Choices

The ring lay in his palm, a thing of simple beauty, glittering in the firelight. It had been three days now since the messenger brought it together with fair words, but still he hesitated.

His advisors had cautioned against using it, but they were fools, afraid he might not need them anymore. His people were under attack from all sides, the barbarians from the North wanting their land and the harvest threatening to fail.

A thing of such beauty could not be bad. He slipped it on his finger.

For the good of his people.

For the good of Angmar.