UMBAR, Middle-earth

Folks, I’m gonna say what Gondor’s court poets won’t. What the Elves are too smug to admit. What even the Dwarves are grumbling into their ale but won’t publish in The Erebor Times:

Aragorn—our so-called king—has gone full woke.

Now, I’ve tried to give the guy the benefit of the doubt. Sure, he used to live in the woods with scraggly facial hair and bore a ranger name like “Strider,” which frankly sounds like a brand of granola. But I figured, hey, he fights orcs, swings a big sword, and probably hunts meat with his bare hands. Manly stuff.

But then the truth started leaking out. You know who blew the lid off this whole thing? A stableboy in Minas Tirith (Eru bless that whistleblower). Said he found Aragorn alone in the Hall of Kings, reciting Elvish poetry. Not just mumbling it—full-on performance, voice trembling, hand over heart, tears welling up. And these weren’t battle hymns, folks. No. These were “ethereal meditations on starlight” and “laments for ancient trees.”

Trees, for Eru’s sake.

And it gets worse. Turns out the guy memorized dozens of these things. I mean, who has time for that? I barely remember my wedding anniversary or anything else about my wife. Aragorn remembers the Lay of Lúthien in the original Sindarin. I don’t even know what the hell that means. But I know enough to say: that’s not kingly conduct. More like leg-crossing, soy and lembas eating, beta behavior.

And let’s talk about the Elves for a minute. The ultimate soy-boys of Middle-earth. They live in enchanted forests with zero economic output, eat leaves, don’t seem to believe in walls or borders, and have a very suspicious interest in gender-fluid fashion. I mean… Legolas? Enough said.

Now, Aragorn’s out here pushing “healing across cultures,” inviting Hobbits to Gondor’s councils, and sponsoring “story circles” in Osgiliath for orphans from “both sides of the conflict.” I’m sorry, but those child-orcs should have known better.

We had the Mouth of Sauron on the pod last week—yes, that Mouth of Sauron—and even he was shaking his helmet.

“Back in my day,” said the Mouth, “men who ruled didn’t cry over sunsets or organize harp concerts.”

Thank you!

This isn’t leadership. This is Rivendell dinner theater. What’s next? Mandatory lembas for school lunches? Banning chainmail because it’s “too aggressive”? Changing the White Tree to “The Inclusivity Shrub”?

We used to have kings who charged into battle yelling “For Gondor!” Now we’ve got one softly whispering namárië and lighting incense in memory of “fallen goblins.”

It’s a damn shame and Middle-earth deserves to be made great again, not brought to their knees by a beta king who reads poetry and leans into Arwen at nearly every public appearance.