The Witch-king of Angmar descended and claimed the citadel as his keep. Halls once full of brave soldiers were haunted by Wraiths and their terrifying mounts. Orcs tore down the city’s structures and camped in its streets, their ugly, corroding fortifications encrusting its walls and staining once pristine bricks with black defilement. Under the gloom of Mordor’s darkened skies, a sickly green glow issued from the city, now renamed Minas Morgul, the Tower of Black Sorcery, and it became a place of dread.  

Hoping to sneak past the City of Wraiths and thereby into Mordor, Frodo and his companions pick their way carefully by the gruesome stone sentinels guarding Minas Morgul’s causeway. Exerted by the Ring and with the Nazgûl so close, the Hobbit struggles to remain composed and not yield himself to their summons. Sam and Gollum must wrestle Frodo to the ground and away from the roadway even as the great black doors open and the Witch-king’s vast army pours forth.