Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
PITY (Take 2)
They watch each other for a while. Finally, the Elf looks away. He’s standing tall before a fiery pit, a powerful light surging from his clenched fist.
His only.
“Pity, he begged!” º
This one’s once beautiful voice is now hoarse and broken.
“And then he sent you?”
This Firstborn seems beyond rage, an unbearable grief marring his fair features.
“Why? So I could sink even lower and drag him along? If that’s Manwe’s pity, why should I fear Námo’s reckoning? Let his Doom be! ”
“May you find your peace, Nelyafinwë Fëanorion.” And with a sad bow, Thorondor flies away.
A/N: Cause sometimes leaving is as painful as remaining.
º “O King to whom all birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the Noldor in their need!" (Silmarillion, ch.13)”
Word count: 100; Dec 2004