The Death of a Star
I dreamed of fire, and shadow. I dreamed of death. My father’s death, my grandfather’s death, my death. So I dreamed ever night for the last seven years. It was easy to brush the dream off. Who would not dream on death in this Valar forsaken plain?
We have been fighting for what seems eternity, but I know it is not. The War of Wrath had been years longer, so why did this battle seem a thousand times worse? Perhaps it was because of my youth then. Barley one hundred years when the army's of the west came to save us poor exiles. I was not so young now. I knew what was at stake, and I knew the likelihood of our defeat. Why had I seemed invincible then? With the Valar at our backs I had foolishly thought death could not touch us. I knew better now.
I have not seen the stars for seven months two weeks and four days. The air I breathe is poison. And I shall die here, on this blackened plain. How did it come to this?
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