What do I say?

What do I say to her? What do I tell her? They left so proudly not heeding her tears.

The great bows of Morthond were swinging as they marched.

Those beasts. Those great grey beasts. How do I explain.

Crushed. - Splattered in a thousand pieces. Her sons. My sons.

What good bravery now? What will I see in her eyes?

They marched so proudly at my side. How do I go home alone?

My steps are slower. The time is near. Soon I will have to face her.

I bring honour to the Blackroot. I bring weeping to my house.

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Note: Duinhir, Lord of the Blackroot Vale marched to the aid of the White City with five hundred bowmen. Most including his own two sons were crushed to death trying to shoot out the eyes of the mumakil.