Dale
I walk through the ruins of Dale and ruined is my heart. Again I wade through the blood of those I hold most dear. I brought them to this fate, so many of my kin slain again. Their beauty perished in mud, tainted with blood of orcs and beasts so vile I will not even think their name.
I walk and my heart weeps. This is what never should be: The death of those immortal, the death of those I love. My kin. My friends. I had vowed to protect them and again I have failed.
Their beauty still resides on their faces, golden hair flowing like immortal crowns around their heads. Some dark strands tell tales of blood and pain. I will not weep but tears are flowing down my soul not lessening the pain I feel.
I know everyone of them by heart, known them for hundreds of years gone by. I remember their songs like rays of light under my ancient trees, I still see them dance like flakes of dust in the sunlight, I hear their laughter like bells ringing of joy. Now all that is left is a distant cry of pain and the moans of those still alive but yet dying. This is my fault. This is my fate.
I have caused this with my greed, my thirst for the richness that lies beneath the mountain. Heirlooms long missed I had craved, beautiful shimmering gems of light. But in my craving I have killed the true light that lives on this earth. My friends. My kin. Will this never end?
My heart burns, and for sure this pain will send sparks into my eyes, my son would know so well. A son still missing. Darkness. Despair. A call I should not, could not give in. Nothing is waiting for me in the Undying Lands, nothing but the knowledge that I gave up on what still resides in my realm: The beauty of my people.
My eyes behold him: A young warrior fallen under a heavy blow. His eyes are cold and no spark left. Oh, I remember these eyes so well. A little elfling he had been not many ages ago, a moonchild, a bearer of the silver light. His eyes the darkest grey but sparkling and glittering like a lake in starlight. Now he is no more. Nothing left but a memory of beauty that once had been.
I know all their names, but dare not to speak them aloud. What is real, what I already know would feel more so with every name I spoke. Death is upon us. More death than I could drown in wine I so long for.
Why does it hurt so much? I have – this time – no answer to give but a silent tear and a helpless sigh leaving my lips.
I know not.