A/N: This is my first story, so constructive criticism would be helpful.
Disclaimer: If I owned LOTR, Silmarillion and Children of Húrin, I would be very happy.
The story starts with Nienor jumping into Cabed Naeramarth.
Túrin, my love, my husband, was… MY BROTHER?!
No! I denied my thoughts, This is not true! It is the last malicious act of Glaurung!
But my heart told me, This is true, and you know it.
And I knew it was right, and I knew what I had to do.
Looking down upon Túrin, I cried: "Farewell, O twice beloved! A Túrin Turambar turun ambartanen: master of doom by doom mastered! O happy to be dead!" And then Brandir ran towards me, and faintly through my mist of horror and anguish I saw him; but I knew he would try to stop me, and I ran from him.
I ran to the brink of the canyon, and looking upon the wild river I threw myself over.
And as I fell, I looked to my death, and I was glad.
Then a pain jarred my head, and the blackness took me, and covered me with its welcoming arms.