Melkor Tattoo 🎉

Grom refused. He had a cauldron to test.

“Release me, fool,” whispered the inky mouth on Grom’s lower back. melkor tattoo

She took a needle and ink of forgetfulness—made from river water and a sigh. Over the next few hours, she added details. The spiked crown became a chef’s hat. The glaring eyes became kindly, if a bit squinty. The jagged mouth became a slight, knowing smile. She added a wooden spoon in one hand, a steaming pot in the other. Grom refused

When she finished, Grom looked in a mirror. The tattoo now depicted a fat, cheerful kitchen-god—Melkor, the Dark Cook of Legend. She took a needle and ink of forgetfulness—made

“Ink my visage upon your back,” the being had growled, his crown of iron thorns scraping the cavern ceiling. “And I shall grant your cauldron the power to boil any meat, even troll kidney, to tenderness in seconds.”

Grom twisted. “You’re a drawing.”