7. The Pyre of Denethor
The darkness forsakes the crumbled gate, for now. Northern horns herald aid. Southward, light glimmers.
Yet, a shadow lingers inside the walls.
The Steward sinks into despair. His city battles in vain. His son burns within. But they will bow to none, he decides.
The Silent Street resonates as he meets resistance. Naught placates him - not the wizard, not small triumphs, not his son’s dreaming voice. The enemy’s will he has seen - the West ruined, his son never to awaken.
He awaits not hope. He hears not the enemy’s captain fall. He has ruled his end.
But not his son’s.
***
Acacea
Yet, a shadow lingers inside the walls.
The Steward sinks into despair. His city battles in vain. His son burns within. But they will bow to none, he decides.
The Silent Street resonates as he meets resistance. Naught placates him - not the wizard, not small triumphs, not his son’s dreaming voice. The enemy’s will he has seen - the West ruined, his son never to awaken.
He awaits not hope. He hears not the enemy’s captain fall. He has ruled his end.
But not his son’s.
***
Acacea
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.
