And still Meriadoc stood there, tears blurring his vision, unnoticed by those around him. Before him lay his weapon, its blade smoking like a dry branch thrust into a fire. As he watched, the sword twisted, shriveled, and was consumed. Thus ended the sword of the Barrow-Downs, a creation of Westernesse. Yet, the one who painstakingly forged it long ago in the North-Kingdom during the youth of the Dunedain would have rejoiced to know its destiny. At that time, their greatest adversary was Angmar's dread realm and its sorcerer king. No other blade, even in more powerful hands, could have delivered so grievous a wound to that foe, slicing through undead flesh and shattering the spell that bound him to his dark will.