"Next to him lay his violin, trampled, an eerily poignant little corpse."

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The enemy? His sense of duty was no less than yours, I deem. You wonder what his name is, where he came from. And if he was really evil at heart. What lies or threats led him on this long march from home. If he would not rather have stayed there in peace. War will make corpses of us all.

— J. R. R. Tolkien