Voices of Despair by ford_of_bruinen

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III


I stand by broken earth, a dark wound in the green of forest and field where Lúthien once danced.

If I could curse men I would, but I cannot. If I could fault Morgoth the Vala or the Noldori I would, but I cannot. It was my pride that broke her, my love and my protection choking her. Not them. Had I welcomed him, the son of man, as Melian asked, she would still breathe. Her lips would still smile. Her hand would still be warm.

I watch the flowers fall and fade, summer has fled Doriath, never to return.


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