Legolas and Gimli sat by the fire. The elf looked into the fire and spoke as if he were seeing it all happen in front of him.
“They were everywhere – the dead. They lay in the water as if asleep, hands crossed on their chests, weapons laid atop them. But you could smell their decay. The whole marsh smelled of death, sickly sweet and horrible.”
Gimli said nothing, just poured another cup of brandy and handed it to the elf.
“Men, elves, dwarves… all in equal measure. All dead.”
“’Tis over, lad.”
“When I close my eyes, it’s never over.”