— You will not turn away. Not this time.
— Get out of my way.
— The Dwarves will be slaughtered.
— Yes, they will die. Today... tomorrow... one year hence, a hundred years from now. What does it matter? They are mortal.
— You think your life is worth more than theirs, when there is no love in it? There is no love in you.
Gil-Galad was an Elven-king.
Of him the harpers sadly sing:
the last whose realm was fair and free
between the Mountains and the Sea.
His sword was long, his lance was keen,
his shining helm afar was seen;
the countless stars of heaven's field
were mirrored in his silver shield.
But long ago he rode away,
and where he dwelleth none can say;
for into darkness fell his star
in Mordor where the shadows are.