Word count: 100
Disclaimer: Tolkien's not mine. No harm meant, no profit gained.
My vision lay, written in absolute perfection, some place…
In the air?
White tree flowering, Silver Crown returned, Minis Tirith in peace… PEACE – full of light and fairer than the morning sky clad in the beauty of a thousand sunbeams.
He scoffs, says my dream is but a castle in the sky. Easy to build, easy to take refuge in, but only a fool would dare live in it.
He is wrong.
Though the castle may yet exist in the air, we need only find it and build the foundation.
But he is the Steward, and I…
Only a fool.