The Best Use of Healing Magic

Over a hundred feet of rock gobbling Were-Worm erupted from the sands of Lithlad, exactly where we wanted it. Olog crews manning powerful ballista dotted the cliffs on two sides and with a single shouted order they aimed and loosed their titanic barbed bolts into the stoney flesh of the beast, carrying with them great chains which the Troll folk took hold of.

Next came the charge of Caragor riders with their great lances, driving them into the huge creature over and over, hundreds of them. Even that massive thing could not withstand so much penetration and wailed its last.

Now thousands of Orcs descended upon the were-worm, fixing long hooks into it, and together with the Ologs they pulled the beast up from the sand and began the work of carving over four hundred feet of monster meat.

Planning, preparation, and precision. We performed this operation numerous times over the months since the emissaries left, hunting the Were-Worms of Lithlad into extinction. Good riddance too. Unlike in the Peter Jackson films of the Hobbit, Sauron could not in fact control them, and if he could he wouldn't have done something as stupid as delivering reinforcements with them when he could have undermined the defenses of strategic strong points like Osgiliath, Helm's Deep, and Minas Tirith.

No, the Were-Worms were not uber handy subterranean servants but giant fucking disasters to great builders like me. I could not allow them to exist alongside me in this world. So like all things stupid, ugly, and annoying the Were-Worms found their end at my hand.

The deserts of Lithlad were always lean holdings, but now my forces in the region grew fat. Bloated on the constant feasting of monster meat, and even then smoking and salting enough leftovers to fatten all of Mordor for a season.

Even now I have a similar operation shaping up in Nurn to hunt down the Leviathan. God I love teaching Uruks to swim. Nothing funnier. I also had them working on diving with whaling spears and testing out spiked and bladed ship hulls.

Basically in my world giant monsters are either handy like the Mumakil or history.

Terraforming Lithlad was beyond simple. The soil was all massively volcanic, and diverting runoff from the frozen peaks of Seregost to irrigate the region required very little engineering wizardry. With hot weather plants imported by our friends in Harad such as eucalyptus, olive, and various citrus trees, as well as crops such as okra, peppers, sweet potatoes, and eggplants we would have another region of Mordor productive within a few years.

The changes to Gorgoroth would need to wait until I took the One Ring for myself and finally broke all of Sauron's power over Middle Earth. On top of keeping Mount Doom active for millennia choking out all life besides the hardy Orcs and Uruk with hot ash and toxic volcanic gasses, Sauron's dark magic maintained the mountains around Mordor much like the foundations of Barad Dur. The mountains around Mordor are unnaturally high and steep well beyond any stable angle of repose. This keeps any moist air from crossing into Mordor and lowers the annual rainfall drastically in the region.

When I break Sauron's spells on the region, not only will Mount Doom finally cease its discharge, but the surrounding mountains of Mordor will break down and experience as much as a twenty percent decrease in elevation in only a few years' time. Thus bringing the rain, but also bringing the good guys to come crusade us to death.

Definitely something to do much much later in my reign. Till then I will just enjoy my massive access to ruby, zircon, and topaz.

On the flip side, the region was still good for the same purpose the Machine Tribe used it for: industry. Now don't it wrong, the Machine Tribe weren't some band of steam punk wizards bringing the technology of Mordor into the future. Not at all. The Machine Tribe wasn't any more advanced industrially than any other group of primitives, but instead possessed a collectivist industrious philosophy viewing themselves as cogs in a great machine that works without end.

Damn handy in a labor force, but not some great industrial revolution in Mordor.

They streamlined production via assembly lines, but pretty much produced the same blades and bricks you'd find anywhere else. Well not the same bricks as the amount of volcanic material available in Mordor allows the generation of mortar that lasts thousands of years naturally, let alone how durable the shit gets when you throw in magic.

Needless to say I was basically living Bob the Builder's wet dream working with that stuff building mega structures that would last basically forever so long as some dickhead gods don't twist and wreck the world again. Or yeet a Tulkas at me for a fist fight.

