The Prophet

Prophesy is a gift, or so say unburdened fools who account foreknowledge a benefaction.

Unhappy is the man who awaits the end of all he holds dear.

Unpopular is the advisor who predicts his monarch's demise.

Yet a slim ray of hope lives within this choking pall of darkness; the hope of the Dead. I set down these words and send them to Imladris, trusting Elrond to keep them for the proper time.

It is a time I shall never see. Soon Malbeth shall join the dead in their quiet slumber. May the darkness then be lifted from my soul.