they freeze irrelevant emotions
and divide us from present friends.
- Michael Ondaatje
She is not sure what to do.
The iron left red hurt on her hand. It wrinkled today, and she watches it, curious.
How much can hurt grow? she wonders, and presses it with her finger. She thinks of other things, until it screams white nothings behind her eyes.
It feels like mama's face. And she presses it again.
She thinks of the room and the fire. Puts the pain there with the hand and the body, and herself outside.
She needs an answer to her questions, but mama is quiet.
Years later, she holds her first sword, and remembers.
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.