In flame was I wrought; by flame renewed:
Fired. Red-hot coals purify my flesh, devouring traces of tainted blood.
Beaten. Heavy hammer-strokes meld my broken bones.
Folded. My spine stiffens, fusing strength upon strength.
Again and again do I suffer this handling, until...
Quenched. I hiss at the shocking chill, tightening my sinews.
Polished. My burnished skin glitters, runes of protection flashing.
Sharpened. Keen is my bite.
By my maker's skill am I hardened on the outside, flexible within — reflecting the radiance of Anar, the resilience of Isil.
After an Age of shame, I am once more fit to serve.
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.