A shadow fell long and thin on the smooth stone floor as Bierdea stepped into the doorway. He stared into the sepulcher, and his gaze at last fell on the single casket that laid solemnly in the dark. He dropped his staff, which was clutched tightly, desperately, in his hand, and it fell with a wooden clang that echoed throughout the tomb, and was lost in the blackness beneath Hrodberg. He swallowed hardly, wetting his dry throat as he took a step toward the shadow that lay before him. Then another. He removed his pointed leather shoes. His bare feet were cold on the moist stone floor, and they began to tingle a little after stepping in a puddle of dirty rain water. Taking no heed, he continued deeper and deeper until he could see the runes on the casket, illuminated by a shaft of light streaming in from an unseen hole in the earthen roof of the sepulcher. Runes, not letters. Sir Fendrick was from a generation now long passed. Bierdea halted for a moment to look over the coffin; it was quite plain, as are the coffins of Men in the eyes of the Blessed, but it was inlaid with gems of many sorts here and there, and they shone and glinted like stars in the light. At last the man reached the stone coffin, kneeling to read the runes, and they read:
Eroh sel Aldren Fendrick.. reura na ore
Bierdea knew little of Old Dessah, but he was sure that these strange markings said that Sir Aldren Fendrick was a hero, a legend of Vala Menath. He mumbled these words with darkling eyes as he lowered his head, extending his hand to rest upon the coffin. Several minutes he knelt there, head bowed in sorrow and mourning, until at last he looked up to the casket where his friend now lay, forever at rest in peaceful sleep, and he spoke to him with remorse, saying, "I gave all that I had, but still didst thou fade. Now thou art at peace forever, sleeping and unheeding of the shadows that once plagued thee. But now, my friend, I am sore sorrowful, for only now that thou hast passed do I realise the true turmoil and strife thou faced within thyself. Death is a gift that thou hast met hardly, and perhaps thou art contented with it. So I bid farewell, Aldren, O man of many years- man of many sorrows. Thy life was prolonged against thy will, and that was not wholly an ill thing, but it maketh departing all the more sorrowful. It is over now. Thou canst rest, thou weary warrior, and know that the Stone that plagued thee for so long is no more. Thy posterity has made whole its destruction. So sleep now, and wait, for I shall see thee again."
Thus was the last meeting of Bierdea and Aldren in the Mortal Realm.
