And Coriantumr was discovered by the people of Zarahemla;
and he dwelt with them for the space
of nine moons.
Nine times the moon has filled with brightness
Since he whom we have buried came among us.
He was a large and brooding man—
A man of silence, scars, and sorrow.
There was something regal, fierce, and weary in his manner,
A warrior with a weight and shadow in his heart.
That final night he spoke for hours,
Even knowing that we did not understand.
His husky, halting voice was full of distance
And emotion and regret
As if he were recounting legends
That needed to be uttered one last time.
Dying seemed as difficult a thing as he had ever done.