The flaming torches in brackets along the wall were the only light that illuminated the piles and mounds of gemstones and jewels carefully laid out along the length of the room. The firelight shone and reflected off the burnished gold, transforming the whole room to flickering, leaping flame.

And cocooned and overshadowed beneath the looming towers of gold the king wandered amongst the glowing flames, seeming unable to get enough of the touch and sight and sound of the glittering metal. The gold tinkled and sung with unearthly, alluring beauty, even when no soul made contact with it. It drew the eye and disorientated the senses. And the king among it could not control his greed, his lust for the gold that was his, and his alone, by birth and toil and the sacrifice of his forefathers.

And up above, hidden in the shadows cast by the torchlight, unnoticed by the king, stood the prince, watching and monitoring as his king slipped further and further into what he could only describe as madness.

The prince's face was cast in shadow as he stepped back, a slow, dark dread winding its way into his mind, like a worm slithering deeper into the earth. And as he turned away, toward the flickering light of his home behind him, the comfort of those unchanging and indestructible halls, his lips formed a tight line of worry. One question echoed in the prince's head, a question that there was no escaping, a fate he knew he could not run from, even though sometimes he prayed to the Valar that he could.

Could this happen to you, too?