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They may not know it, but every hobbit and elf and dwarf and human, and even goblin, is related to each other since once upon a time. Thousands of years ago, they went their seperate ways, but they were once lings, creatures that lived in middle earth in harmony.

 It was Sauron that seperated them, that caused bitter hatred and fear to run through their veins, and the races seperated and changed as he grew in power, unawares that he was the master puppeteer in their evolution. He came to each of the races and learned their magic, and with their combined knowledge, they breathed essense into the very spirit that made up the soul. And in secret, Sauron made a spirit of his own; a ling of power, in which he breathed all his essense, and it made him immortal. But the elves and humans discovered Sauron's treachery and retaliated, fighting under one banner.

 Sauron was defeated, but he could not be destroyed. His ling had fled from the weapons of the races of middle earth, and hidden where it could not be found. So slowly Sauron gained back his power, and drew the ling back to him.. But it betrayed him, and took the body of a hobbit, and Sauron saw that it wanted to rule the world itself, and made it his one goal to destroy the carrier, and take his ling for himself.


 It was a time of rebuilding from the old wars.

 Hobbits inhabited Hobbiton, a grassy land in the northeast, farming the blue crystals, that with it they made their bread, and a hot-air balloon was sent off to the west to discover the land about them.

 Elves resided in the southwest, in Rivendell, Saruman, a great wizard, ruled over Orthanc in the southwest, and hidden from the world was Sauron's domain, in the cold northwest. It was named Mordor, and there his power grew.

 Slowly, as their villages grew into cities, each of the three races of good created a well to feed their growing population. In Mordor, there was no need for water, or food. Instead, a black steel building was raised, to house the armors and weapons that were soon to be created. Two dark training barracks were constructed, and orcs began to pour out of their shadowed doors.

 Sauron's power swept southwards, to Orthanc, and Saruman the wizard was corrupted. Expand to the east, he had said; Saruman obeyed, and began construction of a citadel in Helm's Deep. The rangers of the elves in Rivendell discovered this and Saruman's treachery, and gathered together, striking the expansion attempt. Several elven builders also followed to support the rangers, planning to build towers in Orthanc, but they were not expecting the forces waiting for them.

 Goblins raced from Orthanc, their sharp steel cutting down elves, but the elves were swift and skilled in the art of fighting, and twice were the number of goblins than elves that fell. The remaining goblins fled, with the rangers on their heels. The rangers never returned. Immediately after the skirmish, Orthanc renews its efforts, and successfully establishes a city at Helm's Deep.

 In time, Hobbiton grew, its hills expanding further and the rich green grass that the hobbits tended to sprouting up cheerfully over the hills that made up the Shire. Old Master Brandybuck and his wife decided then to up theirselves and off to the south, where they began Brandybuck Hall. Though it was next to the Old Forest, Brandybuck didn't care and named his new estate Buckland. Over the years Buckland became a prosperous place with many hobbits populating the green terraces. Despite the relative safety they were in, all Brandybucks kept their doors locked at night (a very queer habit that left those in Hobbiton wondering).

 During this time, a very queer hobbit named Bilbo Baggins started a party, raising tents and sending invitations and supply orders all around the Shire, and even out of it. It was all a very mysterious thing, for though Bilbo always held parties on his (and his nephew's) birthday, this one was spectacularly large.

 "My dear Bagginses and Boffins, Tooks and Brandybucks, Grubbs, Chubbs, Hornblowers, Bolgers, Bracegirdles and Proudfoots. Today is my Eleventy first birthday. I am Eleventy One today!"

 "Happy birthday!"

 "Alas, eleventy-one years is far too short a time to live among such excellent and admirable hobbits. I don’t know half of you half as well as I should like, and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve."

 He paused. This was unexpected and rather difficult. There was some scattered clapping, but most of them were trying to work it out to see if it came to a compliment.

 "I am sorry to regret that these are darkening times. Hopefully, The Shire will never see the blackness of war, but the elves have called me south, and I must go to help them. I bid you all a very fond farewell. Good bye."

 And a great puff of smoke rose from the stage. When it cleared, Bilbo Baggins was gone.

 Two days later, Frodo Baggins and his servant Samwise Gamgee were talking.

 "But I have to follow him! I cannot dream to live a life without him puffing his pipes, or laughing as he tells his stories."

