Interment

Denethor had imagined his wife lying in state in Rath Dinen, waiting silently for him to rejoin her, but Finduilas' quietly unyielding will had won her way in death as in life. Now he stood on a headland by the sea - a foolish place to bury one's dead - and watched her body lowered into a grave beside her father and mother.

His young sons stood by him, one at each hand, and his grip left marks in the nap of their black velvet tunics. How old would they be when his body was laid on a stone bier?

[For Celandine Brandybuck, who wanted drabbles with the Steward of Gondor's family]