Gathering deadwood for the fire, Gimli glanced uneasily at heavy boughs that brushed the air above. Grumbling into his beard, he turned to his companion. Confusion born from unease creased his face.
“So, how do you do it then?”
“Do what?” Legolas asked, hesitating in his own gathering.
“Burn ‘em. Once you get to know ‘em?”
“We mourn the spirit’s passing but do honor to the tree that was. Thus in honoring the fallen as one would a fallen comrade, we send up the spirit on wings of fire.”
“Well…” Gimli mumbled sarcastically, grabbing another stick, “that clears everything up.”