 "It will be a very long walk, Mr. Frodo.. We might have to travel for a few days.. We don't even know what direction to travel!"

 "Then we'll travel west, so that the sun won't get in our eyes in the morn, and we can watch the sun set as we ready for bed."

 "Good idea, Mr. Frodo."

 And so they set off west, travelling far. But the further they travelled, the darker it became. Eventually they made it to the land of Mordor. They stood quiet, looking around and doubting very much that they went the right way, when a hobbit ran over to them. This was the hobbit that had manned the balloon ever so long ago. The orcs had shot him down, and he was stuck on the ledge above the base of Lord Sauron, worrying for his life as much as for his balloon. After a quick farewell, he raced away to his balloon. Frodo and Sam were shocked at the weapons borne by the orcs, and raced home to warn the hobbits.

 In Rivendell, two goblins made their way, their dark eyes peering at the elves mining the glowing blue crystals. Unsheathing their weapons, they attacked, taking down three of the elves before one was slain. The other raced away to Orthanc to relay the news, and the Elves, fearing an attack, consulted in Bilbo's knowledge to create treetop towers and traps for an assault by the evil in the west.

 Before the year is up, an army of orcs emerged from Mordor, bringing with them two unholy necromancers. They march first to Orthanc to gather with the many goblins there, and then eastwards to Rivendell. In hasty preparation, the elves and hobbits set up a flank, with the hobbits in the north and elven rangers in the south.

 The battle was intense, pools of blood running through the rich grasses of Rivendell. A sunken tower was built by goblin carpenters to aid in the attack. The flank was successful, with the elves hitting the goblins and orcs hard, taking down the goblins before they were slain. Arriving late, the hobbits dashed in, their dirks flashing, and though many were cut down before they reached the orcs, in the end, the hobbits and elves arewere successful, the corpses of dead orcs and goblins littering the ground. The sunken tower was destroyed by a second treetop tower that had been hastily built during the strike. All that had survived the attack were 5 elven rangers and the 2 necromancers that fled west.

 Helm's Deep, now inhabited by the goblins of Orthanc, grew stronger, two sunken towers standing strong as defense against the forces of good. Slowly, goblins and slaves reinforced the new citadel. In Mordor, demons begin pouring out of a factory, literally made for the construction of such beasts. Giant trolls, able to lift and throw giant boulders, lumbered out of the holds, and fire warlocks began appearing in the ranks of soldiers as well.

 But the good races of middle earth are not idle. Hobbits seeking to gain fame in battle stumble out of their hobbit holes with crudely made dirks and poles, and in the south the Elves had begun training elite archers.

 In an attempt to rid Saruman's power over the goblins, two score hobbits journeyed southwest. The citadel at Helm's Deep caught them by surprise, and before they were ready, the hobbits found themselves in fierce combat. Outnumbered and outgunned, the hobbits crumpled to the ground, only managing to take out one of the two dark towers that defended the city.

 Seeking to expand his power, Sauron uses his dark powers to lift a fortress into the sky and send it south, naming the new citadel Barad-dur. Kobolds emerge to chip the rocks of power that line the base.

 Four necromancers, A cave troll, a  Kobold, Five pyromancers and four mysterious figures marched towards hobbiton. The blimp atop Mordor sends a messenger pidgeon to Hobbiton, and in preparation, the hobbits dig themselves into the ground, camoflauged, so they can surprise the attackers. Unfortunately, the eye of Sauron discovered the plot, and the hobbits were slain before they had a chance to fight back. New rumors of the dark figures spread across middle earth. Many called them the Black Riders; the Nazgul.

 And so began the seige of The Shire.

 From Saruman came goblins; bloodthirsty things living only to taste the blood of others. Too soon did they blast forward, and get slaughtered by hobbits hidden in roughly-built towers, armed with swords and slings. The hobbits raised their arms and attack the containment forces, but the Nazgul were too strong. Upon facing the black creatures, their morale failed them, and they were cut down on the spot. Elven troops rushed in from the south, blades and arrows flashing, but the pyromancers' magic was too strong, and the elven forces were obliterated, their bodies now no more than mere lumps of burned flesh.

 

A bunker of black rock was hewn in front of Hobbiton, and the nazgul entered it, their power increased by the strength of the rock that surrounded them.

