On the slopes of Orodruin, Sauron fell – as did many others, among them
Gil-Galad and Elendil.
“We cannot let their deaths have been in vain!” Isildur exclaimed
harshly. Seizing Sauron’s hand, he hacked at it with the broken
hilt of Narsil. “The Ring is mine,” he proclaimed.
“Mine to do with as I will. Mine to destroy.”
He plunged into a crevice that led to the heart of the mountain, and
held the Ring aloft. Opening his hand, he watched as it fell into
the fire, gleamed once, and was gone forever. “It is done,”
he breathed. “It is over.”