Far to the east, in the depths of Khazad-dûm, the Great Door groaned. Prince Durin IV stood before a vein of Mithril that glowed with a ghostly light. His father warned of digging too deep, but the rings promised the Dwarves wealth that would never end.
The sun set over the golden forests of Lindon, but for Elrond , the beauty of the Second Age felt like a fragile glass about to shatter. Below, in the hidden workshops of Eregion, the forge-fires of Celebrimbor burned with an intensity that rivaled the stars. Il.Signore.Degli.Anelli-Gli.Anelli.Del.Potere.S...
As the first Three Rings were cooled in spring water, a different fire was rising in the Southlands. In the cracks of Mount Doom, a master ring was being forged in secret—one to bind the others, one to turn the Elves' desire for beauty into a golden cage. Far to the east, in the depths of
(like the island kingdom of Númenor)
But Elrond saw a shadow in the corner of the forge—a stranger calling himself Annatar, the "Lord of Gifts." Annatar’s eyes didn’t reflect the fire; they seemed to drink it. While the Elves crafted rings to preserve and heal, Annatar spoke of order and the absolute power needed to maintain it. The sun set over the golden forests of
The wind changed. The birds of Lindon flew south in fear. The Age of Peace was over; the Great Deception had begun. If you'd like to take this story further, I can: