One Love To Rule Them All

[Boo]

This thing I actually wrote as an assignment for my English class four years ago. At the time I hadn't read any of the books, was (still am) head over hobbit heels in love with Billy Boyd and....well.....read and be prepared for the following:

1) Mary sueism of the highest order.
2) AU ALERT! COMPLETE DISREGARD FOR CANON AHOY!

ONE LOVE TO RULE THEM ALL


Once, before the creation of Time itself, spirits walked the plains of the stars. But these spirits made Chaos of the cosmos, and would have put the whole of Creation to naught, where it not for the coming of the Gods.

These Gods were six in number: the eldest, twins Loralia and Helrain, Ashkai, Waeran, Neofald, and the Child-Goddess Willow. And they put a stop to the Chaos, and made the spirits their servants. Soon, the Gods created Heaven, Hell and Middle Earth shortly after.

And the Gods chose their children, and made them in their liking. Loralia became Goddess to the Elves of the West, and Helrain God to the Elves in the East. Ashkai became God of the Dwarves, but Waeran chose no people, and took disciples to teach to them the art of Wizardry. Thus, he had the title of Lord Mage among the Wizards. Neofald became the God of Men, and Willow became Child-Mother to the race of Hobbits.

Millennia passed, and the spirits soon learned to love their new tasks of watching the peoples of Middle Earth. A few select, however, stayed in Heaven to serve and entertain the Gods personally. These spirits were chosen for their beauty, dedication, and the amount of power they possessed.

The fairest and most powerful of these spirits were the twin sisters Eirone and Nenya. Golden-haired was Nenya, with sapphire blue eyes and an unmatched purity and serenity. Eirone had hair the colour of the setting sun, and sparkling green eyes. Yet her beauty was marred by her pride, ambition, and her unusually short temper.

These two sisters, as the Gods found, were destined to be spirits of objects of power on Middle Earth: the Western and Eastern Rings of Power. Thus, they were trained by Lord Mage Waeran, so they could be ready for their task on the world.

Yet Fate has a way of upsetting the plans of the deities, for she made sure that the Elven God Helrain and the spirit Eirone fell in love.

This very act was regarded with contempt by Gods and spirits alike. For a God to make a mere sprite his Queen was a scornful act, and the spirits forbade it, for fear that one such sprite, corrupted by its divine status, would use its influence to return the Chaos again.

And so it was, that when the lovers came to Willow for the blessing (for she was also Goddess of Marriage), she laughed and said, “Brother mine, ‘tis mirthful folly what thou hast asked me to do!” Angered, Helrain replied, “Hold thy tongue, thou Goddess of Runts. Forget not that I, being elder, can and will ignore thy refusal.”

Willow’s dark eyes flashed and narrowed. “Then let this matter be taken to our brethren, and see which of us shall have the last laugh.” As the Child-Goddess left, Eirone spoke. “They shall not let us be wed, my beloved, and they shall separate us for certain.” “Fret not, dear heart,” replied the Elven God softly. “None shall stand in our way of happiness.”

But several did stand in their way of happiness, five to be exact. They all met in the Parthenon, and a heated argument began. From one of the stained-glass windows, one could see flaxen haired Helrain scream at his family, with Eirone beside him, pale as the moonlight. Dark-haired Loralia tried to reason with him, and rusty haired Ashkai scolded him. Snow haired Waeran and silver-maned Neofald said nothing, and brown haired Willow held a smug smile which she often cast at her brother.

“Twin sister, thou hast forsaken me! Why hast thou not given thy support to me and my cause?” the Elven God reproached. “Helrain, our Law forbids such a union,” she replied sadly. “I see thy distress, and truly would I love to see thee happy, but...” “But nothing!” roared Ashkai, pounding his club on the arm of his marble chair. “We have outvoted thee on the matter! You and the sprite shall not wed!”