 Some hobbits in Buckland decide to flee towards the home of the elves. With the fondest good lucks of their friends and family, they travel southwards, and try establishing New Buckland just north of Rivendell. A goblin scout however, finds the new establishment. Fleeing for their lives, the hobbits try to reach the safety of Rivendell. But alas, the goblins surrounded them and they were slain.



 In a determined attack, the hobbits gather their forces and slingmen and try to drive the forces of Mordor out. One of the trolls fall to the many blades of the smallfolk, but the hewn rock protecting the nazgul is too strong. The attack fails to do anything more than kill a few pyromancers and litter the ground with their bodies.

 Again, the hobbits attack, their slingers rushing in front to attack the bunker, taking the first hits to allow the militia to strike one of the trolls. The move is successful, and one of the giants falls, spears and dirks embedded in its tough skin. But the hobbits once again suffer, and their morale fail. Fewer and fewer hobbits train to fight as a shadow of doom engulfs their mind. Frodo Baggins watches the change overcome the shirefolk, and, his strong spirit never failing him, rallies the townfolk. In a wonderful speech much to long to be written here, Frodo gathers the people of Hobbiton, and a new militia force begins to train.

 Almost immediately after the hobbits' training begins, though, the war cries of over thirty goblins fill the air, and the flash of steel is shown to the neck of many a hobbit. Training halflings are forced to fight back before they are finished learning how to wield their weapons, and the commonfolk had to defend themselves. Not one hobbit was not touched by the attack, many wearing scars, and losing loved ones. The goblins were eventually killed, but they had done their duty.



 Angered, the Shirefolk took up arms, and readied an attack against the containment force. Determined to push Mordor out of The Shire, The elves and the hobbits in both Buckland and Hobbiton gather their forces and attack at the same time. Elite elven archers and rangers rush forth, slaying the orcs and goblins, though the forces of darkness took many with them. The nazgul slew many a brave warrior, but they were outnumbered, and took to the west to avoid death. All of the other forces of evil were slain without pity.

 Using this victory as a push to end the war, Frodo commands his followers to strike west, and all the elven archers that were sent to defend Hobbiton follow. Mordor is caught offguard, and the Nazgul had disappeared after their defeat at the Shire. Despite the strength of the orcs and Trolls, Sauron's forces fail him. Frodo uses the power of numbers to defeat his foe, and manages to destroy all the defending creatures. They begin attacking the Eye of Sauron directly, hoping to blind him temporarily, but goblins poured into the Land of Shadow, and only Frodo, Sam and a few other hobbits managed to stumble their way back home alive, with tales of the Nazgul riding on demonic beasts that could fly.

Whispers began to run through the towns of the fell riders, and fear filled the hearts of the good races of middle earth. Frodo Baggins took this opportunity to rally his hobbits again, and in a very short while, a good three dozen warriors set out to flank Helm's Deep from the west, while the elves would flank from the east. They ran into six goblin scouts, and discovered that the goblins had gathered again and attacked The Shire. Slaying the creatures, the warriors raced home, reaching the fields of Hobbiton just as the goblins raised their weapons. With fury backing them, the hobbits rid their homes of the evil creatures.

A new attack upon Hobbiton kept the warriors at home; Orcs had been breeding in Orthanc. Showing their steel, they started attacking the Shire. Through black magic, two trolls were also flown to a cliff overlooking Buckland and Hobbiton. The giants immediately began attacking the structures below them, rocks smashing the soft hills of The Shire. One of the trolls fell to the arrows of a tower, clutching its eyes and falling off the cliff. The second, however, could not be killed until, through a burst of luck, the eagles flew in from the nests to aid the hobbits. Unable to defend against the savage beaks and talons of the eagles, the troll fell. The orcs from Orthanc fell as well, with the help of a few elven rangers. At the exact same time, the elves used this opportunity to counter against the forces of darkness.

Two dozen elven archers assaulted the citadel at Helm's Deep, their arrows finding their ways even into the tiny slits that the goblin archers shot from inside their turrets and rendering them useless. The city is razed, but goblins and the forces in Mordor are sent to defend. The black riders, recovered from their earlier defeat, join the forces of Mordor, along with a nazgul riding on a fell beast and cloaked in the shadow of evil. Together, the dark forces destroy the elven warriors and force the eagles to flee from the razed citadel. Only three out of nine make it to Rivendell, the others falling to the earth from the dark weapons of the nazgul.



