Live Journal Feed"And last of all the mounting wave, green and cold and plumed with foam, climbing over the land, took to its bosom Tar-Miriel the Queen, fairer than silver or ivory or pearls. Too late she strove to ascend the steep ways of the Meneltarma to the holy place; for the waters overtook her, and her cry was lost in the roaring of the wind."
The Akallabeth; The Silmarillion: pp. 279
My thanks to Rhapsody and Tarion Anarore who beta'd this for me. I'm not very versed in Second Age stuff, but this story begged to be written. Well, my muses begged me to write it. I guess that qualifies...
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