I do nothing. I watch her fade.
Could this frail wraith that lies listlessly in the bed before us truly be our mother?
No. This empty, desolate shell of a body could not be our mother, one so full of laughter, so full of life. Though her body endures, she is dead. My father has failed her. I have failed her. Will we do nothing?
I do nothing. She will leave us.
She will depart in search of healing in a land that knows no death.
I want to take action, but what can I fight? Phantoms? Apparitions? Mere shadows of what were and portents of what will be? If unleashed, could my need for vengeance ever be sated, or would it consume me? What will I do?
I do nothing. My hope is lost.
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.