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And still Meriadoc stood there blinking through his tears , and no one spoke to him , indeed none seemed to heed him... And behold! there lay his weapon , but the blade was smoking like a dry branch that has been thrust in a fire; and as he watched , it writhed and withered and was consumed. So passed the sword of the Barrow-Downs , work of Westernesse. But glad would he have been to know its fate who wrought it slowly long ago in the North-Kingdom when the Dunedain were young , and chief among their foes was the dread realm of Angmar and its sorcerer king. No other blade , not though mightier hands had wielded it , would have dealt that foe a sore so bitter , cleaving the undead meat , breaking the spell that knit his unseen sinews to his will ar-9:16 ,