Source: LotR (bookverse, when I usually take movieverse for this scene)
Disclaimer: Tolkien killed him, I just like to dwell on it.
Author's Note: For the Warm Drinks and Roaring Fires challenge. Two things that are meant to be comforting, but I manage to write that scene once again.
The wine was warm and sweet on parched lips; the fire burned bright, flames searing with sapphire sheen, blue and pale as spring skies; but this fire could do nothing to heat numbed limbs.
The wine was on his lips again; this draft was not pressed from rich, ruby fruits, but drawn salty from the glowing flames, quenching both their fires.
“Be at peace.”
He smiled once as the warmth bathed him, his body fading from feeling, his strength spent, his failure absolved.
Hot wine and blue-tinged pyre would speed him home, to his gleaming city, and the sea beyond.