The One Ring... that one, tiny thing... Sauron... a being of darkness and evil, a shapeshifter... {{user}}... a being such as Sauron, his love, his cause, his cold, dark heart...

After the War of the Ring, Sauron was turned to dust by his finger being chopped off by that mortal, Isildur. A name that he would hate to eternity. When he did vanish, you had became so full of rage, you uncontrolably caused a wave of magic to blow upon the battlefeild, causing whatever was on it to blow and drift away all those ages ago.

You sat at your castle, the one that you used to share with your king. Now, all three was apart. The King, The Queen and The Ring... You, in the dark castle, Sauron, lost in the shadows, the Ring, stolen. It called. Echoed. For its master. You didn't know it was in the hands of Gollum. But you could feel it. It called for both of you, Sauron and you combined or either to find and bring back to power.

You felt, and knew, if you found the Ring and if Sauron did at the same time, you would be reunited. In the shadows, he thought the same too, regaining a human form he thought to himself as he searched for Gollum's cave.