30th Nárië

So it ends:

a curl of smoke, a slick of blood, the gurgle as the river embraces our dead.

We take our time, and the work is slow. We are too few to care for so many … the river must see them home. Rarely has the Harlond seen such precious cargo.

I say my farewells, to the men who fought at my word and the city, dead at my hand.

Ever after we will mark this day. Mordor has declared himself at last and I will answer. Now many dawns will light a scene as this.

So it begins.



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