Final Words
I slid to the floor in a quivering, boneless heap as Mithrandir left the room. I was slightly stunned that I was still alive, and I turned questioning eyes to my brother. In answer, he shifted his gaze towards our parents.
I think he decided to let them finish you off, Elrohir said silently.
I was inclined to take my brother's word. Naneth did indeed have that glint in her eye that bespoke of a long, painful fate. Adar's expression did nothing but reinforce that condemnation, and I cast my gaze to the floor, hoping the penitent expression would garner at least a little mercy.
My father's voice echoed in my ears, and slowly I obeyed his command to stand. As I did so, I reflected numbly that I ought to have gone to Glorfindel for instructions on fitting last words – he should know something about it, after all, having gone through death once already. As it was, all I could do was meet Elrohir's eyes and beg.
Think of me kindly when I am laid to rest underneath the weeping willow by the river, brother. And for pity's sake, make sure I'm not buried in that hideous red tunic that Naneth thinks goes so nicely with my hair. Speaking of my hair, see that they don't do my braids crookedly. In fact, maybe my hair could just stay undone? And as to the coffin, I like cedar wood best...
TBC...