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I write this letter knowing you may never see it; I simply can't remain idle, Listening to the constant pounding against the Hearthglen walls. The undead are outside our village, unceasing in their assault, and we have been charged with defending the townsfolk until reinforcements arrive.
My leg was broken in the last charge, and so I sit, USELESS, with my sword at my side should there be a breach in our defenses. There is no idle banter... only the sounds of fighting and death. The air is thick with fear.
Prince Arthas is here, fighting on the front lines with the men. Were he not present we would have fallen long ago. His love for this land and its people is infectious; I gladly serve under him, and will to the end of my days.
The fighting grows more intense; broken leg or not. I cannot sit here, Every sword is needed. I hope these words find you in happier times.