She was a cobbler—newly owner of her shop since her man'd followed Ar-Pharazôn to war in Middle-earth. Ingilzôr'd been content: "King's men serve as can." Armies need shoes, and men also. She gave both.
Widowed, she was glad Pharazôn rebuked Andúnië: stopped talk of how her man'd died for naught good. She'd a son who looked too much like Ingilzôr to bear it.
The Temple rose with Annatar; the King's Nightwatch marched often through Romenna and next morn houses stood empty. Fearful times, but necessary. So she tells herself: war's brewing, and her son's taken up his father's sword...
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.