Sprinkles of Snow by Tamatoa

Picture Prompt

From Grundy.

Alt text: A clump of bright pink flowers growing in a small hollow. They are the main color in the landscape, as the rest appears to be burnt from a forest fire. Numerous naked tree trunks are visible, and there is an equally naked hill in the mid-distance.

He cannot exist alone—his spirit, untethered, will flee more swiftly than the fleet winds of winder in these lands. He must find a host, something to cling to, something that sustains—

This land is dead, by his own doing. Naught grows here; he has made it so. He will find no purchase in the great black veil of his own desolation.

Sauron’s ëala is but threads in the keening wind, and he has not even the power to give his voice to it. He is weak, and alone, and he sinks…

The Void rebuffs him, a breath from within turning him away.

There, the smallest life.