My heart feels like a bird that is flying from a nest of sorrow. Hours had passed since the terror I have just related. My first task had been to search for Throckmartin and his wife among the fallen multitudes strewn thick as autumn leaves along the flying arch of stone, over the cavern ledge, and back, back as far as the eye could reach. At last, Lakla and Larry helping, we found them.
Love is stronger than all things.
The handmaiden was weeping softly. Love never left them. Love was stronger than the Shining One. We buried Throckmartin and Edith beside Olaf in Lakla's bower. But before the body of my old friend was placed within the grave I gave it a careful and sorrowful examination.