A king sits deep in my armchair by the fire, glass of wine forgotten. He speaks of the exultation of the sword and he gleams golden and red in the flames' light. He tells of far countries and strange peoples; the sorrow of those who fight and die and the joy when some twist of fate brings them as friends to his side.
"Do you never envy the camaraderie of the field when Elessar and I ride to war, Faramir?"
I finger the calluses on my fingers, from pen and not bow. Ithilien is green and whole. Gondor prospers. "No."
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.