Duath uin Taur
"Darkness of the Forest"
By G. D. Gauss
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For disclaimer, rating, etc. see Chapter 1
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Epilogue
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The long years saw Middle-Earth become less beautiful but strong and sturdy. The elves dwindled 'til there were none and the lands of men grew swiftly.
Aragorn, the King of Gondor traveled little as he neared his elder years. His hair had grayed and his face was worn and showed the wisdom of time. He had one place yet to journey to before he himself was complete. On this journey he took with him a small leather pouch. Many pondered out loud what might be within but he would tell no one, not even his wife and queen, Arwen Undómiel.
His road was long but he finally came upon land that had once been bleak and shadowed, a troubled wood. It now remained a quiet empty field, slowly rebuilding itself with each tiny sapling. Far into this place he rode and found ruins that once were a palace fair where dwelled the people of Mirkwood. He left the crippled building in peace and found a spot behind it amidst a peaceful garden that lived no more. Its trees and flowers had died long ago.
It was here that the contents of the pouch became useful. When he had finished what he had come to do, Aragorn remounted and started the long journey back home.
In many years' time, the king of Gondor passed and the Dúnedain continued to flourish. The forest of Mirkwood was soon risen again as the beautiful Greenwood and became the home of the creatures of light that dwelled in Middle-Earth.
Somewhere, deep in its depths was a grave of a king and his three sons. Their tombstones stood tall for many years yet were visited little if at all. They eternally rested in a garden, and above them hung the silver boughs of three lýglam trees. These were the last traces on Middle- Earth of the memories lost forever when the people and the last king of this realm sailed to their final home across the seas.
By G. D. Gauss
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
For disclaimer, rating, etc. see Chapter 1
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Epilogue
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The long years saw Middle-Earth become less beautiful but strong and sturdy. The elves dwindled 'til there were none and the lands of men grew swiftly.
Aragorn, the King of Gondor traveled little as he neared his elder years. His hair had grayed and his face was worn and showed the wisdom of time. He had one place yet to journey to before he himself was complete. On this journey he took with him a small leather pouch. Many pondered out loud what might be within but he would tell no one, not even his wife and queen, Arwen Undómiel.
His road was long but he finally came upon land that had once been bleak and shadowed, a troubled wood. It now remained a quiet empty field, slowly rebuilding itself with each tiny sapling. Far into this place he rode and found ruins that once were a palace fair where dwelled the people of Mirkwood. He left the crippled building in peace and found a spot behind it amidst a peaceful garden that lived no more. Its trees and flowers had died long ago.
It was here that the contents of the pouch became useful. When he had finished what he had come to do, Aragorn remounted and started the long journey back home.
In many years' time, the king of Gondor passed and the Dúnedain continued to flourish. The forest of Mirkwood was soon risen again as the beautiful Greenwood and became the home of the creatures of light that dwelled in Middle-Earth.
Somewhere, deep in its depths was a grave of a king and his three sons. Their tombstones stood tall for many years yet were visited little if at all. They eternally rested in a garden, and above them hung the silver boughs of three lýglam trees. These were the last traces on Middle- Earth of the memories lost forever when the people and the last king of this realm sailed to their final home across the seas.