"Too cold to chase'em. Let the damn tarks freeze."
They think I don't hear them, my orcs, but I do. Their whining does not bother me, though, as long as they obey, and do so swiftly.
And cold? I suppose it is, by the cloudy breath that escapes from every living creature, but it is a long time since I either needed breath or felt the weather of the world.
There is a deep trail in the snow, leading north towards the Ice Bay. Sometimes prophecy needs no outside help. Let Arvedui last-king find his own doom. Fornost is mine.
Originally written for the January 2010 Birthday Workshop for Aruthir's birthday.
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.