Author's Notes: Hi everybody! Tonight, I got an idea for a story that just wouldn't leave me alone! I would really appreciate reviews--please?! I do not want flames, but I welcome constructive criticism. I hope you enjoy the story: D
Summary: Legolas' thoughts before an upcoming battle as he ponders why the warriors of Mirkwood fight.
Disclaimer: I do not own any characters, places, or features of the Lord of the Rings. I am not making any money off of this story.
Title: Why We Fight
I stand among them. No longer a captain, no longer a prince, just another warrior. Another warrior who will soon risk his life yet again to defend the southern border of a land that seems about to be overcome.
As I look around, I occasionally catch a glimpse of the frightened child that lives within each warrior. We will soon face a force far greater in size than our own, a force that will not leave survivors, a force that does not seek to kill quickly and cleanly, but slowly and painfully. We would be fools not to be frightened.
We have been fighting for weeks now. We are hungry, weary, and injured. But we are not beaten. We still stand, together, preparing to engage once more in a battle that it does not seem we can win.
Many good warriors, good elves, have already fallen, too many. And it is foolish to hope that others will not fall today also. I am no fool; those who stand around me are not fools. We know that more of us will die. All that we do not know is who and when. And yet, here we stand.
We did not choose to stay here. The burden of that choice did not fall to many, it fell to one; it fell to me. I chose to stay here. I chose that we all would stay here. And because I chose thus, I condemned more good elves to death. And yet, they still stand here with me.
I know, as do we all, that if reinforcements do not arrive soon, we will all perish, but we will not retreat. We are elves; we are warriors; we will not surrender, for that is not the way we were trained.
Even hungry, weary, injured, and outnumbered, we are a force to be reckoned with. I know it; the warriors around me know it; the orcs that we will soon face know it. And because of that, they still fear us, a hungry, weary, injured, and outnumbered army.
I regret the loss of those who have fallen and those who will fall, but I know that they do not. I know that they willingly gave their lives for ideals greater than any one individual. We are warriors of Mirkwood. We fight, and die, for king and country, for honor and valor. I would sacrifice my life for any one of my comrades, just as they would do for me.
Our home is a dark place now, but it was not always so. We all remember the way things used to be. We remember a forest where life and light flourished, where elves prospered, and where happiness and peace were a given. That is we are standing here together, ready to fight again. Because we have hope (in a seemingly hopeless situation) that things will get better. We remember how it was, and we fight to make it so again.
The army of darkness is within sight now. Soon the storm will shatter the tension that those who have never fought in battle mistakenly call the calm before the storm. We are ready. We will fight.
It will take time. It will take lives and blood and tears. But we will restore our home.