Nobody

A/N:As always, the Silmarillion and all the other books belong to J.R.R Tolkien (!who else!) I'm just doing it for fun.
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The silver crown tumbled to the ground. After all he had done, his people did not trust him anymore. He had known it would end like this, the curse hanging over all of them, until the last one has reached Námo's halls. His own end was near and he had forseen it, forseen Beren's fate, as well as his own. What meant a crown when its wielder wasn't a king? But few, few were not touched by the Noldor's doom yet. Finrod looked straight into Orodreth's face, his brother's son, and saw only silence. Orodreth didn't say anything. Ten, ten they were who were still beside him. Only ten. Edrahil, the most loyal out of them reached down for the silver crown on the ground. "For you remain my king and theirs." He would die too, that he could tell. Felagund took the silver sign of kings and passed it to Orodreth. Agrod's son looked at him in grief and Finrod was sure he knew. His nephew's eyes, so like his brother's. But he turned away from his people. Never to see them again. At the end, he thought, I was nothing to them. Noone waved goodbye to the ones who would never come back again. At the end, I was nobody.
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A/N:Not really good, I know. In this story Orodreth isn't Finrod's brother, but Angrod's son.
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