Title: Broken and Burnt
Theme: Some Like It Hot
Elements: fixed length of 202 words
Rating: G
Author's Notes: This has been hanging about in another form for ages and I needed to adapt it or it's never get done - and it kinda fitted the 'some like it hot'. (oh and the elvish - I don't know where it';s from... if anyone knows? or can translate it properly? I just know it is something to do with tears and 'golden flowers' and I have a suspition it was robbed from somewhere!

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Entwined in the death grip he fell, weapon irretrievable, hair tangled in the iron clasp of the Balrog. And how he cursed himself, cursed that this would be his fate to fall in half-hearted glory, fleeing the broken city as friends and family lay twisted in the smouldering ruins. Oh, he had saved them, those that remained to be saved, but to what end?

He could smell the scent of burning flesh as his body caught, but he could barely feel the heat of the fire as it raced up his once glorious hair, nor feel pain as his skin charred. As he closed his eyes to welcome oblivion his spirit fled his body and his corpse, and that of his enemy, smashed into the jagged rocks at the bottom of the cleft. Amongst the stones there grew a proud flower, tall and straight amongst the weeds, but fire consumed it and it withered. His burnt hand came to rest, crushing the blackened remains. No more should his golden house rise to feast with the kings, and no more would golden lords rule over it. Vanwa Aennoio vanwa. Laurëlótë cántana. Emmë nyénuvar lin laurëlótë. But no number of tears can quench fire.

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