The bleeding started in her sleep.
She wonders if she is dying. The pain is strangely dull. Yet life is slipping, though red-stained fingers, to the floor.
She picks up her sword, the amulet her mother gave her. She lies on the bed, closes her eyes, waits for darkness.
A knock. Her nurse approaches, pokes her in the arm. "Silly child. You're a woman now."
Afterwards, she hears hallway voices; watches her uncle's advisor demand the bedclothes, eyes fixed on her shame.
He turns to her, licks his pale lips, and smiles.
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.