Poised to strike, her many-eyed visage glowing with a malevolent gleam, Shelob towered over a small, trembling form. The helpless hobbit stood dwarfed beneath her vast, bloated figure, unaware of the vile fate soon to befall upon him within the jagged rocky paths of the creature’s domain. Another poor soul, caught within her venomous grasp; prey for her insatiable hunger.
Awakened from deep slumber by the innocent rippling of a cast stone, it extended its many slimy appendages, slithering slowly to ensnare its soon-to-be meal. Long forgotten though it may be, its gaping, toothy maw harboured no less peril, and hunger had only stoked its desire to feast upon flesh, now scarce. Yet, something about one of the smaller ones beckoned to it, beyond mere instinct to consume, something it coveted. As the group was distracted, the lake stirred, and the Watcher in the Water struck.
Driven to the brink of madness by the merciless lashings of its vile Orc overlords, there lumbered forth a Cave Troll, a behemoth of dim wits yet endowed with the strength of a legion. Its skin was nigh impervious to weapons forged of iron, a testament to the unforgiving nature of the dark places of the world where it dwelt. Clutched within its colossal three-fingered grasp was a mighty stone hammer, a fearsome instrument of destruction that it wielded with blind fury.
Lady Galadriel, the illustrious guide of her kin across the eons, valiantly waged war against the encroaching shadows of malevolence, and provided steadfast counsel to myriad illustrious figures. Now, in the waning days of her enduring sojourn in Middle-earth™, she readies herself for the pilgrimage to the Undying Lands. With a regality that mirrors the loftiest splendours and a resilience befitting the mightiest and fairest of all the Elves, she embarks upon her homeward journey.
Deep within the heart of Mount Doom, where the heat of the flame saturates the air, thick like the very magma it erupts from, lies the Dark Lord's forge: Sammath Naur. Here, within the Cracks of Doom, Sauron wove his dark magic to craft a weapon from the very fires of the earth itself—a weapon meant to dominate all of Middle-earth.
