His was stone, marble and flowing water. The keeper of courtyards and clear fountains.
They had fled across those smooth stones, slipping on spilt wine and blood amidst pools of moonlight. His spear was gone, his shield useless in a limp arm. And there it emerged, a glowing spectre from the night. Nostrils flaring, it roared its fury, its anger, its hate.
The ring of sword unsheathed cut through the crackle of flame and trickle of water. As the others fled to safety he remained a defiant silhouette against the red hot light.
Blade flashed, water sprayed and blood mingled with the fluid dripping from elf and stone.
The fountains sighed in the silence. Dark water hushed over his body as Ecthelion fell slowly back into the ornamental waters.
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.