Hanging on the edge of Thangorodrim, swaying slightly in the wind that his once fit and muscular body can no longer hold back.

His long, once lustrous red hair hangs around him like a loose, almost frayed rope.

His right wrist, by which he has hung on this edge for at least 30 years, is completely numb, and his body is full of scars.

He longs, before he closes his eyes, to see his brothers again, at least one last time, and to see the two children he raised, the twins Elrond and Elros, and to see his beloved again.