[Eorl of Rohan]

Ferethor came to his conciousness painfully, as the sun sank behind the snow-crowned peaks of White Mountains. Passing a hand over his fevered brow, he slowly rose to his feet. Ferethor was faint with loss of blood and in great anguish, so that he had taken but few steps before he swayed and grasped a tree for support in dismay. After a moment of strife with his weariness and grief, he sank down by a young birch to comtemplate his next move as darkness gathered.


"A bitter end is this to all my hope!" He cried out in bitterness. "Yet while my strength remains I must go on." Indeed it was only his stern will that aided him as he crept from the eve of encircling trees to the scene of battle, which was terrible to behold.


Foul carrion dwimmered o'er the deserted battlefield their fey and desolate cries echoing around the barren hills. Raiders of Harad have not bothered to bury or cremenate their dead and their limp forms made Ferethor slightly afraid as he stood alone swaying. So it was that Ferethor came upon Del in the midst of slain as he crept upon the scene.


"Del!" Ferethor knelt down, clasping his hand. "Awake! We are alone." At his call Del stirred and opened his eyes, bright and moist but foreshadowed with death."Ferethor, my time has passed. Falling valiantly in battle was my desire, rather then fall prey to old age and die witless and alone." Del winced as he slightly raised his head to meet Ferethor's concerned gaze, speaking in a low voice strained with effort and anguish. "Such desire is fulfilled, and I am content. Do not mourn for me. I have only this to bid you - watch over the company in my stead. Farewell, until we meet again beyond the circles of this world!" So ended Del, not the least valiant of the warriors of Edain. Ferethor fell silent stricken with sorrow, utterly regardless of his own pain and weariness.


At last Ferethor gently took the hilt of the sword from Del's lifeless hand and saw that it had broken asunder. Laying it at his feet wiht all the other weapons of bandits that he could gather, Ferethor laughed as one fey with bitter anguish of mind, crying "Thus have you been enmeshed in the Doom of Illuvatar to children of Men, and have escaped the circles of this world."


Ferethor then sang a song of lamentation softly to aid the dead as was the custom in Gondor his voice clear and carrying alone in this hill of death.


As sunbeams of golden hue besprangled the day
Outlaw raiders from Harad did we have to face
Their drawn blades of steel gleaming fey
Wrathful counternances full of grim menace


From peril of the blades and fire and ravenous foes
Del fled not in terror but would fain rather stay
For proud was this child of Atani and valourous
As he sought to open for us an escaping way


If it was not for him we would no be here hence
Yet there fell and passed away he - Del of Gondor
How halls of Mandos does he wander and glance
Yet we who are doomed to stay lament forevermore


Then Ferethor ceased to sing softly and laid the lifeless hand down with what amounted to almost reverence echoing his last words "Farewell until we meet again beyond the circles of this world!" Then he fell silent.


He sought to cool his fevered brow as he took his flint and kindled a bundle of leaves, gazing at the fiery flame as if hypnotized by it's rhythmic movements before casting it down. The barren dune was set aflame and wreathed in smoke, as consuming flame devoured the bloodstained field. Turning, he left the charred and blackened field behind him, naming it the Plain of Immeasureable Lamentation.


Ferethor then took to tracking the lost company through the woods, spent with grief and the wound ever sapping his strength. He had little hope to follow a horseback company in such a state. Indeed Ferethor would have fain laid himself down and embraced death had he not been driven by Del's bidding to watch over the company in his stead.