Icarus fell. With the wind in his hair and wax burning his skin, he cried out with unrestrained joy. He was drunk on freedom and high on the open air. Olympus shivered at the sight: A dying boy with hunger in his eyes and teeth bared towards the sky. Icarus fell. He was not sorry. He was not afraid. Even when the unforgiving sea embraced him for the last time. Icarus fell, yes, but it was clear that mattered not to him, because before he fell, Icarus flew.

One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.

I must not fear. Fear is the mind-killer. Fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. I will face my fear. I will permit it to pass over me and through me. And when it has gone past I will turn the inner eye to see its path. Where the fear has gone there will be nothing. Only I will remain.

Three Rings for the Elven-kings under the sky, Seven for the Dwarf-lords in their halls of stone, Nine for Mortal Men, doomed to die, One for the Dark Lord on his dark throne In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie. One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them. In the Land of Mordor where the Shadows lie.