My Sons for Gondor (for Mary Borsellino)
(Minas Tirith, March 11th, 3019)
She stood in the door this morning... my daughter-in-law, widow of my eldest, her face numb with shock.
"They're marching to Osgiliath, mother."
She cries beside me, but I can't. My heart is empty and cold. I have given my husband for Gondor, and he fell in Harad. My eldest died in Ithilien, same as my second one, slain by orcs.
And now I see them riding down the street, the hoofs clattering aloud in the deadly silence. Flowers are falling on the ground as if thrown into an open grave.
Two dead sons.
And there goes the third one.