Prologue

The vast reaches of Middle Earth, were now ruled by men. With the dwarves living in their newly claimed caves and the elves gone westward across the sea, Middle Earth now belonged to men. With the great king Aragorn, nothing stood in their way once the elves were gone. The great forests of Galadriel were claimed along with the halls of Rivendel. From his mighty throne in Minas Tirith, king Aragorn and his elven queen, Arwen, ruled over all these lands now, with no danger lurking about them. But lately there was something strange happening in the Grey Mountains near Dale. Many riders were disappearing and the dwarves stopped sending in merchants or traders. This troubled Aragorn and his counselors. As the Nùmernòrean king sat on his throne surrounded by his counselors, the doors of his halls opened slowly and an unknown man walked in staggering from side to side. After a few steps the man tumbled to his right and lay on his back with his eyes to the ceiling. Aragorn ran to his side; he smiled when he saw his king's face. The man was wounded and his entire body was stained with blood.

"My lord..." the man whispered in a voice that declared his life was almost spent.

"Who has done these things to you?" Aragorn demanded.

His mouth formed the words "orcs" and then even slower "mountains", but no sound came from his mouth. The man's heavy panting ceased and his eyes remained frozen on his king. Aragorn turned to his friends and said:

"I have most disturbing news, for you."

"My lord?" a soft voice came from the open doors of the king's hall. Arwen was standing in a long gown starring at her husband; her body still showed the beautiful young age that had mystified so many. Her true age could only be made out if one were to look deep in her eyes where all her ancient wisdom could be seen. When her eyes discovered the corpse of the dead messenger, the elven maiden gasped and starred demandingly at Aragorn.

"It seems that orcs have recaptured the Grey Mountains to the north." The entire royal cabinet was struck stupid by the Nùmernòrean's words. This was a grey day for the new world of men. The dwarves had a very strong city in the Grey Mountains along with some of their best warriors. Aragorn had been there many times and saw with his own eyes the amazing fortifications of Cered'brim.

"But how can that be?" one of the counselors finally asked.

Aragorn shook his head and spoke: "Either the orc army was immense, which I doubt..."Aragorn paused in mid-sentence and thought, forgetting his curious cabinet.

"Or?" Arwen asked timidly.

"Or there is something else aiding the orcs." Aragorn finished sinking into thought once again. All the counselors sank into their chairs and raised a hand to their brows. They lay in silent thought for a few minutes; suddenly an old memory struck Aragorn. He remembered Moria and the battle at Khazad-dûm; that Maiar could have been enough to destroy the dwarf city of Cered'brim especially if it was aided by a few hundred orcs. Aragorn had feared for years that the orcs were hiding somewhere underground strengthening their numbers, but his mind never concocted the idea of another Maiar ruling over them. Aragorn walked slowly to his throne, stroking his short, grey beard. If his thoughts were correct, it would have been worse than ten thousand orcs. The only way to defeat these dark angelic creatures would be to use sorcery, like Gandalf had done when he smote the Maiar of Moria.

Aragorn cursed in his head all the dark creatures in the world for breathing. The only way to make sure his dreadful hunch was right, would be to attack the now orc city of Cered'brim. There has to be a better way, Aragorn thought desperately. Aragorn thought of another problem now; the world of men had lived peacefully for sixty years, and most had not been raised like their forefathers with fear of attack or with the skills of wielding a sword. The king of Gondor cursed his predicament again, and his head ached from his desperation and useless plans of attack. Suddenly a somewhat brighter idea came into Aragorn's head and he rushed of his throne towards the tower above them. Once there, the king starred cautiously at the pedestal lain in the middle of the white marble tower. The Palantír lay in front of him; its perfectly round shape and misty insides were intriguing. But Aragorn did not travel to this tower to admire the handiwork of his ancestors. He grasped the hard sphere in his hands and hoping with all his hear that his dreadful theory was wrong, he said:
"Show me the city of Cered'brim." The misty insides of the Palantír began to swirl around and were soon replaces with the image of many working orcs, and fiery creatures of darkness, which Aragorn recognized as the Balrogs of old. But the Palantír showed him something else as well. Upon a gigantic throne of stone lay a monstrous figure clad in an armor of steel that completely covered him. His eyes were glowing red on the inside of his huge helmet. Suddenly that creature of pure evil and malice waved its arm, which would smite a hundred men at once, and Aragorn was thrown on his back.

"Good Creator, what in Your holy name was that?" Aragorn's head now hurt even more than before and his heart would be hurt even more after he would be forced to tell his people what they were about to face. Or better yet, what was about to end their lives. Why were his people cursed to always fight for their lives?

"Aragorn!" Arwen rushed to him, when she saw her husband on the cold floor. "Your eyes bare so much despair...What did your fathers' Palantír tell you my love."

"That my people will never breathe the free air again, if they will breathe at all." Aragorn said in a blank voice starring at the setting sun. His wife held his head to her breast and Aragorn embraced her back. "Sleepless nights await us dear wife."

"Be calm my lord and tell me what you saw." Arwen pleaded, her eyes turning watery.

"I do not know what it was and where the good Earth spat out something like this." Aragorn began. "The mighty Balrogs themselves were at its mercy. The fiery eyes which hid beneath its giant steel helmet could have frozen an entire army with terror. And power..." Aragorn now turned to Arwen and starred her in her sea blue eyes. "When it waved its hand I was thrown on my back. Sauron would have pleaded mercy from this collection of malice." He could now feel Arwen's hands trembling on his cheeks. Her mouth stood open and her mind was aghast with horror.

Tears rolled down the elven maiden's cheeks as she said: "Our doom is upon us."

"Arwen, do you know of this new terror?" Aragorn whispered to her, placing his palms under her jaw bone, and directing her face towards his own. "What has stricken the glee from my lady's complexion?"

She now starred him in the eyes as she did before, only this time her eyes were white with terror, and Aragorn's filled with pleading tears. "Yes my lord, Aragorn, I have heard if this terror. But it is not at all new. It roamed and terrorized this earth before my kind even arrived here. And then it twisted and tormented some of my ancestors until they were turned into his instruments of war, and the ancient light that shone in their eyes was replaced by fear and depression. My proud ancestors were kidnapped and turned into the orcs that you know today, by this ancient darkness. By Melkor..."