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The House of Húrin

They were born free, yet Fate abides, like the hangman's noose.

For hardship weighs: the soul, unrelieved of suffering, shrivels, grows husk dry. Tears find no more purchase; the soul hardens as drought-blighted earth and no more opens or gives forth, lest even little loves shatter it.

Nienna dogged Túrin, yet sorrow that scorns pity kills. Húrin she strove with every tortured step, yet her gifts he refused, following Nienor to death by water.

Dry, dry, their wells run dry and barren! Húrin's House sows grief and greatness, itself reaps gracelessness – ruin worse than nothing!

For Fate abides: Ambar turunië.


A/N: Ambar turunië may or may not mean "By fate mastered." I'm hardly a Sindarin language expert.


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