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CHAPTER 1: A NEW MISADVENTURE
In Hell, within the Fifth Ring, the realm of Lust, a towering spire rose toward a sky perpetually bathed in blue. Its summit was home to the Ring’s ruler, the very embodiment of carnal sin: Asmodeus. Yet the story I am about to tell is not about him, much to his likely annoyance. Though he embodied Lust, he was nearly as arrogant as Lucifer himself, the King of Hell and ruler of the Pride Ring, but, as I said, this tale concerns no one from the upper echelons of the infernal hierarchy. Instead, we shall focus on the exploits of another inhabitant of the Lust Ring. Indeed, the tower sprouted various offshoots, much like climbing plants winding around a tree trunk, and these were the dwellings of the Ring’s most prominent figures. These architectural branches housed various penthouses, each equipped with the finest amenities to satisfy any desire; and given the location, there were certainly plenty of desires to be fulfilled. One such residence belonged to a succubus surrounded by every conceivable luxury: a swimming pool a small fish might mistake for a lake; spacious closets for her boundless wardrobe (though I cannot guarantee they could contain her ego); vast windows overlooking the city’s neon lights, mostly hearts, countless "X"s, and other shapes I need not elaborate on; display shelves filled with awards won thanks to her mouth, her voice, that is; and a kitchen stocked with every ingredient the seven Infernal Rings had to offer, along with a fully equipped bar. It was all held together by fuchsia and black walls. This succubus lived a life of luxury, and her name was Verosika Mayday. But what exactly is a succubus? Since centuries have passed since this demonic species was first described, it seems fitting to dust off what we know and bring that knowledge up to date. Succubi, along with incubi, were the natural inhabitants of the Lust Ring; if you have never met one, do not believe what prudes and moralists say. They are polite creatures, provided everything goes exactly their way; otherwise, it becomes clear that patience is not exactly their strong suit. They appear as incredibly beautiful female beings who easily bewitch foolish mortals, men who might be lonely one day and, the next, ask no questions when they become the targets of women possessing infinite allure. In the past, it was believed that succubi tempted men while incubi tempted women, but these demons have occasionally shown interest beyond the opposite sex. Naturally, their human form makes succubi unrecognizable to the human eye; however, once they shed the disguise used to enter the world of the living, they are distinguished by their horns, prominent, yet shorter than those of imps, the small, goblin-like demons that inhabit the Wrath Ring. They possess a tail that may end in a hooked or heart-shaped tip, as well as bat-like wings, small in size yet strong enough for flight. They are described as vain beings who prioritize their appearance above all else, viewing any day without compliments or romantic advances as a day wasted. They are great lovers of music, Verosika herself made a name for herself in the human world through pop music, as well as parties and hedonistic fun. They excel in the arts (provided drama counts as art) and take pride in the image they cultivate. You might also be wondering about the earlier statement that this story did not concern members of the social elite; indeed, that remains the case. Although succubi and incubi within their Ring enjoyed a certain notoriety, thanks in part to Asmodeus, who displayed less of the arrogance typical of the infernal ruling class, partly due to his relationship with an imp, these demons still occupied the bottom of the social pyramid. They stood only a few notches above the aforementioned imps and hellhounds, the denizens of the Ring of Gluttony, where the ruler Beelzebub also showed them a degree of benevolence. Thus, even as these lower-tier species jostled to rise up, to those at the top it was like watching sheep head-butting one another to become leader of the flock; yet from the peak of the pyramid, all sheep look the same, and they are all down below. To the casual observer, Verosika might have seemed the perfect pop-star stereotype, an image heightened by her nature as a succubus (though demonologists still debate whether that nature is innate or merely a consequence of living in the Lust Ring). Yet, sometimes all it takes is the right nudge from the right person to reveal that there is more to these creatures than vanity, drama, seduction, and chaos... or at least, to try.
Verosika was heading home after a rather unfortunate ordeal. It wasn't the usual sort of trouble, greedy managers, last-minute concert cancellations, or other typical music-industry woes, but a mishap involving a beach party, a monstrous creature born from the sea (and from the contents of the succubus’s flask, though those are mere details...), and the police.