I contemplated how cool a Don Frye vs Yoshihiro Takayama clash between me and Tulkas would be late into the night after I returned to my ultra luxurious palace. Though not one for self reflection, even I could tell that my spirit influenced my flesh and was turning me into a Maia- like Uruk Tulkas, who was a Valar who said fuck that noise in regards to creation powers and put all his build points into strength.

I wasn't gaining any neat innate powers myself these days, but I always felt stronger each and every day. The me that fought in the Battle of Gorgoroth would be pulped by the me of today. And that isn't even including the extra metaphysical weight the New Ring gave me to throw around.

My contemplation ended when a pair of unfamiliar hands came upon my traps and a new set of lips kissed my ear and neck. Unfamiliar, but not unknown, as I knew the sound of her heartbeat and her scent well.

I thanked the patient schemes and manipulations of past Thrag as a naked Eltariel slid across the body and landed in the lap of current Thrag.

Past Thrag is such a homie.

With the security of Mordor looking better and better every day the possibility of traveling north to Mornedhel and seducing me a nice NPC She-Elf from the Avari - the six tribes of Elves that refused the journey west to Valinor outright - became vastly more possible, but landing a named character in a setting always meant so much more to me.

Without Eltariel the closest would be Lithlariel, the daughter of the former Queen Marwen of Nurn, who fled Mordor seven years ago and took up residence in the city of Mistrand on the south coast of the Sea of Rhun.

But Eltariel was the bigger win no doubt. The muscles built by centuries of hard training and travel never faded despite her more leisurely lifestyle in recent years. Instead they provided the framework as said leisure and a more rich diet restored the femininity of her build, and my hands clamped down on the most divine ass cheeks and thighs I'd encountered since my departure from Jack.

Those ass cheeks felt like victory, like spiritual rejuvenation, like the song of Venus playing out over the foam of her creation. It was fucking awesome.

I'd have to thank 'Galadriel' for ordering her to seduce me as a long term plan to control Mordor. Past Thrag really was a genius.

Tall, like all of her kind, Eltariel possessed a body much longer and deeper than my other lovers, and I worked her with my finger as preparation for the real penetration. Out of necessity, I'd further delved into Alchemy and the Healing Arts to develop the lubricant stored on my night stand. During a period of inspired genius I created a warm oil that stimulates arousal.

Big money when you are packing a bronze iguana in your undies as a woman's roomy accommodation is directly proportional to her level of arousal and like my old friend Marcus Phenex, I hate it when they are all crying and shit.

Between fingers that look like they grew on a banana tree and my cheat code lube the Vanyar Elf soon found herself in the new territory of squirting orgasms. Rather than let her figure out what the hell just happened I mounted up and elicited the first shriek of vulgarity I'd ever heard from her perfect mouth with an 'Oh Fuck!' screamed as my massive cockhead spread her pink slit open further than she'd ever imagined outside a birthing chamber.

Despite any misgivings one may have about the mechanics of such a coupling, I was an old hand at this stuff. Long before I was Thrag, I was just a giant space lizard man with big sci-fi guns and a big smooth cock, fighting and fucking my way across the sea of stars.

Plus I got healing magic so my newest lover was soon fully on board with her sister concubines in worshiping giant bronze smooth Uruk cock. No amount of supernatural foresight would have ever shown Elrond that his most revered art would one day be used to stuff every inch of the new Dark Lord's massive fuckstick into the needy cunt of the Blade of Galadriel, but if it had I like to imagine that the man would give me a supportive nod.

Eltariel's eyes rolled up into her head when I unloaded rope after hefty rope of my reproductive superweapon baby batter as deep inside her as her body allowed. A bit of healing magic brought her back from the brink as I smiled over her.

After all, if the poor thing thinks she is done after one pint of procreation juice in her pussy then she don't know how Thrag brings the thunder, or that she has two other holes that we are going to explore long before this session is over.