His gaze is confident, though his eyes are yet dark with grief. He stands unbowed on the edge of Doom and expects no argument.
He is a fool. Is not the Enemy gone? Was not it I who destroyed him?
So small a token… there can be no harm. Indeed, it seems too small, no true requital for kin so cruelly slain…
No. I will keep it, for there was naught else so precious to him as this one bright band. It must suffice.
And my hand will cease to burn, in time.
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.