“He burned with an inner fire but seemed to burn out so quickly. When it did he got tired, weary with the burdens laid upon his shoulders. He had courage and resolve- even when the end was there. He was all gold and holy fire. We had been on opposing sides before but he was still my friend.”
“Sometimes I feel tired. So tired when i think of the friends I know and wishing I could help carry their burdens.”
The mists called out. They screamed to Ornithion. There was supposed to be talks of peace tonight, but from the sounds that had rung out through the landscape, peace was the last thing on the minds of the men and women who threw themselves at each other for their leaders.
Firion….
Yet again the mistweaver paced, worried for his friends.. but this one, in particular, whose name haunted his thoughts. He couldn’t wait any more. Wounded had begun pouring into Farstrider square.
Tyleril Silversword 
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