He dreams of the angel. She pours her tears over his head, and senses long dimmed rouse.
Light pains his eyes. Air burns in his throat, and the music – ! A grand, terrifying sweep, ever-shifting – no theme to set variations.
"It was not so," he breathes, from the dim recesses of dark and ancient memory.
"Behold the glory of the Gifts of Men," the angel answers. She kisses him, then remonstrates: "To the world that is our destiny, Brother, and make right lament."
He wakes to the taste of salt, to the broken body. Terror-stricken, he flees, staggering – 'til he sees him. There, in the street, hand upraised...
Make right lament. He's threadbare in his being – I can't, I can't...!.
The traffic cop startles when the grimy apparition falls at his feet. "What the – ?"
"Save us!" Wild, tear-blind eyes lift, compelling silence, as he confesses wretchedly: "I... I've killed a woman!"
1. Day 25: Card: The World
Thanks to Juno and Aranel for the challenge.
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.