The world is changed. I can feel it in the water. I can feel it in the earth. I smell it in the air. Much that once was… is lost.
For none now live who remember it.
It began with the forging of the Great Rings. Three were given to the Elves; immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dwarf-lords; great miners and craftsmen of the Mountains Halls. And nine… nine were given to the race of Men… who, above all else, desire power. For within these rings was bound the strength and will to govern each race. But all of them were deceived. For another ring was made. In the land of Mordor, in the fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Sauron forged in secret a Master Ring… to control all others. And in this ring he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life.
One Ring to rule them all.
One by one, the free lands of Middle-earth fell to the power of the ring. But there were some who resisted.
A last Alliance of Men and Elves marched against the armies of Mordor. And on the very Slopes of Mount Doom, they fought for the freedom of Middle-earth.
The host of Gil-galad and Elendil were mustered in Arnor, many great captains and princes were among them. They spent two years gathering forces and spent three more years in Rivendell forging swords, armor, and spears. The companies climbed over the Misty Mountains and went south along the river Anduin, gathering Elves from Greenwood and Lórien. They were eventually joined by an army of Númenoreans from Gondor, led by Isildur’s brother, Anarion. They were ten times ten thousand strong.
The forces marched over across the stony Dagorlad Plain, intending to march to Barad-dur, but a massive army of Sauron’s Orcs poured through the Black Gates to meet them.
Although the Alliance had been marching for several weeks across many leagues of land, the Elves and Men were ready to face their oldest and greatest enemy. No prisoners could or would be taken; both sides knew this.
The Men and Elves stood in perfect ordered ranks as Sauron’s Orcs stood in an unordered mass, driven by pure hatred and the desire to kill.
The Elves bore with them two-handed, curved blades and spears that stood ten feet high. The Men wielded long swords; and both races had talented archers among them. The Orcs had black-bladed swords that were roughly made and sharp pointed spears. They also carried small bows made from horn and the blasted wood of Mordor, and the black feathered arrows, tipped with deadly poison, that could barely shoot over one hundred feet.
As the two sides approached, the Alliance spreads out its ranks to increase the width of their volley and to make sure the Orcs did not come around behind them.
The Elves let their arrows fly from their bows, hitting their target every time. The poisoned arrows of the Orcs took many lives of the Elves and Men on Dagorlad Plain. A great number of arrows fell upon the Orcs, taking a heavy toll on them also.
Several hard weeks of fighting slowly dragged by and a vast number of Orcs had been slain. But the Alliance lost many of their Men and Elves as well.
Slowly, the Alliance gained control of the battlefield and drove the Orcs back through the Black Gates and into Mordor. They made their way to Gorgoroth Plain between Barad-dur and Mount Doom. There, the ground was covered in grey ash and the sky was dark like coal. The air was full of the sulfurous fumes from Mount Doom, that was erupting in fire and fumes, creating unbearable heat.
At the head of the Alliance stood Gil-galad and Elendil, who wielded Aiglos and Narsil. The banners of the Elf-lords were like stars in the night sky of the wasteland. Their amour as green as the grass in the Shire and their cloaks resembled the dark blue sea.
Thousands of more Orcs continued to fall to arrows, sword or spear. Bodies of Orcs, Men and Elves littered the battlefield. Red and black blood stained the rocks and the dirt ground.
Finally, a day came when victory came close at hand, but to their dismay, Sauron himself came to the battlefield. He stood almost twice the height of the Alliance’s tallest man. He wore black amour that was covered in spikes and blades that looked like the thorns of a rose. His helm was spiked and long like a horse’s skull. Sauron wielded a huge mace that was about five feet long. It was black and made of iron and had six blades attached to its head. He used this mighty mace to hit a dozen Men and Elves at a time.
Sauron swept through the bravest and strongest Men, casting them aside like rag dolls, until he came face to face with Gil-galad and Elendil. Reaching down with his big amour covered hand, he grabbed Gil-galad by the neck and held him up high in the air. Everyone watched in horror and disbelief as the High-king of the Noldor burst into flames.
Elendil lunged at Sauron but he was cast aside by Sauron’s great mace. Isildur ran to his father’s side and tried to pick up Narsil, but Sauron stomped down onto the silver blade, breaking it to pieces. Sauron bent down to pick up Isildur but the king’s son swung the broken blade against Sauron’s hand, severing his black fingers from his hand and separating the ring from its master.
Sauron began to shake and his amour rattled as he burst into the wind and vanished. His legions of Orcs were left running about in terror and tried to escape but most of them were hunted down and slaughtered.
Mordor was left in the shadows for a thousand years, but the One Ring was not destroyed.
Now destiny has brought it to the hands of a Hobbit. Frodo Baggins of the Shire. For the time will soon come when Hobbits will shape the fortunes of all…
Well, sort of.
Author's Chapter Notes:
Enjoy! This first part does not involve the other movies, but the next chapter will. Brace yourselves!