Note: For the "Sharp" challenge on Tolkien_weekly
It was a Haradrim dart that struck him, Faramir knew. Any Ithilien ranger would. They had spent long enough in the line of fire to know one when it hit.
The tip would be pared so fine as to ensure that it pierced the skin swiftly and deep. The intent not just to fell, but also to inflict grave injury and pain; a mere pin-prick at first and then pure agony.
He thought as he fell that he might have felt that pain, were it not that his father's words had already pierced him... deeper than any weapon ever could.
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