In short, it was all a bit much, even for a being hailing from Hell, but the worst part, at least for her, wasn't so much facing a sea monster or having to turn a police station into a brothel with her crew just to make a quick escape; rather, it was the fact that this whole mess was caused by an old acquaintance, and an old flame, though that term is a bit of a stretch, implying lingering affection where the greatest show of fondness between the two would simply be not throwing knives at each other. The individual who had left his mark on the succubus’s heart, one way or another, was an eccentric imp (to put it mildly) named Blitzo; he was always keen to point out that the final "o" shouldn't be pronounced, though since he isn't the protagonist of this story, that little detail will likely be forgotten, as happened nine times out of ten anyway, so I’ll leave it to the reader’s magnanimity to decide how to pronounce the name. It had all started as a dare, but the stakes were high enough to convince anyone to go along with it, after all, a parking spot always comes in handy. Yes, it was definitely the succubus’s supreme confidence and her competitive streak that had convinced her to accept the challenge, not to mention the desire to rub the victory in Blitzo and his crew’s faces. But all she ended up with was a disaster and the need to find a new place to park her car.
The door closed behind Verosika; she just wanted to forget the whole day. However, since the sofa was closer than the bar area, and prison cells aren't exactly known for their comfort, she decided to flop down onto the soft upholstery and distract herself with whatever was on TV. That was when she fell into a trap that catches many people, as many readers can surely attest: the endless channel-surfing loop. It’s that moment when everyone suddenly becomes a cinema expert, capable of distinguishing masterpieces from terrible movies and analyzing them, all based solely on the cover art. Her constant channel-surfing led her to the Voxtek-managed networks; after a string of abysmal programs, she stumbled upon a channel that pirated content directly from Earth, ironic, given the "enormous" quality of the incredibly original shows Voxtek itself offered.
"The Hobbit", the succubus said, repeating the title on the screen. The name meant nothing to Verosika, but, exhausted and unwilling to ask questions for the rest of the evening, she decided to stop and see what the movie had to offer.
The film was already underway, though had one pointed this out to the demoness, she likely would have gestured to an empty spot in the room and declared that the space represented the exact amount of interest she had in the movie.
<<There was the city of Dale. Its markets were renowned far and wide; it was a place rich in the bounty of the vineyards and the valley, peaceful and prosperous>>.
These were the first words heard since the succubus had decided to watch the film in an attempt to leave the day’s troubles at the door.
The scene showed a map, followed by glimpses of a medieval town: people bustling through the streets, children playing on rides, and merchants selling silk and trinkets.
“Ugh… a fantasy movie…”, the succubus remarked in a flat tone. She saw a map that didn’t match the real world and a medieval setting, revealing a cinematic and literary sensibility that wasn't exactly broad-minded. But the movie had already started, and her desire to look for something else was practically non-existent; she decided to let it play, feeling fatigue rising within her and knowing she would soon crash from exhaustion, hoping, in fact, that the film might hasten the process.
<<For this city lay before the gates of the greatest kingdom in Middle-earth: Erebor. Stronghold of Thror, King Under the Mountain. The mightiest of the Dwarf-lords>>.
The narrator continued as the scene revealed a mountain standing before the city of Dale; carved into its rock face was a massive gate, flanked by two statues of Dwarves. Next, the Dwarf King, Thror, was shown walking past a line of guards.
“Are you hiding something…?”, Verosika said, a classic smirk playing on her lips; the succubus reasoned that if beings as small as Dwarves had created such colossal structures, it must be to compensate for some sort of shortcoming. Just then, Verosika felt her phone vibrate and noticed messages from various members of her crew. This distracted her from the narration, which continued by describing the Dwarf King’s lineage and the wealth of the kingdom of Erebor, a hoard of precious materials including gold, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires, before finally revealing a stone roughly the size of a fist that glowed with its own light: the Arkenstone, the Heart of the Mountain.
Verosika looked up from her phone when she caught a certain glow coming from the TV screen; she got a good look at the Arkenstone and admitted she wouldn't mind having a gem like that in her home, or perhaps broken into smaller stones to adorn one of her outfits. She imagined a hypothetical performance where she stepped onto the stage, the spotlights hitting her new dress, making her look like an angel descended from the heavens to anyone watching.
That stone was truly incredible if merely seeing it in a movie made a demon desire it just as much as King Thror had.
<<Thror called it the King's Jewel. He took it as a sign, a sign that his right to rule was divine. All would pay him homage. Even the great Elven King, Thranduil>>, the narrator stated, as the film showed Thror’s throne with the Arkenstone positioned above the Dwarf’s head; he watched the arrival of Thranduil, an Elf with blonde hair and a crown made of branches and small leaves.
