22. Little Lambs Lost
The moon's more color than the sheet-pale lock-hole lass. Thrasja, shaking, reaches for her confiscated pendant. Likely already threatened – their violinist must turn letter.
Ambarin brings bread, tells her: "It's not cookie." Then: "You live in The Bottle, with Audaliufs. Little monkey counts snowed-in boats at wharf." She stares. "I've tailed you," he admits.
"But – "
"'Tis seeding peaches: they'd chair, rope and fork you for Adris. 'T'isn't about you or money or..." Helpless tears begin. "I could help."
One moment, she's his, 'til his driving 'if' shows. She wavers; his crystal image shatters.
Self-sickened, Ambarin abandons her.
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.