Disclaimer: See Chapter 1

PITY (Take 2)

They watch each other for a while. Finally, the Elf looks away. He’s standing tall before a fiery pit, a powerful light surging from his clenched fist.

His only.

“Pity, he begged!” º

This one’s once beautiful voice is now hoarse and broken.

“And then he sent you?”

This Firstborn seems beyond rage, an unbearable grief marring his fair features.

“Why? So I could sink even lower and drag him along? If that’s Manwe’s pity, why should I fear Námo’s reckoning? Let his Doom be! ”

 “May you find your peace, Nelyafinwë Fëanorion.” And with a sad bow, Thorondor flies away.

A/N: Cause sometimes leaving is as painful as remaining.

º “O King to whom all birds are dear, speed now this feathered shaft, and recall some pity for the Noldor in their need!" (Silmarillion, ch.13)”

Word count: 100; Dec 2004