“Thou hast no right to tell me what to do!” cried the Elven God. Without warning, he formed a blue energy ball and threw it at the Dwarven God. Shouts resounded, and Ashkai paled, but Waeran stepped in front of the missile, and with his thought he banished the weapon to nothingness.

[Boo]

All eyes were locked on Helrain, now shaken with fear. Ashkai shook in his seat. Never before had one God dared to raise a smiting hand against another. To do so would not only destroy the God, but his people also. “Wretch!” cried Neofald, angered by the act. “Thou art not fit to be called God! Step down, and take thy place with the wench beside thee.”

The fear left the Elven God’s eyes, to be replaced by determined fury. “Speak not that way about my beloved, cretin. You that calls yourself Perfection is repulsive next to her magnificence.” He turned to Eirone, and kissed her gently. “As Eldest God, I have vetoed your vote. This too is the Law. Eirone and I shall wed, with or without thy consent.”

All yelled in outrage, yet they could do nothing, for Helrain could and would veto their votes. But as the lovers turned to leave, Loralia stood. “As Eldest also, I cancel your veto.”

Helrain turned and stared at his twin with undisguised anger. “You can do no such thing, Loralia.” “Oh?” she said, and stepped down to face him. “You forget that, as the more powerful of us, I can do so. Be reasonable, brother! You know the Law, and the Law states...”

“To Hèl with the Law!” he cried. “I am a God! The Law hast no hold over me. Moreover, the Law cannot dictate my Love. If thy blessing you refuse, I shall step down as a God and leave with my beloved!” “Listen to thy speech, Helrain!” replied Loralia hotly. “You sound like a lovesick mortal youth! Enough of this! Thou shalt not wed the sprite!!”

“Who art thou?” came a new voice, and Eirone stepped between the Elven Gods. “Who art thou, Elfess, to say such things about my love and your elder? Take back thy words, for they insult me greatly.”

No one spoke. Loralia’s brown eyes held a wildness rarely seen on her face. Then, she raised her hand, and with a blow sent Eirone reeling across the floor. “Wretch! Ungrateful wretch!” she screamed. “Dost thou think thyself a Queen to speak to me thus?” Eirone managed to sit up, but she looked not at Loralia, but behind her, her expressions unreadable.

The Elven Goddess turned, and a green energy ball threw her to the ceiling. And an unseen force pushed her to the ground. Loralia got up, ambrosia, the blood of the deities, rising in her mouth. Helrain stood in front of her, rage in his eyes, and another energy ball to launch.

Ashkai got up, determined to help Loralia, but Waeran stayed his hand. “Not yet, my brother. Though Helrain is mighty, Loralia may prevail.”

And far away, on Middle Earth, for sacrilege against the woods of Lothlorien, the Western Elves declared war on the Eastern Elves.

Blow for blow, the twins exchanged: Loralia on the defensive, and Helrain trying to breach her blockings. The battle raged, in Heaven and Middle Earth, until Loralia let her guard down and was completely vanquished by Helrain. And on Middle Earth, a siege was made upon Rivendell, where Lord Elrond led his troops into what he knew to be a losing battle.

“Farewell, Elfess,” whispered Helrain, and prepared to deliver the final blow, when someone shrieked, and Neofald knocked him to the ground with a mighty fist. Ashkai and Waeran joined the fight, and together they subdued him. On Middle Earth, the Dwarves and the Men, led by Saruman the White, attacked the Eastern Elves from all sides, and following the slaughter, drove the survivors back to the East.

Helrain kneeled on the floor, beaten and weakened, yet still defiant. The five of them looked sadly upon him, for they knew the penalty for a God who willingly tried to kill his brethren.

“Helrain, thou art Fell,” said Loralia. The Elven God’s eyes bulged, but before he could react, a giant hole appeared behind him, dragging him into its gaping emptiness.

“Thou who was God of Elves is no more,” continued Ashkai. “Thou shalt remain on Middle Earth, MARRED and DAMNED, a creature most horrible to behold.” “NO!” screamed Helrain, and clawed frantically at the floor to stop his journey into Darkness.

