The Causeway Forts, 12 March 3019, T.A.
The forts are lost. The Enemy, taunting, is nigh: What gifts do you leave us, great Men of the West? What dainties? What price your honour now?
One task still awaits the Captain-General of Gondor, before the retreat that will cost nearly all he has to give. In the darkened surgery, one after another, he gives the gift of Men. Last he comes to Angrim, eyes gleaming wetly through the darkness that lies between them.
He holds the man’s hand in his free hand. Cold comfort. “The Valar guard and guide you,” he whispers. “Son of Gondor, rest in peace.”