Then the most terrible of terrible things happened. The dark tower drew a deep sigh as it bellowed from the deepest trench of it's heart that neither burned nor lived. The ring fell into oblivion of the fire that flowed with the lament issued out of the cries of elves, dwarves, men and wizards, in the wicked labryinth of Mount Doom- where no mortal dream, inspiration, suffering and pain can survive its carnivorous pinnacle of its teeth . This fire had grown over by nurturing on the flesh of them. The only kind that it never tasted was that of a hobbit for it thought them to be too meek to yeild strength and too week to draw swords of brandishing power. And what an iron of an irony destiny speaks- now the only thing that it gets from the smallest hobbit is a finger! (of course, along with its precious ring- so true!)

The Tower falleth!

Chapter I : The Love of The Eye!

Oh what fate I suffer- challenged by the challenged of all!
For all this creature (Hobbit) in this Earth should know
Is to figure out tricky ways to grow tall!

And then they would drink and dance- uncared for a word of the world
Whilst my soul takes refuge, as my body fell loose
When Isildur shaves my arm off... with his aluminium sword!

"Damn" I whistled, for I cursed my food
Devoid of nutrition, my orc cook would cook.

I paid them with salaries,
That matched the ones of the rich
But still they stole my meal...
A great deal of Protein!

But ah! what a day it was...
When the first of all I behold the Galadriel
Alone in her garden- blessed with the sun,
Playing Tournament- Unreal!

Oblivious of the times when Sun yet not born,
When Roses pleased the lover as he touched no thorn,
And clouds bore the colours of the winters time,
And meadows float between the ocean's divide.

But yet behold the gem- before whom I kneel
So distant, so close- oblivious to all
The sole and silent- the beauty, Galadriel.