“Thy country shall no longer be green, but black,” said Waeran. Helrain continued clawing, begging for mercy. “Thy people shall be MARRED as well,” said Neofald. “Their countenance, culture, yea their very speech shall be Dread and black.” Eirone screamed and rushed to save her love, but Neofald’s mighty arms held her back. “Thou hast no right to judge me thus!” screamed the Fallen God. “Fare thee well, God that Was,” said Willow. “For thou shalt never return.”

“Think you that I shall remain?” he cried, even while he edged closer and closer to the abyss. “Harken unto me, you that call yourselves Gods! I shall conquer thy peoples, and they shall bow to me. I am God no more, but God of All I shall be when Middle Earth is mine!!”

He stood up, ready to embrace his fate. He looked at all his former brethren, and at Eirone, still struggling within Neofald’s grasp, crying out her rage and grief at his exile.

“So this is the price I must pay for Love,” he said quietly, still looking at Eirone.

And he fell.

[Boo]

(It just came to me that I think Katie may have flamed this story before...XD)

On that first night after the Elvish Wars, all of Middle Earth heard the shriek of a Fell voice, and a Shadow covered the lands of the East. All who fell within its glare were mutilated and tortured into vile beings, their screams of agony echoing throughout the West. And when the Shadow had rested, the people of the East were so horribly changed, that none ever wanted to believe they had once been Elves.

Hence, the East became known as MORDOR, the Elvish word for “Shadow.” And its people became ORCS, the Elvish word for “Demon.” And their Fell God became forever known as Sauron. Beautiful he had been, but no more, and he hid his vileness in an iron body, inside his fortress of Bharad-Dùr, where his Eye looked out over the West.

As to the fate of Eirone, the Gods decided that she would continue to serve them in Heaven, and not be a Ring spirit to Sauron, now Dark Lord of Mordor, who would surely turn her to Evil, a thing that the Gods would not allow. Eirone protested vehemently against this. “I would rather join my love in damnation, than be alone in purity!” she declared to Nenya, who knew her twin’s protests were useless. And so Eirone gave in, yet she longed for Helrain, now Sauron, but couldn’t do anything to ease her heartache.

And so she would have stayed in Heaven for the rest of eternity, were it not for an incident that changed the course of Middle Earth’s history forever.

One day, a messenger came to Eirone, bearing news that Neofald wanted to see her. A bit confused, she went to the Parthenon and waited for the God of Men to arrive.

“There you are,” a voice came, and Eirone turned to see Neofald behind her. His silver hair, usually loose, was tied back and showed off his handsome face. “My Lord Neofald, how may I serve thee?” she said. “Eirone, I have been watching you for some time, and I see pain in your eyes. What ails you?”

Eirone turned away, so he could not see her tears. He took her chin and made her look at him. His grey eyes, either sharp with disdain or anger, were soft with concern. “You are too beautiful to waste your affections on one, and one only. Give your heart a chance to know love once more. Give someone new a chance to show you how he feels....”

By the time Eirone came to her senses, he was already kissing her. Gagging, she pushed him away, her eyes burning with shock and rage. “What are you doing?!” “You are beautiful, Eirone. You can have anyone you want, and yet you pine for one who is No More! You are wasting your time on a DAMNED being! It is folly, my dear,” he continued, trying to get closer. “Let me help you ease your pain. Let me release your heart from its unnecessary prison.”

“Do not touch me, lecher!” she screamed. “You could never love me as Helrain did, all I see is lust in your eyes! And I will always love him, even in his vileness. You are nothing compared to him! You are not worth the very Shadow his feet now tread!” Neofald’s eyes narrowed, and he took her by force. “Unhand me! Let me go!” she screamed, as he pinned her to the floor.

And then, in her rage, energy beams flew from her hands, knocking the God of Men down. Ambrosia pouring from his nose, he struggled to sit up, and just then the other four came in, for they had heard Eirone’s screams.

