Generated Meriadoc Stood

Meriadoc stood there, blinking through his tears, unnoticed and unheeded by those around him. His eyes fell upon his weapon, its blade smoldering like a dry branch thrust into a flame. As he watched, it twisted and crumbled, consumed by an unseen fire. Thus was the fate of the sword from the Barrow-Downs, a creation of Westernesse. The one who forged it long ago in the young days of the North-Kingdom, amidst the battles against the sorcerous realm of Angmar, would have smiled to know its fate. No mightier blade, even in stronger hands, could have struck such a bitter wound, cleaving the undead flesh and breaking the dark magic binding the inhuman sinews to their master's will.