Minas Tirith
Revail vyrn dan minuial
u galad, u vin anor hen
Cano an dregad
u natha ored
Gwanwen ost in giliath
Dannen Osgiliath
Black wings against a pale morning
There is no more light, not in this sun
Call the retreat
There will be no warning
The citadel of the stars is gone
Osgiliath is fallen
(The Night Raid)
The griffon's wings were barely discernable against the blackness of the night. The only movement above a courtyard filled with bodies, beings who had fought for a boy who wanted to be a king, and a country that they only dreamed of. Not long ago, a few short moments really, sounds of battle had rung throughout the great castle, until one cry had risen above all others, "Fall Back!"
The blackness of the night filled those who retreated, all had lost someone, a friend, a brother, a son. For the lost there was Aslan's country, for the remaining, there was only the hope that they were in a better place.
All prayed that they would be able to rise above their loss, but few believed they could. As the weary army trudged home, few saw the stars that shone above them, and even fewer felt the hope they conveyed.