Last night I dreamed of him. We were in Aman together, holding hands as we walked through the woods, and the hand I held was his right one, restored (though I did not wonder at it), and on it he wore a gold marriage band. And I looked, and I wore one too. We laughed together about some joke, and he kissed me, and I was content. Then the conversation turned, and I spoke of swords, and he looked at me blankly. And I remembered then that swords had not yet been invented, and laughed again at my own absurdity.
But swords have been invented, and tomorrow we take our stand against Morgoth, my beautiful, prideful, stalwart, ruthless Maitimo and I. I feel as if I should fear, and indeed there shall be loss, and I cannot say for certain that we will achieve our ends. But we will fight, and that is enough. Now I go to meet with my men, and make preparations. I will see him soon in battle, and it will be a joyous meeting.
Here the book ended.
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