LOTR: Epochs Of Immolation

Prologue

And the glow of the One Ring gave of a powerful greed— the unrelenting desire grasped into a full ring of a moon traced in gold, the markings of true work and eternal calamity at the hands of an overlord of the ages. Ring that belongs to the true lord of darkness....chaos....and damnation brought to the surface. His eye's caught the reflection of the ring's glint, devouring the cold touch and power that would soon bring forth his reign.
Annatar sighed, resting his fingers onto it, as if to softly caress and admire every little detail. His lips parted, passing the simple words in a mist, "It is done." and with that....so ended man kind.
The next day....was when Sauron came to him, with a fair form that would read prosperity. It granted him an identity of truth and justice. A false guise, that would coerce many to obey him. Valiant tresses of platinum satin, permanently flowing with pride. Those before him, elves of Eregion assuaged by none other than his tongue; Noldorian. The taste of the word casted a bitter taste, that would turn into triumph at his behest. Dwarves peacefully embarking future in the economy of the followers of the famed and venerated Fëanor. And so his linneage....would be left to none other than, the last:

"Bright Lord, someone has come to see you."

The doors laid it's passage unto Annatar, leading a clear path into the large throne. Ah and what of this? An elf of course. Who else to expect? Not Galadriel, nor Celeborn oh no no...but...distinct. With a look of seriousness his grey eyes tried evidently to pierce through him, but these eyes were far too strong. With a coerced voice, he would let out a greeting that could not deny loyalty. "Good evening...Lord Celebrimbor."
A dark head of hair, lied at the shoulders, adorned by the silver crown around the elf's forehead, signified rule. The Noldor lied at the throne, lazily laid into a relaxed idle pose. His shoulders rested along the arms of his seat of prestige supporting his head; and was without a response. The eyes still lied heavily on Sauron, fixated. A smile played on 'Annatar's' lips, giving way to mistrust and a terrible curiosity at first glance. A bent knee still lay onto the ground of the castle, in a genuflect. 'Annatar' lifts his head up with a deep smile that could be seen as that of a sadist, had it not been for the appearance of a fair elf; one that hailed from a land of great fortune. "I come with knowledge to bestow upon Gwaith-i-Mírdain, if you would so let me, my name is Annatar. I offer my gifts to you, from far away in the holy lands of Valar as an Emissary." His words caused shock in Celebrimbor. It would strike as odd and misleading, despite his present posture.
This could be seen greatly in the eyes of Sauron. Manipulation was not far from the bridle, that he carried. "Annatar is it?" Celebrimbor's interests in Valar was great indeed. Coming from such a man as this, so suddenly.

"How may the Lord of Gifts be of service at this fine hour?" He answers Celebrimbor.

The introduction was enough. "What is it that you want to bestow upon us?" He asks the Vanyar, seeking solace in the words Annatar spoke.

"What else—But my aid?"

Words were no longer needed

Sauron

From then on, Celebrimbor had taken every single instruction passionately. Blindingly. His passion for his own works, were to be his downfall, and I...simply had to play the role of a trusted ally. With the strikes of ember with the mithril hammer, three of which rings were to be created into existence: Narya, Nenya, and Vilya....six lesser rings....and nine of man. Celebrimbor....you..."Master smith! Truly your work is something to be praised and renown across all the lands. With this, we can help middle earth. Peace will sustain us all."...are a fool. Foolish are the smiths of Eregion. Celebrimbor, you are no different. "For the greater good." Valiance will only get you murdered....and so it shall. A friendship that marked the ages useless...now for a new one, that shall behold my glory....and with this I create the final ring. A hidden secret beyond that of those who dabbled in my place. Far more greater, and malignant, than the Three ring of elves "Aulë does us a great favor." He says, wiping the sweat from his forehead with a brazen grin on his face. The blood of the smith surely does flow through his veins. "And that of a craftsmen like yourself; it seems you are favored by him." Celebrimbor refuted the comment:"Do not take those words so lightly, Annatar. I am but another that has fallen victim to the crafts beauty and potential. An artisan of steel." He would say this while holding the ring in place by the metal tongs, as the plate had died down from the heat of magma. Raising it onto Celebrimbor's lips, he blew a gentle breeze turning it round and there the red gem had been placed at the very center and there in lies the first ring of creation. "Narya." his voice was entranced by it's radiance. "This ring, will do wonders, Lord of Gifts—this—is the future." "I'd say you display qualities to that of a dwarf, obsessed with his own dealings in the 'arts'" "And I now know why(they are)"

It didn't take long enough to perfect Narya. While the other smiths were forging lesser rings, Celebrimbor made sure to put work into Nenya—second ring—to be commanded by the elves.

"I see." I move on the other side of the anvil next to Celebrimbor. Just as my hands were graced by the beauty of the ring, satisfaction enveloped my gaze. "And a beauty...she is."

Ah, to touch the demise at my fingertips is a feeling—of true—blessing.

The door opened interrupting the moment's current bliss. Who would dare ruin such a thriving moment, and soil it with bitter words of a beggar, pleas of burning children and women?

"Lord Celebrimbor, your daughter's beloved friend was found up and about in the armory? She was found slacking guards, after having rummaged through most of the weaponry, and 'playing'" Oh. It's that. "And who else but the fruit of my loins, that I love and cherish so deeply." Just a piece of nothing. Causing trouble, and ruining precious time. The child stood at both of our feet. I bend down, pulling the child into an embrace as a faux loving father figure. Oh how I wanted to squeeze and squeeze her until the breath wheezed out of her longs and her eyes popped out of their sockets and spine cracked to pieces. But—that would just be cruel.

I let go of the cur, allowing her foolish behavior to slide. "You shouldn't be in there, don't let another word of this get to me or you are to wait outside of the castle."

"But I wish to see, can I not have that? It is so boring just sitting here and waiting for nothing to happen."

"Do not raise your voice to me Baralindes. It'll be your last warning."

"You are too harsh on her," Celebrinbor takes it all not to heart. His laughs prove it all. It was evident by the way he approached the girl, kneeling down and disheveling her hair. It was a smile like no other. "She takes pride in the art of war. Tell me what is your weapon of choice?"

"Celebrimbor you are..." stopping to inhale a deep breath of air to restrain the amount of insults I had awaiting to describe this buffoon. "...too kind."
"I prefer the Halberd. But, it's too heavy for me as of yet." A fowl look displayed on Baralindes' countenance.
"Halberd? That might be a weapon to bold for you at your height, perhaps you may never grow into it."
Baralindes pouted at his words be that something the girl did not wish to hear. "But do not worry, I can teach you yet. After all an elven's body possess a great capacity to learn and adapt."

"If you are done trying to get my daughter into an early grave, Celebrimbor?"

"Nonsense...." He averted his eyes from me and back to the girl again. "Do you like smithing, little girl? You can watch the two of us make the second ring on the morrow, if you'd like?"