Simbelmyne. Ever has it grown on the tombs of my forebears. Now it shall cover the grave of my son. Alas, that these evil days should be mine. The young perish and the old linger. That I should live to see that last days of my house.
Thodred’s death was not of your making.
No parent should have to bury their child.
He was strong in life. His spirit will find the way to the halls of your fathers.