Neofald turned from his family to Eirone. “Wench! Crazed wench!” he yelled. “What happened?” said Waeran. “I asked her the reason for her sadness, for she looked forlorn, and she went mad and struck me down!” “You lie!” screamed Eirone. “You tried to seduce me, you pig!” “But do you deny that you struck me?” he replied. Eirone’s lips pressed hard together, and reluctantly she shook her head, growing angrier when Neofald held a smug smile on his face.

“Eirone!” a voice cracked like thunder, and the spirit turned to Ashkai. “You know the penalty for striking a God: exile into the Darkness for eternity.”

“But...but...it was in self defense!”

“Be that as it may,” said Loralia. “It is the Law, Eirone. It is written in stone, and as old as Time itself. You must be exiled, even if Neofald had tried to use you.” Eirone paled, and in terror she tried to run from the room, but Waeran knocked her down with his thought.

By this time, the Gods had surrounded her, and each glowed a strange blue colour, preparing their magic for the rite that would banish her into the abyss. “You cannot do this! This is unfair!” They ignored her, and a portal appeared, and she was being pulled into it. “False Gods! Unjust Ones! Your Law is corrupted, as you all are! I shall return, as will my beloved Helrain, and we shall bring you down!”

As soon as she had finished, a Shadow appeared and seemed to cover the room. The Gods cried out and staggered back. Eirone, pale with terror, watched as the Shadow surrounded her and engulfed her. Yet, it was not cold with dread, but warm with love and longing.

“Helrain?” she whispered.

And a heavy slumber took hold of her.

********************
“Raella! When will you get up, you lazy girl?” Raella groaned and continued to sleep. Unfortunately, Vara would have none of it, and rolled her to the floor. “Vara!” she screamed, and glared at the dark-haired girl giggling before her. “I’ll get you for this, see if I don’t!” “Go on and try, lazy one. But later, when this commotion has died down.”

“Commotion? What ever has happened that the court of Minas Tirith should be in a flurry?” Vara rolled her eyes. “Honestly! Sometimes you sleep so much I’m surprised you remember what day it is. We have a visitor in the palace, Raella: an Elf Prince who seeks a bride in Gondor!”

Forgetting her plans for revenge, Raella got Vara out of her room and rushed to her bathing room to get ready. About an hour later, she stepped out, wearing a lavender-coloured gown that complimented her red locks. She looked at herself in the mirror one more time before going tot he throne room.

As usual, the other women gave her dark looks as she sauntered into the throne room. She knew that she was the most beautiful one in the court. No man ever said no to her soft, porcelain skin, dark green eyes, and hair the colour of autumn leaves. Not even Isildur, Crown Prince of Gondor, already engaged to be married, could keep his eyes off her as she took her place beside Vara.

As the Chamberlain droned about this Elf Prince, her thoughts drifted through the events of her life. Her father was one of the minor Princes of Gondor, cousin to King Elendil. When she was seventeen, she had been sent to Minas Tirith to become one of the Queen’s ladies in waiting.

At first Raella, a shy girl, was repulsed by the attention all the men gave her. Thanks to Vara, daughter to the Prime Minister, she came out of her shell and quickly became the belle of the Court. Flirtatious yet ladylike, regal yet not conceited, everyone grew to like her. Except a few women whose lovers she had “stolen” from them.

Finally, the Chamberlain stopped, the trumpets flared, and through the doors stepped a figure that made all the ladies’ hearts leap. He was very well built, and towered at over six feet. His long blond hair blew around his flawless face, and his deep blue eyes twinkled as he looked around the throne room. He was dressed in the fashion of the Mirkwood Elves, complete with bow and arrow.

As the Elf Prince approached King Elendil, all bowed, as was customary, yet the women stole one longing glance at him as he approached the King. Raella kept her head down, smiling to herself in amusement. “Silly girls,” she thought, her excitement dulled by the women’s mooning.

