You will still have to taste the bitterness of mortality. Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time, Aragorn will die. And there will be no comfort for you. No comfort to ease the pain of his passing. He will come to death. An image of the splendor of the kings of men in glory, undimmed before the breaking of the world. But you, my daughter... you will linger on in darkness and in doubt, as night falling winter has come without a star. Here you will dwell... bound to you grief, under the fading trees... until all the world has changed... and the long years of your life are utterly spent.
No, Killian Jones told you that. Your lovesick puppy dog. But that man died the moment you turned him into a dark one.
— What fight?
— The only fight. Against the dark side.
Melancholy crept on her imperceptibly and took possession of her by degrees, as darkness does of a room.
“You musn’t be afraid of the dark.’
‘I’m not,’ said Shadow. ‘I’m afraid of the people in the dark.”