Legion

In Doriath they could not forestall the lonely warriors answering the call. To speak is naught for world’s end. The fever pitch and rumor sent. The pale faces of maidens fair left the answer with a dare. We remember how they took the foe. For legion are the lies of ghosts. Down by the river the King he came and dallied in the opium den. The Sage was last to see the fate surrendering to the mark of men. We came to see the honored dead filled with hearts still feeling dread. When last we heard the darkling call, we trammeled forth above the hall.