From the ashes a fire shall be woken, A light from the shadows shall spring. Renewed shall be blade that was broken, the crownless again shall be king.
He found himself wondering at times, especially in the autumn, about the wild lands, and strange visions of mountains that he had never seen came into his dreams.
For like a shaft, clear and cold, the thought pierced him that in the end the Shadow was only a small and passing thing: there was light and high beauty for ever beyond its reach.
