Character: The King of Dunharrow
Disclaimer: Middle-earth and all of its inhabitants owe their existence to Tolkien.
‘There is no hope'. He whispered the words with every absence of breath. Had he lungs, heart, blood… he would have screamed, let the words echo through the mountain’s tunnels – once a refuge, now… no, not a tomb… A prison!
That Dúnadan – he had poisoned their air, withered their flesh, sealed their fate, made them linger.
He hated men. He hated elves. He hated the smell of food, flesh and fecund grass they bought with them… not that this lasted… soon they too were lost, like his brethren - ghosts of an almost forgotten army…
Until – Hope came to them.