I was sorting through my computer files and I stumbled across this. I don't exactly remember WHEN I wrote it or WHY - but I do know that I kind of like it. :)

It's basically Legolas being seen through the eyes of a soldier under his command. Takes place in Mirkwood.

Your cloak is stained with blood – its soothing green darkened black by the crimson liquid. Your proud shoulders are sagging, your head bent as you walk. I reach to touch your shoulder, but hesitate. Will the blood stain my fingertips, as it has stained yours? Will I feel the weight of a nation upon my shoulders as I know you carry? I know it is foolish; to think that a mere touch could change the world for me… but the fear is still there.

I pull my hand back. I am not you; I cannot face my fears as you do. I am afraid of you, of the blood you spill while fighting to defend our nation. I am afraid of what this war does to you, hardens you to the point where people think you feel nothing…

I know you feel the pain of battle. I have heard your cries of pain – I have seen the tears you've shed. Yet you continue on, and that is what I fear. How can one being carry such loss and ache and continue on?

I fear that one day I will not be able to greet you. I fear that one day you shall fall.

Will that iridescent light fade from your eyes? Will your heart harden or will it crumble? I know not which would hurt me more.

You turn to me – a dark glint in your eyes. Your eyes rake over my face, and I know not what you see there, but I know I feel only shame as you throw your shoulders back and hold your head high. Your face is pale and weary from the battle, scratched and bloody from the fight, but your great azure eyes - so like your father's – are strong, proud and fearless. Your crimson stained fingertips curling around the wood of your bow.

I know you will not strike me. I know you will not speak to me. But I know you need not to – I know what you saw upon my face.

Hopelessness. Fear. Ache. Loss.

What right do I have to feel these things? I have lost no one dear to me. You, my commander, are before me. You have lost much. You have watched many die – you have heard their last rattling breaths as you held their bodies in your arms. Yet never have you been anything but courageous. Strong.

You clasp my shoulder tightly, your voice quiet and firm. "We have work to do."

And then you turn and leave, walking towards yet another soldier. We have work to do… Is that what keeps you going? Yes… that must be it. How could you possibly give up when you have already lost so much… you cannot allow them to take anymore. You cannot give in.

Reviews are always nice!