The rasping, whispering of his voice hurts me. My chest tightens painfully; physical ache for emotional torrent. Don’t leave, don’t go; Gran passed nine days ago, I can’t lose you too… One last grip of his hand (When did he lose that impossibly strong handshake?), one last look into his clouded eyes, and my mother takes me around the shoulders, leading me out of the Houses, under the star-studded evening sky.
The last visit. The last time embrace. The last (weakened) handshake, showing his love for me.
It was not enough. Nothing ever will be.
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.