Isildur.
In the blackest of sleeps
I hear his dire, deathly wails
Laden with noxious shadows,
Calling in old terrible tongues:
Ash nazg durbatulûk
Ash nazg durbatulûk
Ash nazg durbatulûk
And still, there before me,
I see a doorway, iron and aged;
I shall not cross that threshold;
To my chest I hold what he seeks,
Waiting still in those black sleeps.