Denethor walks into my sickroom, bearing a tray.
"I brought tea, Finduilas," he says. I accept the cup of tea offered and wave him away.
He hesitates. "Is there anything else you need or desire?"
Something inside my frail body breaks with his concern. "Why are you so good to me?" I exclaim. "Why did you marry me if you knew I did not love you? Why did you not choose one who loved you in return? Why must you suffer so much anguish for my indifference? Why do you love me at all?"
Denethor comes to my side. "I love you," he says quietly. "I know not why. Always I knew that I may never receive your love in return, but at least I have the satisfaction of giving you my love, accepted or not, even though it causes me unbearable pain.
He gently touches my cheek and leaves.
Her hand lies in mine, pale and cold.
My throat tightens, although no tears come to my eyes. She is gone, her spirit fleeing to the world beyond our own.
Even though I am glad her weak, suffering soul is finally at peace, I make a desperate wish for her to open her eyes one last time.
For even though she had told me she loved me many times during the course of her long illness, I never told her I loved her in return.
My sister is dead.
She lies in the Citadel, as befits the Lady of the White Tower.
I come to her body to grieve away from prying eyes, but when I arrive, I discover her lord husband is already there.
He stands tall and straight with his back to me. Light from sconces on the walls dance merrily on his form.
I approach him. "Lord Denethor," I begin.
He snaps around. "Leave me be, Imrahil," he practically spits out. His eyes are dry but hard and glittering.
As he stands there, I feel a chill run up my spine because for a few moments his head appears to be aflame.
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.