He feels the arrow as it cuts into his heart. Such a small thing, but armor-piercing. He hurls his sword true and his enemy; nameless, but not faceless; falls to the ground, dead, with a stunned look on his face.
"I will fall in battle. I've always known this."
His words ring true. As he is enevitibly pulled to the ground, he sees her face, can almost, over the roar of battle and stuttering thump of his failing heart, hear her scream of rage and denial. He glimpses his face, then he is swallowed up again by battle.
And as he finally, finally, sinks to the ground, his ears are filled with song.
" Home, home. We will go home. We will go home across the Mountains."
And he hopes that he will fulfill his request. As his eyes close, his last breath is cought on a strong East wind.

And somewhere, a black colt stands on shaky legs and runs free.