If I owned LotR, I would have issued a definitive statement on whether or not Balrogs have wings and how many Glorfindels there have been, and made a lot of money. I've done none of those things, so it's obviously not mine.

Black Speech

Translated Black Speech

Dol Guldur.

Hill of Dark Sorcery.

The name itself was far from pleasant, and the reality much less so. Dark and brooding, it loomed over Mirkwood. To the Wise who had gathered there, it felt like a pulsing beacon of evil, which indeed it was. Usually, it was a silent place, quiet as the grave. Today, though, the sound of combat echoed through the woods. Glorfindel, Elladan, Elrohir, and Haldir led a company of Galadhrim into battle, swiftly overwhelming the Orcs and Wargs that had been stationed around the dark castle. As planned, the group fell back into the trees, and the Dark creatures followed, growling and howling. Dol Guldur was left practically undefended, but of course, none with sanity would ever enter that place willingly.

For the second, smaller group composed of two Maiar and two Elves that emerged from the trees, sanity was not a luxury any of them had at the moment.

"Círdan is unable come in time, and Thranduil is busy in the North. We must act now," Galadriel stated.

"Agreed," Elrond said. "Lord Radagast, were you able to make contact with Mithrandir?"

"Only for a moment," the Brown Wizard replied. "We were cut off mid-contact. I fear that the Enemy knows we are here."

"Then we must move quickly," Elrond stated.

"Radagast, you stay here," Saruman ordered. "Watch the tower, and when you see that He is distracted, you will come and retrieve Gandalf. Do you understand?"

"Yes, absolutely, Saruman," the Brown wizard nodded. "You can rely on me."

The expression on the White Wizard's face showed that he somewhat doubted the veracity of that statement, but he did not argue.

"Come, then," Saruman ordered, striding forward, the others behind him.

As he reached the arching gate, he attempted to step through. There was a flash, and the White Wizard was thrown back, landing in a crumpled heap.

He stood, anger burning in his deep-set eyes. "A shield," he stated. "The Enemy knew we were coming. But he shall not hinder our passage. Gandalf needs us."

Raising his staff, he began to mutter incantations under his breath, the jewel at the end glowing brightly, his deep, powerful voice booming through the trees. Radagast joined him, eyes fixed on the invisible barrier. The air in front of the castle shimmered and rippled, and a hole appeared, just wide enough for a Man-shaped being. Galadriel stepped through, but suddenly, the shield snapped back into place.

"He has grown powerful indeed," she noted. "I will go ahead and rescue Mithrandir. You two, follow me once you can."

With that, she set off fearlessly into the bowels of the lair of Sauron. Saruman, meanwhile, raised his staff in both hands, pointing it at the barrier. His deep, sonorous voice chanted words under his breath, and a beam of light flew from the tip of his staff, striking the barrier and shattering it.

"Come!" he ordered, and strode forward. Elrond followed, with a respectful nod to Radagast.

As the two moved through Dol Guldur, every sense on alert, they took in the dark walls, twisted spires, the echoes of pain and death, and the Darkness pervading every corner. Finally, they reached a twisting staircase, hewn roughly out of black rock.

"Where is she?" Elrond asked, looking around. "Mithrandir could be anywhere in this wretched place."

Just then, a ripple of light spread from up ahead, momentarily dispelling the darkness that had fallen over the place.

"I believe we have our answer," Saruman stated, striding forward once more, Elrond at his heels. Suddenly, a deep, threatening voice, containing malice and sadistic pleasure and pure hatred, could be heard, booming throughout the entire castle.

Shre nazg golugranu kilmi-nudu,
Ombi kuzd-durbagu gundum-ishi

"Sauron," growled the White Wizard. "Come!"

He redoubled his pace and strode up the stairs, Elrond following. Above, they reached a small platform, and in front of them a many-arched wall, as Sauron continued to gloat. Saruman gestured for Elrond to go through the arch on the left, while he went straight ahead. Elrond arrived first, drawing his sword as he took in, at a glance, the nine Nazgûl surrounding the perimeter of the room, Galadriel in the center, Mithrandir's head cradled on her lap, and the pulsating Darkness, stronger than ever now. Moments later, Saruman, too, arrived on the scene, leaning on his staff, face perfectly calm.

"Are you in need of assistance, My Lady?" he asked. Two of the Nazgûl leapt in to attack. Saruman looked from one to the other, not quite managing to hide the worry on his face.

"You should have stayed dead," Elrond stated, stepping forward. The Ringwraith next to him slashed, but he parried and stabbed the creature, and it disappeared in a flash of bright light. Saruman, too, lunged, blasting his two out of the way with a yell.

