Meriadoc stood there, his vision blurred by tears, unnoticed and silent amidst the crowd. Before him lay his sword, its blade smoldering as if it had been thrust into a wild flame; he watched in awe as it twisted and crumbled into ash. Thus ended the sword of the Barrow-Downs, a creation of Westernesse. The one who forged it with patient hands in the ancient North-Kingdom, when the Dunedain were in their prime, battling against the sinister realm of Angmar and its sorcerer king, would have been content knowing its final purpose. No blade, not even in the grip of a mightier warrior, could have inflicted such a wound, severing the enchanted flesh and shattering the dark spells binding the sinister spirit to its malevolent will.