The Lord of the Nazgûl takes to the air upon the Winged Fell Beast over the dark skies of Mordor
Darkness lay within the valley of terror in the Land of Shadow. Barad-dûr stood sentinel over the Plain of Gorgoroth as the foul beast was led out from the Iron Gate of the Dark Tower.
Fitted with reign, stirrup and saddle, the winged creature screamed in the night.
A figure cloaked all in black with a crown of iron and steal approached Fell Beast and stood before it, swaying slightly in the darkness. Morgul spells were spoken in the Black Speech and so the winged creature came under the control of the Lord of Nazgûl.
This dreadful cranion beast was wicked, terrible and cruel!
It was a winged creature naked and scaled, whose vast pinions were as webs of hide between horned fingers. It’s breath was foul and it’s hide stank. The winged creature was neither bird nor reptile, but something was greater than both, A creature of an older world maybe it was, whose kind, lingering in forgotten mountains cold beneath the Moon, outstayed their day, and in hideous eyrie bred this last untimely brood, apt to evil. And the Dark Lord took it, and nursed it with fell meats, until it grew beyond the measure of all other things that fly; and he gave it to his servant to be his steed. This fell beast like his master, was ferocious, deadly, and cruel.
The Lord of the Nazgûl mounted the great winged beast. He stood up upon the stirrups and taking the reins into the palm of his gantlet, called upon the beast to fly. With a chilling scream of command, the fell beast spread its vast sinuous pennon and caught the deadly air of Gorgoroth. Lifting itself upward into the nocturnal skies, the black rider on wings began to spiral upward toward the summit of Barad-dûr.
Shadows swirled about the Dark Tower and the Great Eye, lidless and wreathed in flame looked out upon the fell beast as it took t0 the skies over Mordor. There was eager anticipation in that deadly gaze and a will to dominate all life.
The Witch-king of Angmar, the Lord of the Nine, lifted his sword into the skies as lighting flashed and thunder rumbled across the dark plain of Gorgoroth. As he lifted his blade, flames ran down it’s length like blood. Mount Doom answered with it’s own fiery exhalation and the ground below shook with the terrible fury of it’s eruptions.
Eight more of these creatures waited on the plain below and one by one they were mounted and ridden into the dark skies over Mordor. Each of the Nine Nazgûl were gifted with a fell beast and as they took to the air, the horror and fear they instilled was increased nine-fold. There was no force left in Middle-earth that could withstand their deadly power.
The Nine black winged shapes circled the Dark Tower of Barad-dûr, the Eye of Sauron burned with a lust for war and the screams of the Nazgûl filled all the lands with a dreadful terror.
The time for the final war was coming and soon the Dark Lord’s most deadly servants would be unleashed upon the West.