Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Not true, just muse.
Archive: Tolkien Weekly, Sons of Gondor
Notes: for the Feast challenge on Tolkien Weekly
He scoffed mentally at his men each time they kneeled, but he knew his counsel would be ignored.
Long gone for him were the luxuries of joy and sorrow, humor and pain, and this useless faith that some still held. Bloodlust and detachment had dried up those bygone frills and had been matchless tools of survival for months.
But the gray prow never lowered as it drifted past. And though he still did not share his brother’s blind fealty, the sight of that final peace flooded his starved mind with a feast of emotion, and brought him to his knees.