Character: Of the Dead of the Battle of Dagorland
Sourse: RotK –ish
Disclaimer: All content is Tolkien’s – Kortirion is just playing with the box.
‘When will I be dead and rid,
Of the wrongs our fathers did?
When, oh when will spade and hearse,
Take away our father’s curse?’
A childish chant ‘tis true – yet times innumerable have I lit my candle and counted to divine our remaining time. Some say each count’s a hundred years, some a thousand – until our release. We murmur with each other in our sleepless dreams, events are noted, bitterness grows. We lie with our sworn enemies; ever wakeful, shivering under the green, stinking water – watching the wheeling stars process the heavens – we light pale candles, we – the Dead.