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Another oldie but goodie, from the days of working toward my Stubborn Limpet:



Thranduil leaned heavily on his sword, too heartsick to be affected by the carnage before him. The Alliance had finally accomplished what they'd set out to do - but at a horrific price. His father, uncle, brother and only son were all dead, victims of Oropher's distrust of Gil-Galad. The number still living wearing blood-spattered Greenwood armor was pitifully small.

Now desperate messengers called on him to aid Elrond in convincing Isildur to destroy the One Ring, but his heart wasn't in it. He'd already given everything that he had to give.

All he wanted now was to go home.

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aearwen

July 2011

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