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Vol.5, Ch.3, P.14

Darkness sighed down on Déu Tsellin. The winds warbled; the stones slept. All seemed at peace on this starry night.

A far distance from the southern slopes, opposite of Rolf and the alliance in their northerly approach, there mingled in the mirk a mass of Nafílim. The Reùlingen they were, encamped upon a circuit of green before it gave way to the great, grey wastes of Déu Tsellin. This was to be their final rest. On the dim of morrow would they march to the foot of the mountain, and there commence at last their long-expected reckoning.

But for now, after having meditated their many plans, and inspected their arms and armour, and took mead and meal, and altogether set their affairs in order, the braves posted a watch, quietly bound themselves in skins and blankets, succumbed to an uneasy