a u 。l o s t t h i n g s

[lordof]

With the destruction of the One Ring came the fall of Barad-dur. With the fall of Barad-dur came the fall of Sauron, and all servants he professed to claim as his. The Ringwraiths scattered, no longer bound; but not all were willing to leave. Some haunted the lands of Mordor. Others returned to what lands they called 'home' and became myths, legends. Bed-time horror stories.

Yet there was one other thing that Sauron had made, one other little thing that held a glimpse of his powere, that allowed the Wraiths to linger as they did. So it was that on the day of Sauron's defeat, a host of cats in the southern lands let up a yowl and fled. Some ultimately returned to their homes, none worse for wear. Others vanished completely, and none know what happened to them.



Many, many leagues away, a sooty cat-like creature crawled amongst the Barrow-down wights. If ever they had been a nuisance to travelers, lately they would have seemed even more so, more diligent and stronger. Darker.

It would not last. The creature had come to take back what it had previously given away.