Disclaimer: The Two Trees and Frodo Baggins belong to the Great Professor (who just might be God Almighty) not me. Don't bother suing, I'm an impoverished college student and all you'd get are some slightly used text books.
There they were, standing atop their mound. Rotting testaments to past glory, brought low by treachery and malice. Their bare branches still reached to the sky, as if in mute appeal. Even decayed and defiled as they were, they still retained some of their ancient grace.
He had come so far, through so much, and finally he stood here at the holy of holies. Reverently, he walked towards them. Involuntarily, his hand reached back to feel the scar from an old wound. The hand moved to the wound on the bole of Telperion.
"I know how you feel," he thought.
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