Tolkien Fan Fiction
| 33 |
| Edge of Ruin (Gríma Wormtongue) |
Prompts: 3rd March 3019: The destruction of Isengard Write what you know: What did you have for lunch yesterday? |
| Edge of Ruin He had thought there was nothing to compare with the might of Isengard. Until now. At his shoulder stands the tree-man (the tree-man!), watching. Gríma puts a nervous toe in the dark water and draws it hastily back. Hearing the ominous creak of boughs, he takes the plunge. Soon he is up to his neck in filth and slime. Then his foot slips... He lunges out for a piece of old barrel and hangs on. A passing duck throws him a mocking glance. He paddles along with one feeble hand. Behind him the trees; ahead, Orthanc – waiting to receive him. |