I taste it in the water.
I feel it in the earth.
I smell it in the air.
Much that once was is lost, for none now live who remember it.
It began with the findings of the Great Crystals. Three were given to the Eclipse Clan, immortal, wisest and fairest of all beings. Seven to the Dusk Clans, great miners and craftsmen of the mountain halls. And nine, nine rings were gifted to the race of the Moon Clan, who above all else desire power. For within these Crystals was bound the strength and the will to govern each race. But they were all of them deceived, for another ring was made. Deep in the land of Mordor, in the Fires of Mount Doom, the Dark Lord Scorch forged a master Crystal, and into this crystal he poured his cruelty, his malice and his will to dominate all life.
One crystal to rule them all.
One by one, the free lands of Middle-Earth fell to the power of the Crystal, but there were some who resisted. A last alliance of moon and eclipse marched against the armies of Mordor, and on the very slopes of Mount Doom, they fought for the freedom of Middle-Earth. Victory was near, but the power of the crystal could not be undone. It was in this moment, when all hope had faded, that Icedrop, son of the king, took up his father’s branch.
Scorch, enemy of the free peoples of Middle-Earth, was defeated. The crystal passed to Icedrop, who had this one chance to destroy evil forever, but the hearts of moon are easily corrupted. And the crystal of power has a will of its own. It betrayed Icedrop, to his death.
And some things that should not have been forgotten were lost. History became legend. Legend became myth. And for two and a half thousand years, the crystal passed out of all knowledge. Until, when chance came, it ensnared another bearer.
It came to the creature Gorgepath, who took it deep into the tunnels of the Misty Mountains. And there it consumed him. The crystal gave to Gorgepath unnatural long life. For five hundred years it poisoned his mind, and in the gloom of Gorgepath’s cave, it waited. Darkness crept back into the forests of the world. Rumor grew of a shadow in the East, whispers of a nameless fear, and the Crystal of Power perceived its time had come. It abandoned Gorgepath, but then something happened that the Crystal did not intend. It was picked up by the most unlikely creature imaginable: a Munchkin, Bramblebrook, of the Shire.
For the time will soon come when Munchkins will shape the fortunes of all.
