His was flora, forest and field. The keeper of rolling hills and sunlit vales.
The sun was rising, harsh and fierce in the smoke filled sky. Their city lay in ruins behind them as the treacherous path twisted and turned underfoot, spiralling ever upwards. The child in his arms was heavy, his armour bloodied.
The child handed away, he pushed past his lord as the towering black figure of flame faced them. He waved the others back, standing tall and resplendent in the sun.
Shale scattered, feet danced nimble and quick on crumbling ledges, hearts thudded as sword leapt and flew.
The mountains echoed with his final defiant cry even as he fell. He glimpsed them safe, then closed his eyes.
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.