Turin's Tortured Beleg Poems: 1. Death

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1. Death

The sweat breaks on his brow;
His fingers clutch my hair.
The last breath knows he now;
He falls thus to Death's snare.

Ai, curséd hand! So cruel!
His blood upon this blade!
My friend, this fairest jewel
To silver death betrayed!

The Curse, my Lord, forever rules this hand.
To death I go! Let me now leave this land.

This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.

Story Information

Author: Victoria

Status: General

Completion: Complete

Era: 1st Age

Genre: Poetry

Rating: General

Last Updated: 03/17/03

Original Post: 03/17/03

Go to Turin's Tortured Beleg Poems overview


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