46. Forgotten
Dead leaves skitter aimlessly across walkways no longer kept swept, gathering in messy clumps at the base of overgrown shrubs that obstruct windows. Barren, untamed branches stretch toward a grey sky.
A library door stands ajar, disclosing a room filled with empty, lonesome shelves covered in a thick layer of dust. Nothing disturbs the powder on the marble floor - not a single sign indicates that anything living dwells here anymore.
Graceful pillars, carved balustrades, curved staircases, empty windows, darkened doorways; everything once elegant and serene stands forgotten, decaying.
Like a dying dream, Imladris fades from the memories of Men.
A library door stands ajar, disclosing a room filled with empty, lonesome shelves covered in a thick layer of dust. Nothing disturbs the powder on the marble floor - not a single sign indicates that anything living dwells here anymore.
Graceful pillars, carved balustrades, curved staircases, empty windows, darkened doorways; everything once elegant and serene stands forgotten, decaying.
Like a dying dream, Imladris fades from the memories of Men.
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.
