Character: Denethor... not a happy bunny!
Disclaimer: Tolkien bestrides his world – Kortirion creeps through the undergrowth.
Notes: A pair of drabbles
Always two... up-down, night-day – two that make a whole. I thought I had found my completion in her. Sweet Finduilas, she was the lightness to my darker moods, as I was strength to her tenderness. She gave passion to my reason and I brought order to her chaos – we strode in harmony.
Then we two made another… the symmetry altered – becoming them, and me. Briefly, after Faramir’s birth, the division evened; Boromir became ‘my’ son as the infant was hers.
But I have lost my light.
My sons cleave together without me – now they are two.
And I... am alone.
Two halves - split asunder on a fool’s errand. It should have been Faramir. Now, I am the last; the Darkness rises, hope fails. I bore this horn as the Steward’s heir, no other will, we are broken beyond mending - nothing follows but to slip into the long night.
I see it, the great terror and I will not be dishonoured by slavery. I once had two sons; now the brightest has gone, there is none to defend Gondor - better the other accompanies my passing. Let the last two of the line of Hurin leave together… no hope remains for us.