"Interesting", Verosika said, finding the Elven King’s face particularly noteworthy. "If you’d been at the police station, it wouldn't have been so bad", added the succubus, who, despite her demonic nature, had specific tastes, and Thranduil seemed to fit the bill. As soon as the Elven King vanished from the scene, Verosika turned her attention back to her phone while the story continued, recounting the obsession that had seized Thror regarding his treasure, before showing signs of a great threat looming at the gates of Erebor. Suddenly, a character on the TV, Thorin, Thror’s grandson, was heard shouting "Dragon!", and Verosika immediately looked up again.
<<It was a Fire-drake of the North. Smaug had arrived!>>, the narrator's voice announced.
“Oh, sure, I thought it was made of candy”, Verosika remarked sarcastically as she watched the dragon attacking Dale and Erebor. She viewed the scene with the typical detachment of a spectator, though at times she glanced back at her phone more to use it as a shield than for any other reason.
<<Erebor was lost. For a dragon will guard his hoard as long as he lives>>, the film narrated, showing the Dwarves fleeing their city.
“Wait a minute”, Verosika began, “Do the women have beards too?”, she asked, focusing on very specific, peculiar details. “That explains their obsession with digging and stones”, she concluded wryly.
The scene continued, with Thorin spotting Thranduil and his elven army on a nearby hill. The Dwarf called out, pleading for help from the Elven-king, who, however, did not move and ultimately decided to retreat.
The succubus’s expression shifted rapidly. A smirk had reappeared at the sight of Thranduil, only to vanish when she saw him withdraw. Someone had pinned their hopes on another individual in a moment of need, only for that person to walk away, leaving them to fend for themselves. Needless to say, the succubus immediately projected her own breakup with the aforementioned imp onto the scene she had just witnessed.
<<Thranduil would not risk the lives of his kin against the dragon’s wrath. No help came from the Elves that day. Nor in the days that followed. Robbed of their homeland, the Dwarves of Erebor wandered the Wild. A once-mighty people, now fallen>>.
The narrator’s voice recounted the tale, scenes showing the Dwarves wandering aimlessly, Verosika now showing interest in the story, the weariness seemingly gone, all while, instinctively, she gripped the phone a little tighter.
<<The young Dwarf prince labored as best he could, toiling in the villages of Men. Yet he always remembered the smoke from the mountain beneath the moon, the burning trees, torches of light, for he had seen the dragon’s flames in the sky and a city reduced to ash. And he never forgave, and he never forgot>>.
Verosika followed the narrative with genuine interest, though perhaps not enough; the final sentence went in one ear only to be absorbed along with the rest of the speech, which, in hindsight, might not have been the wisest choice.
<<As absurd as it may seem, this is where I come in, my dear Frodo. By sheer chance and the will of a wizard, fate decided I would play a part in this tale>>.
The scene and tone shifted radically. On the screen appeared what looked like a house built into a hillside, topped by a tree, before revealing the interior and the figure who had been narrating until that moment. He appeared as a small humanoid creature, incredibly, even smaller than a Dwarf. The creature sat at a desk, surrounded by books, busily writing.
The scene had a calming effect on Verosika; along with a sense of tranquility, she felt fatigue creeping back in. Though she didn't yet know the Shire, she could already describe it quite precisely with a single word.
"Boredom", she thought to herself as the scene unfolded, turning her attention back to her messages.
<<It began... well, it began just as you might imagine. In a hole in the ground, there lived a Hobbit. It wasn't a nasty, dirty, wet hole, filled with worms and reeking of stench. It was a Hobbit-hole. And that means good food, a warm hearth, and all the comforts of home>>.
The narrative continued, showing the interior of the Hobbit-hole, until another Hobbit appeared, younger than the first, with black hair and an apple in his hand, stepping outside to collect the mail before heading back in. The scene then showed the younger Hobbit, Frodo, bringing the mail to Bilbo, only to become curious about Bilbo's writings; Bilbo, however, covered everything up, unwilling to let them be read until they were ready.
Verosika saw a bit of herself in this figure, given her meticulous nature and her insistence on perfection in her lyrics. She was well known for refusing to reveal her song lyrics until she was absolutely certain they were flawless. Furthermore, her mind finally found the answer to the question of what a Hobbit actually was.
The scene then showed the older Hobbit picking up the letters and discovering they were confirmations of participation for his and Frodo’s birthday party; everyone was coming except for the Sackville-Bagginses, relatives who demanded an invitation delivered in person, prompting the older Hobbit to declare that they would have to walk over his dead body before he’d do such a thing.