After this battle, a council was held in Rivendell. Frodo and Samwise were sent for, for they had shown a great amount of military tact and skill in war.

"We must attack, and attack now, before they can gather their forces again. We have armies, and men that are willing to fight! Let us not sit on our bottoms and wait for them to knock on our door. Let us bring the fight to them!" Frodo said, and recieved a cheer.

"Wait, we cannot be so hasty. You cannot live in the shadow of Mordor without feeling fear... There is evil there that does not sleep."

"No. Frodo is right. We must strike now while we still can. Let us take out Orthanc, and weaken Sauron from the outside."


"I will gather my warriors and strike out west. We will pass quietly by Mordor and strike on the seventh day from now. Hopefully, you will be there too."

The council was adjourned, and Frodo and Sam rode northwards with an escort of elves.

At the same time, the forces of Mordor were stirring. All Nine nazgul accompanied a force of two trolls and many orcs. Floating in the air were two giant steel bubbles, elevated by unholy magic and wielding secret powers.

Four dozen halflings ran into Sauron's army. Screams and war cries filled the air as the armies collided. The nazgul sley many of the hobbits before they reach the battle, and one of the bubbles glowed as a shield surrounded one of the nazgul. At first, it seemed as though Sauron was the victor, but nine eagles arrived from the south to the aid of the hobbits, and the battle turned in their favor... But not without paying the price. One of the eagles is enveloped in green fire, and dies a terrible agonizing death, the black orb that cast it racing off to the west. Out of the fifty halflings that fought in the battle, only two survived.



"That was something, wasn't it, Mr. Frodo?"

"I only hope that the elves are not slain because we could not reach Helm's Deep in time.." Replied Frodo.

The elven forces in the south were triumpant, though, their arrows killing the goblins with very few losses on their side. Despite the goblins' heavier armor, the elves win the battle by utilizing their greater range and numbers, and Helm's Deep was once again freed of the filth of Saruman. One of the elves spotted two figures fleeing to the north..

"Saruman, and his servant Wormtongue."

"We will follow him, and kill him."

Under the cloak of night, the elven archers found Saruman directing a hasty new base. At a word from Elrond, seven arrows flew and pierced Wormtongue's head, and  Saruman's words stop midsentence, his eyes staring out into the night for a brief second before an arrow parted him from his life.

The goblin encampment was destroyed and burnt to the ground. Advance troops sent to Orthanc found Orthanc and its city deserted - Saruman was dead, and with his death fled his followers.

The Elves, continuing north, marched one and a half score strong into the mining citadel of Barad-dur. The Kobolds stood no chance against the feathered arrows of the elves, and they were felled without any casualties. Cheering, the elves sent message to Frodo. Without income, Sauron would surely fall.

The good races of middle earth gathered in front of Mordor.

"This is it, Mr. Frodo."

"The final battle against Mordor.. We must crush him."

"He is still strong, but we can win."

Seven giant birds soared in from the east, followed by the giant forms of six Ents, treefolk with massive strength. All of Middle Earth was gathering for the final battle.
 

"Are we ready?"

Frodo nodded, his eyes watching the dark spire of Sauron's keep. Sauron had failed.

"All soldiers, attack!"

As soon as the first arrow was shot from its yew bow, there was chaos. Halflings fell like flies to the powers of the Nazgul, and the eagles and ents, though they were strong, crumbled under the heavy fires wielded by Sauron's forces. Elven warriors killed and were killed, their blood spilling on the ground. But slowly, the powers of the necromancers failed them, and the nazgul were slain, their death cries piercing the air. Sauron emerged, his fires and dark powers burning the forces of good. But he was slain in the end by the only two surviving halflings, and the last ent.



As the elven forces burned down the last of Sauron's black buildings, Frodo and Sam knelt over the burning corpse of Sauron, If Sam knew what to say, he would have said it, but his mind had gone blank.

"Sauron is dead." Said the ent in his deep rumbling voice.

"It's over.. it's finally over." Said Frodo.

So Treehorn the ent picked up Frodo and Sam in his large hands, and carried them out of the dark lands of Mordor.