A sickness lay across the plateau,
the air foul with the fumes from the mountain,
Life so long ago no memory exists of it,
a shadow creeps across the heart of those who walk the plains,
bringing rumor of fell beasts in the sky,
An eye burns in the distance,
tireless it searches,
sight reaching beyond the fortress of barad-dur,
and as far as the black gate.
Past the dark lands of Isenmouthe,
beyond the toxic waters of Núrn,
lies the land of the fallen,
where only evil hearts tread,
of creatures only darker then the sky itself.
Stepping out of your door is serious business,
for one path leads to every other
and some paths better be left alone
so wanderer be weary,
lest thy walk into the plains of gorgoroth.