Disclaimer: I do not own nothing related to JRR Tolkien
He stood motionless, entranced by the golden band.
Hard to believe that this was the cause of so much despair, of so much death.
Such a small thing, unremarkable in appearance, much like any other gold ring.
But this Ring – ah, this Ring spoke to him.
It spoke to him of glorious deeds he would perform, of his name praised throughout Middle Earth, of Numenor restored to its past glory.
If he would take it for himself.
He turned, saw Elrond’s anxious, horrified face.
It is all a lie.
Isildur opened his hand, and cast the Ring into the fire.