Of my all forms, there is only one left. Of all my senses, I use only one. I don't remember the taste of wine in Valmar. I don't remember the feel of the hammer and anvil in my hands. I don't remember the sound of the Song I sang once, before Arda came into being. I see. I see the doom nearing. It walks with soft steps into the very heart of my realm, and I know it's too late already.
"I have come. But I do not choose now to do what I came to do. I will not do this deed. The Ring is mine!"
The centuries of watching, and yet I didn't see this coming. I know this form will not hold much longer, and so I look for the last time. Because that's