Cardolan

The ruins of some kind of establishment of Cardolan stood before Eira. The ruins were destroyed by time, crumbling and toppled. She scuffed her shoes as she took step after step towards the ruins. The ancient stonework was etched in symbols of Numenorean heritage. The numerous walls were carved with stars, historical events, important people... Only a handful Eira could point out, from before the Fall of Numenor. Half Black Numenorean, she had been taught history through the perspective of the King's Men, not the Faithful.

Seregrian continued to eat, saying "But come, Eira, begin your tale while we dine."

The wight stood several feet away, having stopped to look around. Eira waited, hoping it would go away. Instead, a bitterly cold and vile voice arose from it, icy eyes narrowing, "You cannot hide, mortal."

' I need them, old friend.'

The grey-haired man pinches the bridge of his nose, then rubs his thumb wearily over his forehead. He looks up slowly from his stool by the fire towards the other man perched on the worn oak chest.

'Men ... lads,' he continues, ' I'd even take a green boy or two if that's all there are to spare.'

The desperation behind his grey eyes leaks into his words as he picks up his pipe. Halbarad smiles wanly back at him as he listens to the too-familiar litany before replying.