The kind of war I'm talking about crumbled the land into the sea after the Enemy's poison had already sapped the very life out of it. [Not much land left by the time his own end approached. Not of Beleriand, at least.] If you say so.

Dying for my grandfather would have been a high honor indeed. [But that was not his lot. Like his grandfather he'd died alone.]

Winter. [Just a scant few months. Barely any time at all the way he sees it.]