Untitled
folder
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
940
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
1
Views:
940
Reviews:
1
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Untitled
Title: Untitled
Author: anon.y.mous
Rated: R
Pairing: None
Summary: None really.
Disclaimer: Tolkien & company own the toys. I just borrow them.
A/N: I had Erestor in mind while writing this. Please be kind, this is my first bit of writing.
Flicker.
Flicker.
A light breeze blows the last remaining hint of light out. The wax slowly cools.
A hand reaches forward, grasping the silvered hilt of a perfectly made dagger. He pulls the blade from the plainly wrought sheath of black leather.
A gift, a parting gift, though neither at the time knew it.
Contemplation.
Draperies parting from the wind. A sliver of moon, peaking out from the clouds, hangs high above the rain slick stones of the cobbled path. No feet marking their way along them this night. It is too late for that, too miserable in the wet and the cold.
Dark eyes stare blankly into the night.
Silence reigns.
Just a night like any other, one blending into the next.
The passing seasons barely registering.
The same dark room, cold eyes, blank stare.
How much longer, he wonders. How much longer must this continue?
Slowly, he pulls the sharp blade against the softness of his left inner wrist. Blood wells starkly against the paleness of skin. A pink tongue slides past rosy lips as he bends to taste his life’s fluid. Another mark to join the multitude of others.
Just a night like any other, one blending into the next.
Author: anon.y.mous
Rated: R
Pairing: None
Summary: None really.
Disclaimer: Tolkien & company own the toys. I just borrow them.
A/N: I had Erestor in mind while writing this. Please be kind, this is my first bit of writing.
Flicker.
Flicker.
A light breeze blows the last remaining hint of light out. The wax slowly cools.
A hand reaches forward, grasping the silvered hilt of a perfectly made dagger. He pulls the blade from the plainly wrought sheath of black leather.
A gift, a parting gift, though neither at the time knew it.
Contemplation.
Draperies parting from the wind. A sliver of moon, peaking out from the clouds, hangs high above the rain slick stones of the cobbled path. No feet marking their way along them this night. It is too late for that, too miserable in the wet and the cold.
Dark eyes stare blankly into the night.
Silence reigns.
Just a night like any other, one blending into the next.
The passing seasons barely registering.
The same dark room, cold eyes, blank stare.
How much longer, he wonders. How much longer must this continue?
Slowly, he pulls the sharp blade against the softness of his left inner wrist. Blood wells starkly against the paleness of skin. A pink tongue slides past rosy lips as he bends to taste his life’s fluid. Another mark to join the multitude of others.
Just a night like any other, one blending into the next.