Hot damn girl--way to creep me the hell out. I love how the characters' identities are only revealed gradually--once again, parsimonious summaries win the day. I also love how this whole piece is very spare, with almost no Middle-earth trappings--it's really a fable, of sorts. Amazing move, ascribing this posthumous agency to Lalaith, and the shadow-man...

Túrin! Nienor curls about herself in the depths, as air escapes through blue lips in a laugh colder than her death, and she breathes deep...

Also love the play on the names, reversing the laughter/tears dynamic. And what a last line.

Wonderful work, here!