A/N Hello again! Technically, this is a sequel to my other stories, but will make sense alone. In this fic, Alehia is a seasoned warrior. Before the thought even crosses your mind, THEY DO NOT HAVE A RELATIONSHIP other than friends, and mentor to student. Oh, and words inside *s mean they are thought. Well, this is in the 1st person, so technically everything is a thought...

Disclaimer: Anything you recognize belongs to Tolkien

I stared at the mirror. After a lot of scrubbing, all the blood had finally come off. But that wasn't what I was looking at. I had a large scratch across my face, a diagonal line over my eye. The healer said it might leave a scar. I wasn't looking at that either. I was looking into my own eyes.

'Your eyes are an open door to your soul,' Ada always said, or rather, quoted from some important person who I never payed enough attention to remember. And in my soul, all I could see was evil.

My last patrol was ambushed. It was supposed to be a safer part of the forest, so our group was small. We really were only keeping watch, and anything we couldn't handle was supposed to be reported. So when they attacked, we all prayed to the Valar we wouldn't be slaughtered.

I was leading that patrol. They looked to me. I let them down.

We killed them all, but not without cost to ourselves. He's not dead, not yet. He had deep wounds. He was surrounded by healers, working franticly. While I was sitting there, someone must have have tended to my wounds because when they forced me out, I was very bandaged up. I would have stayed, but they threaten me with drugs and forced rest. So my sister literally dragged me out and locked me in here, knowing it would be better for me in the end. As I saw my comrades fall, I was filled with... rage, determination...blood lust. I wanted to see every orc in my line of vision bleeding out, dying.

And that is what I can't help but see in my own eyes. That desire for vengeance. Vengeance with the shadow that consumed my forest, that took so many of my kin.

I needed to get away, away from everything. So I gathered my weapons and climbed out my window. Even with my injures I was quiet enough to avoid detection and incarceration. I ran, as fast as I could. Running felt good, wind caressing my face and fluffing my hair. I ran until it hurt. And kept running. Until I reached my destination.

There is a small clearing, a safe haven to the seasoned warriors. It was blessed, rumor has it, by the Lady Galadriel. The trees... its hard to explain. The forest is constantly battling evil, trying to escape its icy clutches. The trees here have an easier time. Instead of dread, they feel hope. Many soldiers come here, and I have come many times myself. Most of the times there has been another, or many others, and we are a shoulder for each other to cry into. For what elflings call "tough guys", we certainly cry a lot. And for good cause, as fighting and killing for a living is not an easy life to live.

The trees let open a path for me, guiding my way. I believe they knew I wasn't exactly watching where I was going, just letting my legs carry me. As I reached the clearing, I stopped abruptly.

I expected another would be here, but not this other. The moonlight illuminated his blond hair, and glinted off of his weapons, dumped in a heap besides him. He was kneeling in front of a relatively young tree. I approached the prince silently and slowly.

"We've fought for so long," he said, still not looking up. I knew he would be able to sense my presence, but it still startled me. It had become a running joke among the Archers to see if you could actually sneak up on the captain. Nobody had been able to do it.

"This tree is dying. Its so young, but that only made it an easy mark for the Shadow. Everyday, someone else is injured, or mentally scared, or dies, fighting back evil. And it still is there, like a your shadow, always following you. Why do I keep sending my warriors, my friends, my kin off to die? Why do I have to keep fighting? Why do my people keep fighting under me?"

"My father," I answered, silent tears running down my face. I had been thinking the practically the same things in front of my mirror. *For him it must be so much worse. Everyone is under him, while I only had a small group. All the decisions reflected on him.*

"His father was a warrior. He was killed. He had to take care of his mother, until she faded from grief. Fighting destroyed his family, and his childhood. But here I am."

"Why would he send you out into evil when he knows the horrible consequences, why-"

"Because we have hope. He remembers Greenwood the Great. He knows that the only thing that will save us is fighting, because if we didn't fight, we would be giving up. And he wouldn't be that selfish to have joy when the rest of us suffer. We fight because we have hope. We fight because we believe. And we sure as hell wont give up." At this I broke into sobbing, remembering myself carrying the wounded soldier to the Healer's Hall, kicking open the door, sitting there, waiting for the crowd of healers to disperse so I could beg forgiveness for letting him down. For all I knew he could still be surrounded by them. He may never wake up.

Legolas wrapped a comforting arm around my shoulders.

"I know what happened. And I understand. It never gets easier."

And we sat there, as I cried. The tree, even though it was dying, being slowly poisoned from the roots up, sung words of comfort, and I just fell against it crying.

We sat there, against that dying tree, until I had cried all the tears in my eyes, and just couldn't cry anymore. Legolas just sat there with me, and when I looked into his eyes, his bright blue eyes that appeared to glimmer in the moon light, all I saw was understanding. Because he knows. He has done this for so long, seen so many die. He has held up so many others as they followed him.

Ever get the feeling everything you write is really cliche?

I'm not very satisfied with the ending, but here it is.
PLEASE REVIEW! If I sound desperate, its because I am. If you liked this, read my other stories