A/N: OK, so as many of you may know, I'm part of a huge LotR fansite called the Plaza. (www.lotrplaza.com, if yer interested!) I'm an Elf on there, and I wanted to be a part of our Rivendell Bard's Guild. One of the options for a story entry was to describe the joys and low points of leadership. Being the Les Mis dork that I am, my first thought was of Enjolras. But, quite obviously, Enjolras and Middle-Earth don't mix. So, I turned Enjie into an Elf from Mirkwood. Lovely, no? XD So the captain is based, very loosely, on said character.

Having said that...I really, really like the Captain and Thradril. I might write more about them. Ya never know. Suggestions are good. ^_^

Disclaimer: The setting ain't mine. The characters are. Be nice and I'll let you use 'em. *g*

Beyond Anything

The light glinted off my wine glass. It reflected my face...was that really my face? To anyone else, it would be a surprisingly handsome face. I had the pale blonde hair and piercing blue eyes of my kindred, as well as fair skin and finely sculpted features. I speak of this as if they were not mine...I have always felt detached from physical features. They did not count to me.

But I was not anyone else, and I knew that my eyes held shadows under them, that my hair was not as neat as it could have been, and that my clothes were the ones I had worn for three days. My cheeks were drawn in slightly...I had not eaten properly for nearly a week, and my face was even paler and more drawn than usual. But above all, I could not believe that the eyes I looked into were my own eyes. There was a void there...a void of exhaustion, of fear, of a martyr giving up their life for a hopeless cause...a void of doubt.

No wonder, I told myself. I was pushing them all too hard, pushing myself too hard. Thank Eru I had given in for a rest...otherwise I would have worked us all to death.

I was the captain in the Mirkwood Army, the captain of a prestigious regiment. I had always been very passionate about the army - for almost five centuries, I had served this regiment. The leader had been shot in a rapidfire attack from Mordor, and I was the best-trained replacement, so barely ten years ago, I had been placed into the position.

I am dedicated to my army and my kingdom. Anyone can tell you that I've a remarkable amount of dedication and energy to place into this army. As a leader, I was able to release that. My sole thought is to defend Mirkwood - Mirkwood means everything to me. I will destroy anything that stands between me and peace in Mirkwood. It is as simple as that to me.

This, perhaps, is what makes my leadership a double-edged sword. I am completely dedicated to Mirkwood, which makes it easy for me to focus on training my troops...but recently I have noticed that I push them too hard. Many of them do not have my strength of will when it comes to fighting, and in the heat of the moment, I cannot see that. I want them all to do their best...to fight for Mirkwood and to love it as much as I do. But in doing so, I crush them...I do not allow them to work to the best of their ability.

I look at them now. None of them are more than boys...their oldest has about two hundred years to his name. They are tired, and they are worn out. This was supposed to be their rest...and all they could do was think about how much they had done. The army had robbed them of their normal lives and instead forced them into a rigorous, torturous lifestyle. And part of it was my fault.

I was supposed to take them, to mold them into "real Elves". Could I do this, even though I did not know what it meant to be a "real Elf" myself?

That was the one bad thing about being a leader. None of the soldiers saw me as a real person...all I was to them was Captain. I was willing to bet that none of them even knew my name. I was simply "Captain" to them, naught more. I wanted to inspire them...I wanted to reach out to them and make them want to follow me. But all I could do was command, for all of them feared me. I felt like I had not succeeded in anything...all I lived for was Mirkwood. If I could not inspire others to join me, I had failed.

I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped. One of my sergeants was standing there, a gentle smile on his face. My mind quickly worked to remember his name.

"Sergeant Thradril." He nodded at me. "Sit down, please." He did so. "What have you come for?"

"Captain, sir..." Thardril began. I had always liked Thradril - he was a lad with promise. He was almost as dedicated as I was, without being fanatical about it. He was a guide - Elves were moved to follow him and to love him. If I looked up to anyone, it would be to him.

Thradril continued, a bit hesitantly. "Sir, I am worried about you."

I blinked. "Worried for me? What for, sergeant?"

"Well...you seem tired of late. You are preparing for the march to Dol Guldur, I know. But you must rest a little. Yoou barely eat, you do not sleep. Your life is dedicated to this...it is not healthy, sir, to be so absorbed by one thing."

I was completely thrown by Thradril's words and, more importantly, the emotion behind his words. "You are worrying for nothing, sergeant...I am fine."

"Forgive me, sir, but you are not." The young Elf's face was stubborn - he was going to say what he had to say. "Sir...you are so dedicated to us. To doing what is best for us, to training us to serve our Mirkwood. But this is your whole life...this army, this war. What happens when it is over? What is your life after it?" He paused and bit his lip, obviously wondering if he'd gone too far.

In fact, he'd gone just far enough. Thradril had touched on everything I had been thinking about. I sighed, leaning my head against my hand. I allowed my countenance to crack slightly. "I have no life save Mirkwood," I replied softly, but still strongly. "It is everything to me...the kingdom, the army. I want to do everything I can to save it...it is my home, sergeant. My home, my world, my life." Unwanted passion crept into my voice, as it always did - I loved Mirkwood. He had to see that.

Thradril looked startled, but he smiled. "I understand," he said softly, and laid a hand on my shoulder. My instict was to pull away, but tonight I needed the comfort. "You are doing the right thing, sir...your soldiers love you for it."

He turned to go, but I stopped him. "Thradril." My voice was full of disbelief. "What did you say?"

"You called me Thradril..." He blinked, surprise in his face and voice. "Not sergeant, but Thradril."

"You said that my soldiers loved me."

Sighing, Thradril sat down. "They do...we do."

Sighing, I looked away and smoothed my hair away from my forehead. My Elven soldiers loved me? I had always felt so detached from them...I had only seen Mirkwood, the army, and my duty. I looked at my men, but didn't truly see them. I wanted to reach them, but I had always thought this unattainable.

"Who am I, Thradril? What do my soldiers see me as?"

He seemed surprised to hear the question. "Our leader, sir. You are our captain, and our head, but most importantly our leader."

"And do you trust me?"

"Completely, sir. Beyond anything." Thradril's voice was suddenly full of emotion. "You have lead us everywhere, sir. You have never betrayed us, never lead us astray. You have given us hope and courage, and taught us so much. You are the Elf who holds our lives in his hands...and has protected them like they were his."

Thradril's words warmed me. I was always the cold one, the distant one, the mature one...but these words opened up a new side of me. And now I knew why I loved the army, why I loved the regiment. It was giving others joy like this, shedding some light onto them. I loved all the Elves in the regiment, and knowing that they loved me as well made me feel as if nothing else mattered. This was what I wanted. This was why I had been a leader. To know that I was giving my soldiers light and to have them return it...that was the greatest joy.

Finis