“Your Majesty,” said the Elf Prince, in a rich voice. “You honour and humble me greatly with your hospitality and great realm. Many days I have spent in your fair land, looking for a Queen to take home with me. My search now leads me to Minas Tirith, where I hope it will be completed, for I must leave for Mirkwood within a month.” The old king smiled. “It is not often an Elf visits Gondor for such reasons, yet you are most welcome.” He then turned to his court. “Let tonight be a celebration, for Prince Thamuil of Mirkwood shall choose his bride at that time!”

[Boo]

There was loud cheering from this, and the preparations began. The young women who were not already promised to another sent their maids around the city, looking for the best dresses. Raella watched the “fuss,” and didn’t care about it all. Even Vara was caught up in the madness, she reflected later that night as she brushed her hair. She wore the same gown as she wore that day, not caring the least about this Elven Prince.

The night of the party, all the women stayed close to Prince Thamuil wherever he went, making his task of finding a bride much easier than he had anticipated. Raella kept her distance, unusually quiet and aloof. “Friend, why aren’t you dazzling the Prince with your beauty and vivacity?” Vara asked. “Vara, I can’t be bothered. All the fuss made over him is ridiculous. It’s not as if he’s the only Elf in Middle Earth, for Neofald’s sake.”

“Your loss,” she replied, and sauntered off to find the Prince, secretly pleased that Raella wasn’t in her flirtatious mood, for she would have easily ensnared the handsome Elf for certain.

At midnight, all was ready. The Prince left the King’s side and walked down the Hall. Every girl he passed broke down in tears. Raella shook her head when Vara, not too far ahead of her, went into hysterics. How in Heaven’s name could they act so silly over him?

When he came to her, however, he stopped and looked straight at her. Raella’s heart fluttered a little, but her eyes never betrayed her emotions as he came to her and kissed her hand. “I have chosen!” he declared. The king laughed. “So be it! My Lords and Ladies, drink health to Prince Thamuil of Mirkwood and Princess Raella of Gondor!”

A large cheer erupted around the startled girl. Thamuil smiled at her and kissed her cheek gently. “We shall wed within a month, my love, and to Mirkwood we shall leave, and spend our days there.” Raella said nothing, but her eyes voiced her rage for her.

For the first part of the month, Raella did everything she could to get the Prince to change his mind. She ignored him, insulted him, and even hit him. But all he did was smile and say, “Soon, my love. You do not love me yet, but soon you will.” Nothing she did worked, and he continued to treat her tenderly until at last, Raella grew to love him as strongly as he did her.

Finally, the day of the wedding came. The court was adorned in white, and the sun streamed into the window, lighting everywhere. King Elendil and Crown Prince Isildur were with the Elf Prince, trying to calm his unusually flustered nerves. The ladies of the court looked at him in adoration, and were envious of young Raella.

At last, the music started, a hush fell, and Raella, clad in white, approached the throne, her face flushed with happiness. Thamuil couldn’t hide his smile as he saw her coming towards him.

The peace was shattered by a shout, the doors crashed open, and in rushed Lord Elrond and his cousin Tharanduil, King Of Mirkwood. “Stop this wedding!” Elrond cried. “This is a charade! He that stands before you, King Elendil, is no Prince of Mirkwood!”


A collective gasp came, and all stared at Thamuil. “Is this the truth?” said the king. The Elf smiled coldly and stared at the King, his eyes changing from deep blue to scarlet red. “You old fool. Of course it is!” And the evil one emitted a malign force that stopped everyone’s heart cold. Elendil gasped and fell over, clutching his ears, as though to stop the Evil that had penetrated into his soul.

“Fell One, your very presence contaminates the realm of Gondor!” screamed Tharanduil, his heart hammering in spite of the bravery of his words. “Leave! Return to your Dark realm of Mordor!” People held each other in terror as the Dark Lord Sauron elevated himself from the ground in a display of his power.

