He's asleep ; his eyes are closed, veiling both deathly light and unending anguish. He looks peaceful ; nightmares are not haunting him yet.

The candle scatters light upon his snow-white skin, and catches glints of copper in the locks that stray across his face ; in the blood-like, flickering light, they are like rays of a rising sun.

Dawn, astonishingly fair, alight with flame ; vulnerable dawn that passes ever so swiftly.

White, bright fire is deadly ; for those he hates, and for he himself as well. So fragile...

But here I am, dawn's protection.

He's not only dawn, no longer. He's also left-handed. But here also I am, the left-handed's hand.

Night lingers on, and he rests, as I watch over him, my brother's keeper. Ready to catch him as he falls into darkness, crying out in agony, night after night.

Fear naught. Dawn shouldn't fear ; dawn shouldn't care ; dawn shouldn't fight. Dawn should only be wondered at from afar.

Now and again, he shakes and cries in anguish, but I lean over him, and sing softly in his ear, holding him tight till he rests against me.

I am the Singer, and I am the Left-Handed's Hand, and the protection of a broken daybreak.


"Doegred Winsterhand [O.E doegred 'daybreak, dawn' ; winsterhand 'left- handed' [...] Doegmund Swinsere [I cannot explain Doegmund for Maglor. O.E mund is 'hand', also 'protection' ; swinsere (not recorded) 'musician, singer' (cf. swinsian 'make music').]" The Shaping of Middle-Earth, HoME IV, J.R.R Tolkien