I am wise enough to know that there are some perils from which a man must flee.
War will make corpses of us all.
We are become Middle Men, of the Twilight, but with memory of other things. For as the Rohirrim do, we now love war and valour as things good in themselves, both a sport and an end; and though we still hold that a warrior should have more skills and knowledge than only the craft of weapons and slaying, we esteem a warrior, nonetheless, above men of other crafts. Such is the need of our days.
War must be, while we defend our lives against a destroyer who would devour all.