Seeing this, the succubus felt her interest rekindle; she recognized traits she shared with the old Hobbit, such as fame, judging by the sheer number of party responses, and a refusal to let anyone walk all over him. Though she would sooner kiss the dirt than admit it, perhaps she had misjudged him. There was more to that Hobbit than met the eye.
In the film, Frodo countered that the Sackville-Bagginses would likely find trampling on their relatives perfectly acceptable. Meanwhile, the older Hobbit hid away his valuables as a precaution, noting that he had once caught Lobelia Sackville-Baggins making off with cutlery in her pockets.
“Pathetic”, was all the succubus could say upon hearing the anecdote about Lobelia, while reflecting that, in her own past, she would have done well to hide her credit cards and car keys. These thoughts were interrupted by a soft yawn, a sign of the fatigue that was weighing ever more heavily upon her. Eventually, exhaustion won out, and the succubus drifted off to sleep while the movie played on, filled with dialogue.
<<...and nothing unexpected... ever happened>>.
Those were the last words Verosika heard before slipping into the dream world, as the television recounted adventures and mishaps that made the succubus’s own day seem like a walk in the park, though, had she been awake, she certainly would have insisted that no one could possibly have had a worse day than hers.
An indefinite amount of time passed, then...
Knock... knock... knock…
“Huh…?”, Verosika stirred, roused by a noise; she noticed the light filtering through the large windows, or at least the subtle shift in brightness across the blue sky of the Lust Ring, and saw that the TV was off. She found it odd, then dismissed it, figuring she must have rolled onto the remote and accidentally hit the power button.
Knock… knock… knock…
The succubus turned toward the door, now fully awake, or at least awake enough to recognize the sound of a hand rapping against the entrance. She let out a quick huff; a new day had arrived, one meant for rest and for shaking off the lingering frustration from earlier events.
Verosika decided to employ a well-known tactic for when the unexpected comes knocking on one’s day off: staying perfectly still and waiting for the intruder to lose interest in disturbing her.
Silence…
Knock… knock… knock…
Nothing. For once, Verosika would have to put into practice an old saying handed down by the wisest minds in existence: get off your ass and walk.
There was a straight stretch between the door and the living room, unobstructed, or rather, it would have been a straight path for a human. For a succubus pop star, however, a detour to the bathroom was required to touch up her makeup and ensure she looked presentable. After a few adjustments, Verosika reached the door and paused again, still hoping the nuisance had left; but the repeated knocking made her sigh, and she finally decided to open it.
The door swung open, revealing a very old man, judging by his long beard and the staff he held in his hands. The observant among you will have already recognized a famous wizard: Gandalf, a name linked to adventures that would seem incredible even to an infernal being. However, when that name had been mentioned on TV, Verosika’s ears had been plugged with sleep; consequently, all she saw was an old man dressed in gray, and, for her taste, looking quite ridiculous.
“Good morning”, the man began.
“No”, Verosika dismissed him, slamming the door shut and returning to the living room.
Some might find it odd that Verosika wasted time fixing her makeup only to utter a single word and close the door again; but as mentioned, demons of the Ring of Lust are vain. They have to look perfect even when slamming a door in your face, that way, you remember their beautiful features right before you remember the wood of the door hitting your nose.
Knock… knock… knock…
A fresh knocking sound filled the empty living room. Verosika moved toward the door again, growing impatient.
“I’m looking for someone to share an adventure with”, the man continued, the same elderly man who had just had the door slammed in his face.
“Congratulations”, the succubus replied, and then, slam, the door was forcefully shut once more.
Verosika had taken barely two steps before hearing a knock at the door again.
“Listen! You shitty old man!”, the succubus began, clearly furious. “I don’t give a fuck about whatever you have to say. If you want a photo or an autograph, wait for my next concert”, she said, though she found it unlikely that someone who looked every bit the ancient geezer would actually be a fan of her music. “And if you’re one of those guys, no, you can’t see me without clothes or shoes on”, she concluded, given that quite a few fans had shown a particular interest in her figure.
“It’s clear it won’t be a good morning until you’ve gotten rid of me”, the old man stated calmly, completely unfazed by the succubus’s words.
“Aww, finally something we can both agree on”, Verosika replied in a tone that was mock-sweet yet dripping with sarcasm; for the third time in the Ring of Lust, the sound of that door slamming shut echoed out. “And another thing...”, the succubus began, reopening the door to spew out the last of her resentment toward the old man, only to stop short when she saw there was no one outside.
“Okay...”, Verosika said to herself, feeling happier now that there was nothing left to ruin her day...