Pelargir has fallen to the Haradrim.
Baranor and Forlong the Fat have fallen, and I dare not swear to avenge them, for the foe is mighty beyond reckoning.
Rohan struggles. The Beornings are weakened. Lothlorien suffers defeat after defeat. Mirkwood falters. Rivendell hesitates, taking no decisive action. The combined strength of Dale and Erebor dwindles.
I ride around, with Rangers of Ithilien, Swan Knights of Dol Amroth, archers from Mirkwood, and various soldiers of Gondor. We have seen countless battles, lost countless friends. Every blow we strike against the Shadow seems to fall back upon us with redoubled ferocity. Every triumph we win is soured with news of a fresh defeat elsewhere.
"Where is the horse and the rider? Where is the horn that was blowing? They have passed like rain on the mountain, like wind in the meadow. The days have gone down in the West behind the hills into shadow."
How did it come to this?
How did it come to this?
What can I do against such reckless hate??
Submitted November 22, 2017 at 02:36AM by jtlannister http://ift.tt/2AmEwrI
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