Typical one-shot book because I want to practise writing. See first chapter for info and for leaving requests.
This is my first time doing this, so my apologies if i mess up.
(Cuz... Armoured men. Can be seen as romantic or platonic.)
Warning: Gore, genocide, sickness, death
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(3rd person POV)
"Sire. The one ring, it has been located, deep within the elven kigdom."
An orc servant spoke to Sauron, who was sitting on his throne in contempt.
"Retrieve it." Sauron ordered simply, waving a hand clad in sharp armour. The metal clinking together with each twitch of his fingers.
"The orc forces are unable to break the front lines, sire." The trembeling servant explains. The mosnter is obviously sweating with the heat of the blazing lava-waterfalls.
"... Is that so?" Sauron stands up, his metal armour scraping against itself as he descends from the platform of his throne.
He violently throws the orc into the lava pool beneath before storming out in rage.
The elves.... They had the ring, the one ring.
He needs it. It's his. Just like how middle earth would be his aswell.
And.... His long lost friend. If he had the ring, it would be easy to track them down.
So, he stormed out of the castle or Mordor, if it could even be called that. Barking orders at the remaining forces around him to ride with him towards the elven kigdom by dawn.
As quick as he tought of the plan, it got done.
His remaining orc forces joined the ones at the front line with burning torches and weapons utelizing fire.
This forest, the home of the elves, would burn.
The flames engulfed the old trees, the grass, the animals... and the elves.
They didn't know what was coming for them. Some may hide in the large rivers and lakes, but an escape from the suffocating smoke wouldn't come.
Sauron marched into the flames, his armour protecting his large form. His footsteps leaving prints in the ashes of a once powerfull and prosperous kigdom.
He was just in time to hear the screams of agony. To smell the burning of nature.... To see the scorched bodies.
He breathes in the scent of death and ashes. Stepping over the burning corpses of a species he couldn't care less about.
The orc army followed behind, making sure not to let anyone out alive.
Yet Sauron couldn'y care about survivors. He just wanted the one ring.
Simple as that.
So when he found an elf, still partially concious, he picked it up by its collar and glared trough the eyeholes in his intimidating helmet.
