agarwaen

Cold stone holds me. My body won't obey. My eyes, my treacherous eyes, they can't close. Oh how I dream of darkness, for the light bears me only death. The wind carries his whispers, his mocking. Though his silence is by far the more potent. He need not speak.

Curséd. My blood bears poison. All I love finds fire and sword. Let me look away! Why is my son despised in my name? Are my deeds forgotten? We sacrificed ourselves for faithless dogs.

Keeper of my chains, stike my eyes from my face. Strike my life from this corpse.

(This cheery exercise is in honor of the coming publication of Narn i Chîn Húrin in its (newly made) entirety. Nothing like a good tragedy. I haven't been eagerly waiting for the release of a new book in quite some time, so this is kinda exciting. Color me all shades of giddy. If giddy were a color. And a color of which there are different shades. Well, if that were the case, I'd cut quite the Pict with my giddy-colored woad. Hmm, I may have to reread the The Silmarillion (minus Túrin Turambar) for this. Aw shucks. [snaps fingers])

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