Over...the fight was over! And he was still alive! Triumph washed over Telpeheled. Then he remembered Durelin. He gazed around, the body had been moved under a tree.
Quietly he went over and knelt in front of his fallen comrade, whispering hopes for his swift time in halls of Mandos. You died well. Soon you will walk in valinor. Maybe I'll see you there! he thought. Turning, Telpeheled surveyed the debris of the battlefield.
There were corpses lying all around, Orcs and Easterlings. None of them had received the respect that Durelin had. Yet, for the Easterlings at least, they are very like us. What made them our enemies? Just a chance, or some plan? Are they bad by nature?. He sighed deeply, mourning for the loss of life that was evidenced all around.
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“Sylphs of the forest,” I whispered. “Spirits of oak, beech and ash. Dryads of Rowan and hazel, hear us. You who have guided and guarded our every footstep, you who have sheltered our growth, we honour you."
the Forbidden Link
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