After Melkor's rebellion arc and many lost battles, his temper was boiling faster than water for British tea. Angband had turned into a chaotic circus. Miaulë was often seen beating Draugluin, the excuse of a werewolf, over the head with a pan. Mairon and Thuringwethil were 'hunting' elves in their furry forms like a bunch of overexcited kids playing tag.

In short, Angband was a madhouse. Fed up with the incompetence around him, Melkor decided to take matters into his own hands. Deep in the fiery heart of Angband, he began shaping his new creation. He threw all kinds of thoughts into the fire, hoping to forge something formidable. And thus, Glórund, the Silly Worm of Angband, was born. Little did Melkor know, his creation would soon embark on a ridiculous adventure.

Once upon a time, in the vast plains of Ard-galen, Glórund, the Silly Worm of Angband, decided to sneak out for a leisurely stroll. He was minding his own business, enjoying the serene landscape, when a band of acrobats led by none other than Fingon the Valiant spotted him. Now, these acrobats were not ordinary performers. They had a trebuchet, a barrel of napalm, a bathtub full of olive oil, and a dozen flamingos as part of their act. Seeing Glórund as the perfect opportunity for a grand spectacle, they hatched a plan. With a mischievous grin, Fingon gave the signal. The acrobats quickly doused Glórund in olive oil, making him as slippery as a fish. Before he could react, they set the napalm ablaze, and with a mighty heave, launched him from the trebuchet.

As Glórund soared through the air, spinning and flaming, a flock of flamingos flew by, adding to the chaos. The sight was both magnificent and absurd. Glórund's wings, already singed by the fire, couldn't withstand the stress and were lost somewhere between the flamingos and the clouds. With a dramatic crash, Glórund landed back in Angband, covered in soot and olive oil.

"It's been a very stressful day, okay?" he muttered, trying to shake off the remnants of his wild adventure.