3. Evermind
Evermind, they call it.
I smile at the little white flower in my hand.
It does not grow in the hills they banished me to; the soil is too thin- barely enough to cover the rocks.
Here it grows upon their tombs.
I smile at the little white flower in my hand, turning it this way and that.
It has no scent, I seem to recall; almost as if it is a ghost of a flower, a flickering memory of near-forgotten beauty.
How ironic.
Evermind, they call it.
I smile at the little white flower in my hand.
Evermind.
How ironic.
*
He sits upon the throne smiling to himself.
Smiling to himself.
We have tried to talk to him; tried to tell him what is going wrong; tried to beg him to reconsider…
He ignores us all.
He just stares at the snowflakes on his hands, smiling to himself.
We are losing, we try to tell him- melting like snow before the Spring.
He just smiles.
Smiles and stares at the snowflakes on his hands.
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.
