important and not just escapist Altruism.'

- Agulla

Lord of the Things

'The Black Gate opened, beyond which stood one million gleaming-blue eyed orcs of D'Hara, dressed in identical red uniforms, shoulderplates embossed with the red hammer and sickle Eye of Sauron. At their front rode a dark rider, and his robe was dark. His fell horse cast a shadow of the underworld darker than darkness can generate simply with the absence of light, which is dark.

Gandalf, Aragorn and the hobbits, who Gandalf thought were the bravest little dwarfs he'd ever met, rode to the gate to meet with this emissary. Gandalf felt the dark power of the Nazgul emanating from the sky above them, and he swore to himself, "Bags!" He knew the Nazgul and this emissary would be masters of subtractive magic, while he himself could only master the additive powers of sorcery. fortunately, the battle wizard and seeker King Aragorn son of Darkenthorn stood next to him, armed with the sword of truth.

The emissary looked at them haughtily from beneath his black helm, which was carved into the shape of a hideous monster too hideous to actually describe. He spoke in a deep and booming voice, "Retreat now before the hordes of Sauron, leave your objectivism and individuality right here at my feet, and I will let you all live. Also, my Master won't be forced to deprive the bearers of these," he held up Frodo's enchanted dwarf-mail, "of their freedom of choice by torturing them for any longer, which I assure has felt like an hour for every minute they've been tortured, because they have no freedom to choose to be tortured. Also, he's been raping them."

Gandalf stood up in his saddle. he knew it was important for a commander to instill his men with confidence, so he also spoke in a booming voice. "It is not right for any man, or sorcerer, or Emperor, or demi-god, or any other intelligent creature to deprive another intelligent creature of his right to choose, which is exactly what your master does. He will not prevail, because his ideology of collectivism, of a single eye will never succeed in forcing free men to abandon their powers of reason and ability to dictate the course of their own lives."

The emissary laughed, filling all in the dread plain of Dagorlad with a profound sense of unquiet. "You crave objectivism, and free will! Sauron gives none! Give me the keys to Orthanc, and tell me what your spies were doing, or Sauron the Great is going to make them both feel like they've been fucked by a Gar in heat!"

Aragorn felt his Thing rising....'

- The Stranger

The Fellowship of the Thing

Gandalf sat by the fire, smoking his pipe and looking at Frodo the hobbit, who also sat by the fire but was not smoking a pipe. Gandalf liked the way this hobbit didn't allow knowledge of Elvish to sway his mind away from objective, human truths, as that tired and hollow language had done to his uncle Bilbo. Gandalf's piercing blue eyes watched with fear as Bilbo held the One Ring in his grasp, though the little hobbit did not know yet how deadly the danger to him was from that cursed plain golden ring.

"That is the One Ring of Sauron, forged in the depths of Mordor, emblem of the one circle in which he hopes to trap all of humanity, a world devoid of choice, of freedom, of man's right to do anything unique or challenging of the Order that will be the rule of Sauron. It also contains part of his soul, and with it his power is greatly magnified."

Frodo looked at the ring which was not a ring with horror, and all focus left his mind. "Gandalf, I will do whatever you ask, but please, let us destroy this evil thing!"

Gandalf's Thing (Narya, the Thing of Fire) rose, and he kicked Frodo hard in the face. Little hobbit teeth rolled around on the floor, but he could tell from the light in Frodo's eyes that his well-placed kick had shocked the Hobbit back into noble clarity. "Bags, Baggins! We cannot destroy an object of this much power! Destroying a ring this powerful is tantamount to choosing death over life! Of succumbing to fear itself in the face of bold independence!"

Through additive magic, Gandalf made his pipe smoke turn a heroic, piercing shade of blue. "No, the problem here isn't the Ring--it's Sauron. We need to find a way to defeat him utterly, and thus create a world in which mankind has the freedom to choose to use this artifact of pure evil without risking the loss of free will which is currently attached to it."

"How will we kill Sauron? Isn't he protected by legions of blue eyed D'Haran orcs? And screelings Ringwraiths?"

Gandalf felt a bit sore from kicking the dense-headed halfling, but he knew this was no time for his will to falter: this hobbit had to know what they were fighting for. "We will take the Ring to Elronddicus E'el Elronder. He will know how we must proceed." '

- The Stranger