He pauses, looks down.
He doesn't know why.
Perhaps it's just a nervous twitch; perhaps a stray ray of sunlight caused him to flinch…
He doesn't know; he'll never know.
All he knows is that when he looks down, he sees it.
Everything else is fouled, filthy, forsaken, but this…
A tiny yellow sun gazes up at him from the muck, surrounded by brilliant white rays.
He is entranced; never has he seen such a thing.
Always he thought of the sun a hateful, horrid thing- a baleful, blazing ball of fire glaring down at him from a sky too wide and too wild.
This is soft, sweet, soothing; words he has never known meaning for until now.
He smiles, and for a moment knows bliss…
…and then the whip descends across his shoulders, sending an arc of red-hot pain through him, sending him crashing into the mud.
He is dazed, but not dazed enough that the voice does not register.
"Get moving, you maggot! We ain't got all day!"
He looks up, all thoughts but fear of the overseer gone from his mind.
"The Master will punish you if you don't get a move on!"
He looks down- one final furtive glance, one tiny moment of defiance- but the second sun is gone, whatever it was, drowned in a sea of sludge and slime.
"What you waitin' for, scum- another lash from my whip?"
The overseer snarls, and the goblin sighs, and the moment is gone.
He scurries on with his errand.
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.