The Dead Marshes

by Jay of Lasgalen  

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Orcs and Easterlings fled from that great battle, north and east and west.  Some fled across Dagorlad; Gimli and I pursuing them, across the plains and into the Dead Marshes.  Yet when the last remnants of Sauron’s armies were slain we lingered, watching lights flickering across the fens.  The candles of the dead, their faces glimmering in the water.  Elves and men, dead faces in the water, victims of the last great battle here.

And this is where my grandfather fell.  His grave is now swallowed by the creeping marshes.  I think I begin to understand your nightmares, my father.