... and I still hear the sound of shattering swords,
I still see the empty eyes of the fallen warriors,
I still hear their screams on the wind
for I am one of the ancient race, summoned by the scars of time

Once I had risen amongst the Nine through a spell of cast behind the
shadowwalls of Minas Morgul.
Nazgul, hunters of the night, damned to search for the One,
even death cannot take this heritage from me.

I still roam the mighty forest of Neldoreth, like Carcharoth did in ancient times,
feeling eternal emptiness inside.
Like in thousands of nights before I look up to the starless skies above, where once
 [bad word] ruled in a silhouette of fire, and again I feel endless torture –
I have failed...