The date was March 25, 3019 of the Third Age. ‘All about the hills, the hosts of Mordor raged. The Captains of the West were foundering in a gathering sea.’
“Heh, heh, heh… They are so screwed.” Sauron chuckled to himself malevolently, observing the slaughter taking place before his Tower with morbid delight (which was about all he could do under the circumstances, given that his physical form consisted of little more than an oversized eyeball, albeit a flaming one).
However, at that moment, a shrill screeching rang through the Tower, and lights began flashing wildly. It was his “The One Ring is Within Twenty Feet of the Cracks Of Doom(!!!!!)” warning system, the Dark Lord realized with dismay. There had been drills before, but he was certain he had not scheduled one for today.
The voice of Nazgul # 3 (or was it # 7…?) echoed through the halls.
“Thiss iss not a drill. I repeat, thisss issss not a drill!”
‘And even at that moment all the hosts of Mordor trembled, doubt clutched their hearts, their laughter failed, their hands shook and their limbs were loosed. The Power that drove them on and filled them with hate and fury was wavering, its will was removed from them; and now looking into the eyes of their enemies they saw a deadly light and were afraid.’
High within his Dark Tower, Sauron had hovered in uncomprehending silence for a long moment. Then, suddenly, everything registered.
“Get off your lazy, nonexistent arse, and go get my Ring!” he screamed at the Nazgul. “NOW!“
‘Even as he* spoke the earth rocked beneath their feet’ (and/or fiery eyeballs). ‘Then rising swiftly up, far above the Towers of the Black Gate, high above the mountains, a vast soaring darkness sprang into the sky, flickering with fire. The earth groaned and quaked. The Towers of the Teeth swayed, tottered, and fell down; the mighty ramparts crumbled; the Black Gate was hurled in ruin; and from far away, now dim, now growing, now mounting to the clouds, there came a drumming rumble, a roar, a long echoing roll of ruinous noise.’
“Oh, isn’t that lovely,” said Sauron, “Just as I was on the verge of completely annihilating the free peoples of Middle Earth” (again), “too.”
…And the Dark Lord knew no more.
* * * * *
The hallway was completely silent. The bare white marble floors reflected the golden light that radiated from crystal spheres hanging on silver chains from the high ceiling. The walls of the corridor were adorned with vibrant tapestries, all depicting scenes from a famous battle. Near the end of the hall, in front of one of the tapestries, stood a dark-haired Elven-maid.
As she stood, she gazed up in thoughtful silence at the image that hung before her. It was a picture of a Man-Isildur, son of Elendil –wielding a broken sword. There was fear in his face, but also determination. The actions of this Man had brought an ending to the Second Age, and played an important role in the shaping of the Third.
Suddenly, the silence was broken by a shout from the far end of the hall.
“Ilmariel!” another Elf called out to the maiden, walking hurriedly towards her. “There you are!”
At the sound of his voice, Ilmariel turned away from the tapestry, and watched with mild curiosity as the other Elf approached. He looked excited.
“What is it, Amondin?” she asked.
“News from Middle Earth, Ilmariel. Wonderful news!” Amondin replied, his face beaming.
“Well,” said Ilmariel, “what is it?”
“The War of the Ring is over! The One Ring has been destroyed!”
“Wow …really?” Ilmariel asked, mild surprise in her voice.
“Yes!” Amondin exclaimed. “Sauron is defeated, forever!”
Ilmariel smiled briefly. “Hmm… That’s nice,” she said.
Amondin stared at her for a moment, as if waiting for her to say or do something, anything, that showed a bit more excitement. However, Ilmariel only stared back at him. After a moment, Amondin blinked a few times, turned, and began walking away, without another word.
*In ROTK, this is actually in reference to Gandalf.
Sections marked in ‘…’ are taken from “The Return of The King”, pages 927 & 928