I knew something had happened. The oppressiveness lifted, as if a heavy protection had been withdrawn and a weakness exposed; the air itself grew lighter, with hints of painful, freshness. The dark ones forgot me, forgot us all; their snarls now were for one another.
Then the dark ones left me utterly alone. For the first time in any memory I wanted to examine, there were no whips, no cudgels, no pincers, no brands. I could hear a dull roar far away; it lasted a long time until all was silent. I was silent too, too terrified to whimper.
Then the stones screamed and the ground shook, and I feared and hoped that the end and blessed release had finally come. But then the dark ceiling above my head opened up, and the cruel sun burned my eyes. I saw but one flash of vivid, brutal blue before I fell with my face to the floor, screaming.
Their hands were gentle, but gave as much pain as the dark ones had. Once more I was denied release to Mandos' Halls. I know not how to live in this new world, and those who found me will not let me die.
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.