... and I still hear the sound of shattering swords, I still see the empty eyes of the fallen warriors, I still hear their screams on the wind for I am one of the ancient race, summoned by the scars of time
Once I had risen amongst the Nine through a spell of cast behind the shadowwalls of Minas Morgul. Nazgul, hunters of the night, damned to search for the One, even death cannot take this heritage from me.
I still roam the mighty forest of Neldoreth, like Carcharoth did in ancient times, feeling eternal emptiness inside. Like in thousands of nights before I look up to the starless skies above, where once Glaurung ruled in a silhouette of fire, and again I feel endless torture – I have failed...