After that, everything dissolved into chaos. The two charged into battle, yelling, as the Nine raced in to attack. Only the skill and power of the warriors, one a Maiar, the other an Elven Lord and Ringbearer millennia old, kept them at bay.

In the midst of all the chaos, Galadriel leaned over the fallen Wizard.

"Mithrandir," she whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, reaching out to his battered, shielded mind with her own, bringing light into the darkness. After a few long moments, he gasped and opened his eyes.

"He is here," Gandalf gasped.

"Yes," she agreed, voice barely above a whisper. "The Darkness has returned."

Moments later, a cry of "Gandalf!" split the air, and Radagast arrived on the scene, pulled by his team of Rhosgobel rabbits.

"Gandalf! Climb on!" the Brown Wizard ordered, leaping off his sleigh.

"He is weak," Galadriel stated, gasping. "He cannot stay here. It is draining his life."

Radagast quickly helped his cousin aboard, then shouted to his team. "Go! Quickly!"

"GO!" she bellowed. Radagast's eyes widened in fear, and he whipped the reins, swiftly bearing the two of them away. Galadriel collapsed, momentarily spent, as Saruman and Elrond continued to fight around the perimeter of the open area. Saruman knocked one off the tower, and Elrond stabbed another in the back, the power of his Elven blade shattering the wraith's armor. For a few moments, all was silent and still. Keeping ready, Elrond backed over and knelt to check on the prone Lady of Light.

Just then, the top of the tower exploded, forming a fiery Eye that glared down at them. Both males shifted their weapons to ready position.

So it begins, the voice growled.

An image of the Necromancer himself, Sauron, appeared at the center, where the pupil would be, just as Elrond had seen him, three millennia ago. Around him rose the nine Ringwraiths, cloaked and hooded, ready to serve their new Master.

The East will fall. So shall the Kingdom of Angmar rise. The time of the Elves is over. The Age of the Orc has come.

Not while I have anything to say about it, Elrond thought, readying his blade for battle once more, Saruman behind him doing the same. But then he lowered it in awe, as the Lady Galadriel rose once more. But this was not Galadriel as he had known her for most of his life, the gentle, kind, and wise Queen of Lothlòrien. This was the Lady of Light, bearer of Nenya, one of the oldest and greatest of the Eldar, skin literally glowing with power. She raised her hand, containing both Nenya and the light of Earëndil, which smote the Eye, causing the flame to ripple and boil.

"YOU HAVE NO POWER HERE," the Lady of Light boomed, as the figure took on a more solid definition, and the Nazgûl vanished. "SERVANT OF MORGOTH."

Sauron growled and hissed, but her Light was enough to counter his Darkness. He flickered and glowed, fighting desperately against the puny Elf that dared to stand against him. Behind and beside her, Elrond and Saruman cowered.

"YOU ARE NAMELESS!" Sauron growled, his body, such as it was, glowing with flame.

"FORMLESS!"

He screamed in fury, flames rippling around him.

"GO BACK TO THE VOID FROM WHENCE YOU CAME!"

With that, unable to withstand her power any longer, the Enemy collapsed the ball of flame, hatred, malice, and Shadow, and was sent hurtling far to the East. Elrond staggered back, Saruman grabbed hold of his staff to support himself, and Galadriel, her power completely spent, tottered and would have fallen prone to the ground had not Elrond leaped to his feet and gently lowered her.

Outside, Gandalf and Radagast slowed to a halt, watching as the Enemy rumbled and disappeared behind the Ash Mountains.

"We were deceived," Elrond whispered to her in Sindarin. Huddled against him, Galadriel nodded weakly.

"The spirit of Sauron endured," she agreed. Nearby, Saruman leaned on his staff and regarded them thoughtfully.

"And has been banished," he added, moving forward and peering off to the Southeast.

"He will flee into the East," Galadriel whispered.

"Gondor should be warned!" Elrond said urgently. "They must set a watch on the walls of Mordor," he added, coming to stand beside the White Wizard.

"No," Saruman argued, looking down at Galadriel, still weak and weary. "Look after the Lady Galadriel. She has spent much of her power. Her strength is failing. Take her to Lothlòrien," he added, about as kindly as he ever got.

"My lord Saruman!" Elrond protested, holding to his mother-in-law's hand. "He must be hunted down and destroyed! Once and for all!"

I cannot allow the Enemy to continue to work his malice.

"Without the Ring of Power, Sauron can never again hold dominion over Middle-Earth," Saruman replied tartly. Beside Elrond, Galadriel shifted, gasping.

"Go now," the White Wizard ordered, in a voice of absolute authority. "Leave Sauron to me."

Shre nazg golugranu kilmi-nudu,
Ombi kuzd-durbagu gundum-ishi: Three Rings for the Elven-Kings under the Sky, Seven for the Dwarf Lords in their halls of stone

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