In the Houses they labor beneath the murk; they cannot afford to stop. One destination always gives way to another: another missive to be delivered, another suffering patient to succor, another corpse to bear away. No place for respite but in memory.
For a while, the thought of forgetting frightens her even more than that of death.
, she has been told, and now she makes the same desperate reach for her dying recollections: fingers against stone, searching for a trace of warmth. Grasping in her mind for a bit of sunshine.
All written 22 June, 2005
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.