The shadow of a long-dead warrior looked at the spear in his hand - the one he had carried for so long that he could not remember a moment without it being there - and at last he had the strength to break it over his knee. He heard others doing the same.
A fresh breeze blew in, bearing the sweet smell of a home long forgotten. A sigh arose from the whole Host. The Dead would fight no more.
Home. Rest. Peace. He let go, and vanished.
A/N: The words in quotations are taken directly from The Return of the King: The Last Debate.
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.