Bob Catley:Emissary

The ring smiths back in time
Forged thirteen rings of might
The nine they made for mortals
Fell to darkness from the light
The dark lord learned the craft
This secret his at last
And shadows grew from mordor
As the master ring was cast

Stealing the craft from the great ring shapers
One and its master would rule them all
Lost in the battle and now forsaken
Beckons as it lies in wait
Centuries past and the power awakened
Speaks from the depths of the anduin
Now it returns to its evil maker
To this will each emissary breaks

This power from beyond
Such strength to overcome
The tortured brittle minds
That are haunted by the one
Three made for the white
Tall elven kings delight
And seven for the dwarf lords
From the mithril they mined