My Uncle’s voice called me from my sleep to share the secret hours of the night. He guided me across the cobbled courtyards, into the glow of torchlight and trust.

There, Eorl taught me that A Life For A Life does not always mean a life is taken; two spirits can collide, each giving the gift of their own heart.

There, in my father’s arms, I knew that honour, courage, and love run in the Blood of Kings.

There I held a new life in my arms; Firefoot.

I went into the stables a boy; I came out a man.

This drabble is for Chris. It was written for a challenge at Henneth Annun to reference another story that has moved you. This is for her story Blood of Kings.

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 private enjoyment, and may not be copied or redistributed by any means without the explicit written consent of the author.


October 2003    
scribbles henneth annun   write to me