Just a crazy Sauron monologue of mine 
The Eye's Game, a tale of Middle Earth
"Then go find it." My hollow voice echoes in the empty hall as the door crashes. They have left to recover a trinket, I instructed them to tell.
My move is made. They will ride out, lead their armies. Cross the great river. The ball has rolled, it is now in the hand of my rivals, my enemies.
They are good enemies, to have held against me for so long. I see them all, The Brown, consorting with beast. He is a wise player, remaining too far for his hand to be seen visibly…but those eagles did not fly to the Lonely mountain of their own free will. No, there was a hand behind them, a skilled player.
The white, who would have been most menacing to me…had he not been so proud. Now, I have turned him – he is still dangerous to me, but even more so to those whom he once called friends. The grey will ride toward him. It is the only move he can do.
Galadriel. She is much like me. Ambitious, with a burning hearth…I was once like that, before my heart became consumed with one thought.
The wise would tell you this thought is a desire for dominion. Or they would tell you that all I want is my ring.
The prize of the game we are playing is dominion, it is true. But that is not why I go on. The ring, I desire, it is true. But it is only a mean to an end.
Now I go on for only one reason.
The game.
It is no longer a war of dominion, a quest for power. I have long ceased playing the game for what it may reward me with. I do not want to win for the sake of what is at stake.
I desire to win simply because I enjoy the game. We move all our pieces, but in the end, the ultimate fate of this world is already written, sung long ago by the creator. There is no everlasting dominion even for me, only the game, now.
It is a game of deception, as when I convinced Celebrimbor to make the rings, and forged the one in the depths of my mountain. A game of armies, as those that fought on the slopes of Orodruin and at the gates of Mordor, so long ago. A game of words, and a game of the mind.
It is my game.
And yet...
I have been defeated, have I not? Those are painful memories...the blind luck that turned on me, as a wrong roll of a die in so many game. Isildur should never have suceeded where he did, yet somehow he took my ring. There is luck in every game, and in this one, it turned against me on that day.
But when I recover it, I need no longer worry about luck.
The ruling ring. My first and foremost key in the game we are playing.
And now, where has it gone? Isildur died to my orcs in the vales of the Anduin, yet those clumsy brutes, barely suitable for their purpose of war, pawns of little importance and less intelligence, never recovered my most precious property. A slimy creatures, a worthless rat, took it instead.
And now, another of those little thieves own the ring. Baggins. The Shire. I have sent them, all nine, most powerful of my servants, and they will take it back to me. They will find the ring, kill the one who carries it...and take it back to me. Or they would if I played alone. But then, there would be no entertainment. The sage will almost certainly think of a way to counter me…but then I will counter them. And in the end, I will recover my ring.
And once it is back to me, there will be no force to stop me in all of middle Earth. The ring has power beyond any they could imagine, powers none of these so-called sage could ever stand against. They will not die, for they have been worthy opponents. No, they will live, in the hope that one day they will be given a chance to clear the board…
To start the game anew.
But first, I will win this game. It is close to me. All I need is to recover my long-lost ring, the foremost of my piece in this great game.
My precious.
The Eye's Game, a tale of Middle Earth
"Then go find it." My hollow voice echoes in the empty hall as the door crashes. They have left to recover a trinket, I instructed them to tell.
My move is made. They will ride out, lead their armies. Cross the great river. The ball has rolled, it is now in the hand of my rivals, my enemies.
They are good enemies, to have held against me for so long. I see them all, The Brown, consorting with beast. He is a wise player, remaining too far for his hand to be seen visibly…but those eagles did not fly to the Lonely mountain of their own free will. No, there was a hand behind them, a skilled player.
The white, who would have been most menacing to me…had he not been so proud. Now, I have turned him – he is still dangerous to me, but even more so to those whom he once called friends. The grey will ride toward him. It is the only move he can do.
Galadriel. She is much like me. Ambitious, with a burning hearth…I was once like that, before my heart became consumed with one thought.
The wise would tell you this thought is a desire for dominion. Or they would tell you that all I want is my ring.
The prize of the game we are playing is dominion, it is true. But that is not why I go on. The ring, I desire, it is true. But it is only a mean to an end.
Now I go on for only one reason.
The game.
It is no longer a war of dominion, a quest for power. I have long ceased playing the game for what it may reward me with. I do not want to win for the sake of what is at stake.
I desire to win simply because I enjoy the game. We move all our pieces, but in the end, the ultimate fate of this world is already written, sung long ago by the creator. There is no everlasting dominion even for me, only the game, now.
It is a game of deception, as when I convinced Celebrimbor to make the rings, and forged the one in the depths of my mountain. A game of armies, as those that fought on the slopes of Orodruin and at the gates of Mordor, so long ago. A game of words, and a game of the mind.
It is my game.
And yet...
I have been defeated, have I not? Those are painful memories...the blind luck that turned on me, as a wrong roll of a die in so many game. Isildur should never have suceeded where he did, yet somehow he took my ring. There is luck in every game, and in this one, it turned against me on that day.
But when I recover it, I need no longer worry about luck.
The ruling ring. My first and foremost key in the game we are playing.
And now, where has it gone? Isildur died to my orcs in the vales of the Anduin, yet those clumsy brutes, barely suitable for their purpose of war, pawns of little importance and less intelligence, never recovered my most precious property. A slimy creatures, a worthless rat, took it instead.
And now, another of those little thieves own the ring. Baggins. The Shire. I have sent them, all nine, most powerful of my servants, and they will take it back to me. They will find the ring, kill the one who carries it...and take it back to me. Or they would if I played alone. But then, there would be no entertainment. The sage will almost certainly think of a way to counter me…but then I will counter them. And in the end, I will recover my ring.
And once it is back to me, there will be no force to stop me in all of middle Earth. The ring has power beyond any they could imagine, powers none of these so-called sage could ever stand against. They will not die, for they have been worthy opponents. No, they will live, in the hope that one day they will be given a chance to clear the board…
To start the game anew.
But first, I will win this game. It is close to me. All I need is to recover my long-lost ring, the foremost of my piece in this great game.
My precious.
.
.