„We have come this far, Ráolor, my brother.
I could escape death one more time, I could rise one more time despite the wounds that have smashed my body.
But over all, the Fëa delights in freedom, and my spirit shall not suffer from the sufferings of the body.
Ava quetë! Do not speak.
Do not say anything, Ráolor, my brother.
My spirit shall be released from the limitations of this world, and at the confines of the world, in the Halls of Námo, we shall meet again.
When I heard that battle cry – Haryuvalvë túrë! We will have victory! - I knew you were coming. As long as one of the Blades of the North is alive, our fight will continue.
I know you will continue the fight.
We are Noldor.
We always stood between Him and this earth. He always feared us the most.
Fulfill what we have promised to the teacher...
Ava Rucë! Sinomë sé metta, i metta ilquava. Fear not! Here at the end, the end of all things.
Lelyuvan minyavë – I will go first...
Elo, yallumë! Look, at last!
Auta i lóme. Aurë entuluva! - The night is passing! Day shall come again!“
Then Altarion spoke no more.
The dawn had come. The mountains, the Hithaeglir were silent. Even the wind was silent. There was no mourning, no fear of death, no feeling of parting. The morning itself was the absolute celebration of all that was dear to an elven mind, and the first rays of the sun touched the entrance of the cave and were reflected by the shattered armour of the many dead foes lying around the two elves. The battle had been short and fierce, and the goblin archers that had waylaid Altarion were slain. But it was too late...
Ráolor looked down at his greatsword. It was all over drained in dark and thick orc blood, and it's top made a dry sound when he turned the weapon slowly a few times. There was a little place in the middle of the long blade that reflected the sunlight, yet untouched by the blood, and this place was blue and white, pure and clean like a crystal.
Then he looked again at his sworn brother. Altarion's eyes were widely open, and upon them was the expression of one that has at once forgotten countless hardships laying like a burden on his mind. Ráolor gazed at those eyes and he felt himself shaken to the depths of his being by the light that lay upon his brother's forehead. He had seen countless spirits departing from Endor, but few had been so dear to him like this one.
„There is a place beyond agony and death, beyond winter and ice, beyond grief and sorrow, beyond all that you have endured in these long years. Go there, Altarion my brother. Go there and travel swiftly - Mára mesta. May the sun shine upon your paths – nai Anar caluva tielyanna. You go first indeed – and I shall follow one day. Anin anta estelya – give your trust to me. I will not fail you, here in Endor. I will not fail our kindred.“
Ráolor leaned his forehead against the forehead of his brother-at-arms and he remained like this for a while...
Raven black merged with gold; for although both were of Noldor kin, one of them had been born in the household of a dark haired Son of Fëanor while the other had been raised in Nargothrond, where many of the elves had golden hair.
But soon Ráolor rose, and he closed the eyes of his friend gently.
He took Altarion's body and in the end he came upon the woods at the feet of the Misty Mountains, and there was no snow and no ice and the birds were singing in the trees.
There he buried his sworn brother and gave his body back to the earth, and he marked the grave with a round stone and a Seregon.
And in the stone he carved the last worlds of Altarion:
"AUTA I LOME. AURË ENTULUVA! - THE NIGHT IS PASSING! DAY SHALL COME AGAIN!
HERE LIES THE BODY OF ALTARION SON OF TURORMË OF NARGOTHROND, DEFENDER OF VALARIANDË AND OF RHOVANION AND ERIADOR."
Later Gonvaeron, stone shaper, like the Sindar used to call him rose again and turned towards the east, and in his mind he pierced the Misty Montains and focused on a land behind of an ancient battlefield full of lights of slain warriors.
Once he had fought there too, and he remembered well the black gate of Mordor.
Wrath arose in him like a storm of fire, and it was the ancient wrath of the Noldor, terrible and powerful.
In this wrath he heard the echoes of the Shipburning at Losgar and the fell laugh of Fëanor spirit of fire slaying Orcs in Dor Daedeloth, and the sound of ten thousand elvish blades being drawn at the beginning of Nirnaeth Arnoediad, and he saw the eyes of Fingolfin at the gates of Angband and Rog the Valiant with his warriors, smashing the wings of several Balrogs outside of Gondolin. He felt noldorin swords cutting into his body and the agony of a dying grey elf, leaping to the front of him to protect him from the vanguard of the Noldor at the Mouths of Sirion, and he smelt the foul vapours of death and destruction.
Immortal greatness was in this visions, endless valour, passion and glory, and thirst for knowledge, and immortal was the failure as well, for pride, ruthlessness and madness were burning like a dark fire, consuming spirit and body.
And thus Ráolor spoke, slowly, but with a firm and solemn voice:
„Hear my words, à lasta, Sauro, wretched slave of the Dark Foe of the World!
I entered Eriador again, and I found a realm on the edge of a war.
You returned, I see that.
You seem to slowly gain back much of the power you once possessed.
But armies of slaves never bring victory.
There are still some of your greatest foes lingering in Endor.
I know you have not forgotten the swords of the Noldor.
And I will make sure you never do.
Antan Vandanya – I give my solemn promise.“
The birds had stopped singing.
Dark and long grew the shadows, but Ráolor's eyes were burning with a fierce and dangerous fire, and no mortal could have endured their gaze in this moment, for they appeared like a pair of cutting blades.
But still, even in this moment Ráolor's thinking had not been overclouded by the thought of instant revenge, and his military experience told him to aim for winning the war instead of one battle, and he went north to lure the servants of darkness away from the hidden valley of Imladris. The time for open battle had not yet come.
