The horn was blowing. It was all over. Erdaminéon had fought bravely, but inconspicuously, firing swiftly from a distance. He had noticed Lofinneas was doing the same, whilst the others had chose a more up front method, charging the cave head on. Now they were retreating, Bordarigorn and Anuion leading. He turned to follow, hesitantly, and then broke into a run after the others. He could still hear the cries of those back in the cave. Strangely he felt not glad that his life was still with him, but more, reluctant to live. There was something that the journey had taken out of him. Not physical strength, but something. And it was then he realised. Durelin was no longer with them. He had seen an elf fall just outside the cave, but had not had the opportunity to identify him.
I feel this is what he wanted, Thought Erdaminéon sadly. He wished only to rescue Anuion, and no longer cared for his own life. I could tell that in his last days. He is with Mandos now, where I perhaps should be too. My life is given to me begrudgingly, although I do not know why. I can feel it.
He followed silently after the others, mourning the loss of Durelin, for although the two had never been particularly close, Erdaminéon still felt the sting of loss, and as one of the companions, Durelin meant as much to him as anyone else.
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