“Not until I claim my bride,” he said. In a flash, he was beside Raella, and took the screaming girl in his arms. “Unhand her, Fell One!” came a new voice, and Isildur sprang up, his father’s sword Narsil in his hand. “Who do you think you are, human, to challenge my power?” he laughed. Raising his hand, an energy beam emerged and threw the Crown Prince across the hall. The palace guards snapped out of their terror and rushed to Isildur’s aid.

“Let me go! I will be no bride to Evil! Let me go!” Raella screamed, trying in vain to escape Saran’s grasp. “Hush my love,” he said in such a gentle voice that Raella stopped struggling. “I have searched long for you, and I shall not give you up.” Sauron turned to Tharanduil and Elrond, courage and fear in their eyes. “Tell your Goddess, that the time has come for Middle Earth to be mine. Tell Loralia, the False Wench of Elves that her time is over!”

As he spoke, a Shadow moved across the room, dimming the daylight and casting the room into darkness. The Shadow rested on the Dark Lord and Raella. “Sauron! War shall be upon you for this! We will destroy your vile land until the Princess is found!” yelled Elendil, recovering from his attack.

The Dark Lord didn’t reply, and Raella turned to look at Vara, who was sobbing in fear. Through her tears, Vara saw her friend’s calm face, and in the deepest depths of her soul, she knew she would never see her again.

“Goodbye, dear friend,” she said, and watched as the Shadow engulfed them and disappeared, taking them to the Black realm of Mordor.

[Boo]

Raella awoke in a dimly lit bedroom, and became aware of the silk gown she wore. “Why is it so dark?” she wondered as she walked around the room. Finding the door, she tried to pull it open, but she found that it was locked. Out of nowhere came the sound of orcs. Paling, Raella thrust open the one window, and before her eyes were thousands of the vile creatures and the fires of Bharad-Dùr, the heart of Mordor.

Raella gasped as the events in Minas Tirith came flooding back. How long had it been since her capture? Days? Weeks? Months? Or had it been mere hours? However long it had been, she knew she had to get out somehow. “I cannot linger,” she said to herself in the dark. “There must be some way I can escape.”

“There is no way.”

Raella turned around, and before her stood the Dark Lord Sauron himself. She screamed in terror and backed away into a corner. “Let me out, Vile One! I will be no bride to Evil!” “Raella,” he began, and his voice was softer, gentler, more...human. “Please, do not fear me. I will not harm you.” Sauron tried to reach for her, but she screamed so loudly he backed away.

“Do you not remember me, my love?” he said. Raella shook her head, confusion on her face, instead of horror. With a sigh, Sauron stood still, and before her eyes the armour seemed to melt away. She turned her face away, fearing to see the monster within. A hand took her on her feet, and a voice in her head told her to open her eyes. They fluttered open, and Raella’s prepared screams died away at what she saw.

Sauron looked exactly like her Thamuil had, but his hair more golden, and his eyes were bluer and held an age-old wisdom in them. He wore an Elven robe that shone like a new born star. Smiling, he took her hand and placed it on his cheek. And memories came flooding back like a torrent. Memories of Paradise, splendour and love.

“Helrain!” she said, and with a low cry she hid herself in his embrace. “But...what happened? How is it that I came to be human?” Helrain, former Elven God, told her of his banishment, and how he rescued her from exile, and reincarnated her in the form of a Gondor Princess.

“A thousand years have passed since I last saw you. You are still so fair, so perfect.” “And so are you, my love,” Eirone sighed. “But...you are Felled, Marred! Yet not a blemish I see on you.” Pain etched across his face, and he turned away. “I am Marred, Eirone, but in spirit! They....they lessened me! They took my very divine essence, what makes me a God! I am a Mortal now, though I be powerful, and should I die, my soul shall be cursed to Hèl!”

Eirone listened, and fury welled up in her heart. How little mercy the Gods had shown him! They had taken his very being, and left him with the cold, bitter dread of mortality. And for what? For his love. For his love, he had been driven by the False Goddess Loralia to rage, and for his rage he had been banished. And what of her, who would have been damned also, for refusing the advances of the lecher Neofald?

