The air was thick with screams and the smell of blood as Khamul parried the clumsy spear thrust, reversing his sword to decapitate his attacker with one smooth stroke.

Haradrim. These cowards do not have the courage to fight their enemies openly.

He had been leading his men back from the Sea of Rhun when they ambush had struck as the passed through a narrow valley, the Haradrim striking without warning. But, for all their numbers and ferocity, they were no match for the skill of the Easterlings. Although the fighting was fierce, they had managed to cut their way out of the valley, forcing the Haradrim to come to them on the open field. Another Haradrim ran screaming at Khamul, his scimitar raised above his head and he smiled behind his golden helmet.

This will be too easy...

As the man reached him, he dropped flat with one hand breaking his fall, his leg sweeping out to take the man off his feet. Before the Haradrim could react, Khamul sprang back to his feet and thrust his sword down through his neck. Turning, he spotted a man on horseback a few metres away, his bald head adorned with the tattoo of a scorpion. As he watched, he drew back his curved bow and shot an Easterling in the neck, his hand tightening on his sword hilt as the warrior fell.

Mus'ab.

His eyes narrowed and he advanced towards him, spinning his sword from his right hand to his left as Mus'ab reloaded his bow.

Time to finish this...

Pain blossomed in his shoulder and he looked down to see an arrow buried in his flesh. Gritting his teeth, he pulled it out and cast it aside as he continued towards Mus'ab, a wave of dizziness making his knees buckle and he slumped forward. Struggling to raise his head, he saw Mus'ab raising his bow again, with a cruel sneer. The bow twanged as he released the arrow and...

...Khamul woke with a strangled gasp. His body was soaked with sweat and his head pounded. Sitting up, he glanced down at his shoulder where the faint scar of the arrow wound could still be seen. Pushing back the sheets, willing his legs not to shake, he stood up and grabbed his sword, managing to curl his fingers around it. The pain almost made him cry out, but he bit his lip, raising the blade to shoulder height and he swung. Fire stabbed along his arm and the blade clattered to the floor, Khamul dropping to his knees next to it, clutching at his shoulder. Then, he heard footsteps and a man pushed aside the curtain and stepped into the room, Khamul coming to his feet, pulling a knife from his belt.

'What is the meaning of this? No man may enter my chambers without leave.'

'I am no man, Khamul the Easterling.' The figure replied as he stepped into the light, revealing himself to be a tall man, fair of face and with proud bearing. However, it was his eyes that caught Khamul's attention, so black that they might have been two voids into the abyss. 'And I have come to offer that which you greatly desire.'

'And what is that?' Khamul asked.

'Your strength and pride returned to you, as well as the power to be revenged against your enemies.'

He opened his hand, revealing a gold ring set with a blue gem that seemed to glow with an inner light.

'Take the Ring.' The stranger said and Khamul hesitated before reaching out and slipping it onto his finger. As soon as he did so, he felt the power blaze through him and he glanced down at his shoulder where the wound was already healing. As the surge faded, he picked up his sword, the blade slicing through the air like the wind.

'Who are you?' He asked and the stranger stepped closer.

'My name', he said 'is Sauron...'