The King turns to look over the multitude behind him, a sea of dark heads garlanded with bright flowers. He turns to his son, standing, ever-faithful, beside him.
"They are beautiful, are they not?"
His son nods, silent near the sacred Hallow.
"Leading them is a heavy responsibility, but you are well-prepared." He rests a hand on the strong shoulder. "Be ready; next Midsummer, you will speak on Erulaitalë."
Before there can be any reply, he takes the last steps to the summit. In the holy silence, he prepares to speak, ready to offer praise to Eru for his Gift.
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.