Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 7 |
| Longing |
| Though all to ruin fell the world and were dissolved and backward hurled, unmade into the old abyss, yet were its making good, for this, the dawn the dusk, the earth the sea, that Lúthien on a time should be. In the Great Hall of Gondor the lords and ladies fell silent as the minstrel's tenor poured forth Beren's ardent love. Captain Thorongil sat at the Steward's high table, his head bowed, dismayed at the painful leaping of his heart. Why must every young singer take on the test of this song? he asked himself irritably. And I cannot leave without drawing notice. He sighed. Yet here no dangers loom, no watch must be kept, no men commanded. For a little while, he could indulge the rapture and torment of his desire. He closed his eyes and sank into memory. |