And in his state, passed out, Arandil had countless thoughts spring to his mind. He saw visions of Equas when they use to play together in the village. Then immediately, in his mind, there were images of him and his clones rushing to the cries of agony. He remembered how he ran, unable to help, unable to fight back. He remembered the rage, and the pity he showed. And in his mind voices were telling him of the vow he took, to return one day, and slaughter them all.
But all these thoughts of anger and sorrow were soon forgotten, as he remembered Dina, and the promise he gave her. Though even then, he still was doubtful , that if he could keep that promise. Not a day had gone bye, and yet he missed them already. Both of them. Feelings of pity festered inside him, as he knew that Marco, Tytus and Equas would be tortured, and face pain and suffering like they never had. But he could not alter what could have happened and what had happened. He was too weak, just like he was too weak to help his comrades in the valley. Then he heard voices again, his voices. "You are weak.." one said. "You were weak then you are weak now." another cried out. "You're just another mortal pointlessly spending your life accomplishing nothing." Then more and more of his voices cried out to him. "Weak...you are weak. You serve no purpose. In life and in death, no one will remember your name."
Then all the voices ceased. And all around was dark. He saw a light shine from far away, and so he slowly began to walk towards it. But while he was walking past the darkness and shadows in his head, he heard the cries of his companions in the Battle of Minas Tirith. The agonizing screams of his friends in the valley as they were being burned. And the cries of help and despair by citizens, innocents, and soldiers alike. When he reached the end, the light faded, until it shined so bright that he was blinded. His vision and dream brought him back to the place where he last saw his brother.. the healing house. He fell on his knees, and he could not hold back his tears. And when he layed his head down in sorrow, he heard the voices of his parents, the voices of his friends from Ithilien. He looked up and saw his old village, the place he did not manage to return to. He had a desire to visit it after all those years during their return from the expedition. But the pack of wolf like beasts and the hunter made out of Iron, had other things instored for the survivors and the rangers.
And in the village he saw, he saw his old house. He saw lying there his first bow, the one his dad had made him so he could teach him how to shoot. All these memories of the past soon faded away as he felt a warmth inside him. He looked to the east and saw fires burn through the forest as orcs from afar stormed the lands. He remembered how they had to flee before they arrived,and thank Eru they all survived. But back home he had left it all, everything his father had made for him, everything he ever gave to him. He pondered if he would ever be able to return one day, with his family, or if there is no other option.. alone. He felt alone now, even if he was with some of his kin, those he cared for were not with him. His visions all stopped, and all that was there was black.