“They shall pay, my love,” she whispered. “They shall pay with the lives of their children for what they have done to us. We shall make them pay.” Helrain turned around, the expression on his face unreadable. “Yes, dear one, we shall make them pay.”

He lifted his right hand, so she could see the golden ring on his finger. “Remember once, that you were to be a mere Ring Spirit? No more, for with this Ring, I shall make you above all the other Ring Spirits.”

“Above?” she asked, confusion written on her face. “Yes, love,” he replied eagerly, taking her hand. “This is the One Ring, which I have forged in secret on Mount Orodruin, which men call Mount Doom. With this Ring, all the other Rings of Power shall fall into its darkness, and Middle Earth will be covered in Shadow for eternity.”

“But as yet, it is a mere golden band. I need you, my love, to be the Spirit of this Ring. You will regain your power, and much more! Together we shall rule this world. I will be God of Middle Earth, and you shall be my Queen.” Eirone’s breath quickened, her heart racing. Smiling, Helrain whispered to her.

“For is that not what you have dreamed of, my love? Power? Control? Have you not wanted to be a Goddess for so long?” Eirone nodded. “I will make you tempting. None shall be able to resist your power, and Men will be easily trapped by you...Neofald will rue the day he dared to lay a hand on you.” Eirone’s eyes narrowed as she recalled the memory, the anger still hot within her.

“What is your choice, my dear?” he asked. Eirone looked at him intensely, and said, “I choose you, love.” Without another word, she took his face to hers and kissed him. Helrain grasped her hands to his right hand, and many things happened at once.

A Shadow passed from the Fell God to Eirone, and completely damned her soul. She gasped in horror as her purity was lost, but soon relished the Darkness that engulfed her. Helrain stopped the kiss, and knew that the transformation was complete. The white silk she had worn was now midnight black. Her hair was glowing like flame, and her eyes were the colour of deep emeralds. Her skin was paler, and her very being surged with power. She was even more beautiful than ever.

The Dark Lord took his gaze off Eirone and at the Ring on his finger. The symbols leapt out and glowed blood red with power.

“IT IS DONE!!” he cried out, and all of Mordor heard the triumphant cry, and they shrieked as one voice, so all across the West, the people heard it and trembled, wondering what calamity had befallen them.

[Boo]

(If you've survived for this long, you are exceptionally brave. I skim through this...thing that I wrote and cringe...it's nearing the end, don't worry...):

In Lothlorien, the spirit of Nenya stirred within the Ring of the Elf Queen Galadriel. She perceived her sister’s soul engulfed by Shadow. “NO!” she cried, and such was her horror that Galadriel perceived also the completion of the One Ring, and she fell in a wave of fear.

Celeborn rushed to her side, as did Elrond, who had gone to Lothlorien to tell of the kidnapping of Princess Raella. “Galadriel! What is it? What ails you?”

Galadriel’s eyes opened, but they were blank, and she stared ahead of the Elf men, and spoke in the voice of Prophecy, and she told of the doom that would soon befall Middle Earth:

“Hias-ta! Quetes Ilfin romain:
Corma tu rien te.”<br>
“Corma tu vien, Corma tu tien te.
Huines senutien.
Tercanonu ruva..”<br>
“Tu vien Corma tultiente.
Huienes senutien.
Corma tu rien te Corma!”<br>
“Ash nazg durbatulûk,<br>Ash nazg gimbatul.
Ash nazg thrataulûk,<br>Agh burzim-ishi krimpatul”<br>
“Over the land lies the Shadow.
Westward it reaches
On Wings of Darkness.”<br>
“The Tower trembles
To the Tomb of Kings.
Doom approaches...”<br>
“Out of the Black Years
Come the words.
The Herald of Death.
Listen-it speaks to
Those who were not
Born to die.”<br>
“One Ring to rule Them all,
One Ring to find Them.
One Ring to bring them all
And in the Darkness bind them.”<br>