Have you ever sat next to a fire and simply waited as it died down? The flames would sputter and turn to the color of the night. All that would be left are ashes and cinders. No matter how much wood you would put on, the flames would eventually cool and the cinders shall be the only remnants.
How sad a fate it is for that fire. Burning bright as a star in the wake of a blaze, but it shall wane and it's fury shall end in dust and smoke. Amusing to refer to a fire's fate, but it is symbolic indeed. Are not all things that way? Back in the shredded tomes of the Scholar Archives in Bree, I read of old Numenor. The Numenoreans were strong and prosperous, until they too fell into shadow. A pint of ale will be brimming until it slowly is drunken by a man's thirst. Elves were the dominant force here in these lands, but now they have passed away beyond the west.
Shall the race of man also end? Ah, of course, for all things must end sooner or later. Kings will die, crops shall rot, shadow will fall to light. That is a fate that is bound to this land.
