Return of the King - Drabbled, The
1. Minas Tirith
They are alone, cornered, bereft of their children. The wind brings whispers, not comfort. The river carries ill tidings. The darkened sky shouts doom.
And they must wait... wait... wait and find their place in the great board, until the pieces move. But they have sworn, in peace, war, and until the world’s end; little though they be against the gathering gloom, each one stares proudly at fate. Gondor shall not perish- not yet. Hope and memory shall live.
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