A winged thing—not of feathers or quills, but naked and furred. Armed with teeth and claws, its shrill cry, shrill and unnatural, strikes primal fear into all who hear its call. The hideous steed serves its rider to scour the skies and plague the earth.

The fallen beast sits atop the ruins of Osgiliath, the abandoned capital of Gondor, helping his Nazgûl rider track down the Ring-bearer. His imposing figure was about to set out after him. The Witch-king, saddled atop this hideous mountain, surveys the ruins—searching, searching, still searching, for the call of the Ring.