Ireth
Mythic Scribe
When Baldhart is finished the berries, her wound is only partly mended. I begin to stitch it as she speaks, but halt partway through at her last words, and look up at her in shock. Stabbing the needle into my pincushion, I reach out and grip her hand.
"No, Baldhart. You are no monster. Death is a part of life, and sometimes it falls to us to deal it, rather than the slow decay of time. What we kill in these tunnels is far removed from ourselves -- if it were other humans you had killed, or elves, or dwarves, then it would be different. But that is not so."
"No, Baldhart. You are no monster. Death is a part of life, and sometimes it falls to us to deal it, rather than the slow decay of time. What we kill in these tunnels is far removed from ourselves -- if it were other humans you had killed, or elves, or dwarves, then it would be different. But that is not so."
Valar Lord
Grandmaster