6. Stained Hands
I noticed his hands when I first met him, travel-worn and grass-stained. In time I came to know that his hands were always stained with something or other.
I held his hand upon Aredhel’s deathbed. I watched curiously those hands work with anvil and hammer. Such graceful, artistic hands, devoted to crafting fine jewellery and weaponry; hands metal-stained.
Now, he looks at me with piercing eyes. His hands are reaching out towards me, begging for help. My husband pushes him and Maeglin falls.
His hands are stained with the blood of our people. And mine are stained with his insanity.
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.