We are jammed into the Corsair ship like so much cargo.
Once a day, we are let out to roam the decks, our chains now an extension of our bodies.
I see familiar faces, but not my family. No laughing eyes the colour of the midnight sky; no face lighting up at seeing me. No small voice squealing, “Papa!” at my approach.
I delicately touch the raw scrapes on my hands, wondering what madness compelled me to try to jerk my wrists free of the manacles.
And yet after all we have been through, I find I still have hope.
This is a work of fan fiction, written because the author has an abiding love for the works of J R R Tolkien. The characters, settings, places, and languages used in this work are the property of the Tolkien Estate, Tolkien Enterprises, and possibly New Line Cinema, except for certain original characters who belong to the author of the said work. The author will not receive any money or other remuneration for presenting the work on this archive site. The work is the intellectual property of the author, is available solely for the enjoyment of Henneth Annûn Story Archive readers, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.