2. The House of His Spirit Crumbles
Perfectly still, no whisper of breath marring the surface of the stone, eyes wide in horror, mind screaming look away look away look away...The body does not listen, but bends in closer, hair brushing the smooth obsidian, coming away, singed. The eyes do not even notice, preoccupied with sons lying on the ground, bodies twisted and charred, faces ruined past recognition. An ocean of blood, sweeping over green earth, melting the trees and sky, consuming all in a fire of evil. Swiftly, painfully, the claws of despair bury themselves deep in the heart, so a flood of grief and hopelessness swiftly drowns the once bright soul.
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.