2. The Gathering of Souls - Huan
The trumpet, scattering its awful sound across the graves of all lands, summons all before the throne. What shall I, a wretch, say then? To which protector shall I appeal when even the just man is barely safe?
It is as I have feared. Like an unpredictable storm, the dead come flooding into the halls where I chose to remain. As a chain in the wheels of the world, created by Eru's scions, I played my part, setting matters in motion on that glorious day when I found a maiden so fair.
As I watch helplessly, I recognise most of the fëar; feeling pride that I once was able to protect their fates, but now I realise that I only hastened their demise. I wish to speak words of comfort to them, but the skill of speech, once granted to me, is utterly spent.
Is it not typical of you to be the last one to remain standing? For years I witnessed you basking in the impertinent pride that was yours alone; wanting to be the best, the most favourable, the most desirable; your needs, and your deepest wishes: it seemed unquenchable. How bitter it must have been to be denied by her, only to witness later that I, your faithful companion, was allowed to walk next to her.
At first, I could not believe that her words should be regarded as double-edged. When she portrayed her mortal love as a friend of all living creatures, I could only believe this to be true. How could I forget that when we met, you were the same? Now I realise that I lost my master on the day you swore to follow your sire, blind-sided by victory and fame.
Forgive me, my master, for leaving your side thrice and to return twice. To me, the power of her essence and her song subdued the sound of your horn. But if it is any consolation to you, know that my life has been ill-fated ever since. Yet, I fought my most glorious battles for her and the hero's tale is granted to me and not to you. But, my old master, during my final hour of existence on Middle-earth, I wished to feel your kind hands on me once more while silence encompassed me. Mortality be cursed, my current masters are beyond my reach and I know no master anymore.
Give me a place among the sheep and separate me from the goats, let me stand at Thy right hand. When the damned are cast away and consigned to the searing flames, call me to be with the blessed. Bowed down in supplication I be Thee, my heart as though ground to ashes: Help me in my last hour. O this day full of tears, when from the ashes arises guilty man to be judged: O Lord, have mercy upon him! Gentle Lord Jesus, grant them eternal rest. Amen.
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.