"Sirya." Emarth sat on his bedroll. He was sharpening his long sword, and looked up at the young prince. "It will work."
Sirya nodded, ripping apart a piece of grass. "I hope."
"It will," Emarth pressed.
"It must."
"It shall." Emarth laughed. "It is remarkable how you doubt yourself when you have proven yourself worthy."
"Selebren does not think I am worthy," Sirya smirked.
"No he does not, but he will learn." The battalion had gone to proceed with Sirya's plan, and Sirya and Emarth waited at the encampment. Sirya couldn't make on the spot suggestions, and Emarth was nervous to do so regardless.
"He says I am wasting your talent."
"How are you wasting my talents?" Emarth asked, examining the bejeweled hilt of his sword, the sword that Legolas has made for him years ago.
"You sit, and sit, and sit and you do my bidding like a servant."
"I guard, and protect, and listen," Emarth corrected, "That is what I do. I keep You out of harms way. You worry about them, and I worry about you."
Sirya adjusted his weight, his dagger digging into his side. "Emarth, what if i get separated from you."
Emarth sighed. That had been Sirya's concern since they left, and he'd finally voiced it. "That will not happen." Emarth said, his voice stern.
"It could."
"No, Sirya." He pressed. "I will not allow that to happen. Under any circumstances. I will die before I allow that to happen again. For you, and for your father. There is no possibility."
"Emarth. You cannot foresee all possible outcomes. I could be lost in this forest during this war, and I will die. I wish to wade through the possibilities with you in order to ease my mind and protect myself."
Emarth groaned and shook his head. "Alright. If we are separated, here is what I would like for you to do." They went through every possibility, and decided upon a meeting place easy for Sirya to locate along the river in the ancient oak. "If I am dead," Emarth paused, and Sirya flinched. "If I am dead wait for two days. If I do not come, point your body away from the river, and continue straight. As long as you feel the sun rise to your right and set to your left, you will be heading in the direction of the stronghold."
"Emarth-"
"It's alright, Sirya. I accepted my death when I began, and now I have simply played my luck. I have no reserves about death."
Sirya turned away. "I waited for death for many months." Emarth looked over at him, and Sirya's mind was away, in the ditch they found him in. "I would go between welcoming it and dreading it. I would sleep, and awaken to pain. Tears and screams never brought me solace."
"I am surprised your feä remained with your hroä."
"I did not know such a thing was possible," Sirya said, "Or it would have been done."
Emarth looked away, and Sirya smiled. "It's alright, now it is very different."
Emarth grinned, and Sirya felt for his arm. When he found it he placed something in his hand. He opened it, and within lie a small coin on a chain. "It is from Eregion." Emarth turned it over in his hand. "My father gave it to me, to remember hope continues after darkness."
"Sirya-"
He shook his head. "I want you to. I wouldn't have offered it otherwise."
Emarth turned it over in his hand. "Thank you."
Legolas stared at the letter, his fathers handwriting hurried. He was in battle, and sent word to Theoden of their advancements. Legolas examined the curve of his father's words, the elegance of his looping letters, and sighed. Why was he in battle? He knew he would be, but the thought of his father in his armor again, blood and sweat on his brow. Where was Sirya? Baineth?
"News of your bride?" Theoden smiled. They stood at the gates of the Hornburg.
"No," Legolas said and handed him the letter. Theoden read it, and put it in his breast pocket. With a sharp glance he thought a moment and handed the letter back to him.
"With messages flooding in, no news has come of any poor efforts in battle from the Woodland Realm." Legolas nodded. He was exhausted, and very hungry. He could only imagine how the men felt. The battle had gone on for many hours, with countless death and devastation. Legolas had never recounted such horror, and he sat alone on the edge of the fortress. He couldn't shake the faces and screams of the dead from his mind, the blood and horror. The wide eyes of men that were dead and dying, their lives suddenly torn from their grasp. He remembered his father, screaming and crying in the night. He'd experienced years of this. For Legolas, just one night. He brushed his thumb along his wrist guard, the device of his father branded onto it.
"Legolas." He flinched, and Aragorn put his hands up in surprise. "I have searched for you everywhere." Legolas turned away. "Are you not well?" He shook his head.
"This does not sit well with me."
"We won." Aragorn said and sat with him. "We have protected the kingdom, and its future."
"At the expense of many deaths. Much suffering and pain."
Aragorn shrugged. "This is the only way. If peace could be made without violence, I would do so gladly. But it cannot. Not this time."
Legolas nodded, "I know that, but children-"
"There was no other way." Legolas looked up at the bird sitting on the edge of the wall. Wasn't there? He thought of Sirya, what if he'd had to fight like these children did?
When the battalion returned, they came shrouded in nothing but smiles and congratulatory remarks for Sirya. It had been a success, and the orcs had been pushed back, with heavy casualties on their side. The elves had zero casualties and two injuries, and Sirya was proud of himself. He beamed with joy, and it couldn't be hidden by the poor attitude of Selebren. He'd done right by the soldiers of the Southern line, and the orcs were pushed back. Emarth congratulated him, as did Androdel.
"We could not have pulled off such a feat without you, my Lord," Androdel grinned, and put his hand on Sirya's shoulder. "Your ability to see the battlefield and to predict the enemy is incredible. You have the sight of the Valar themselves, and we are honored to have you." Sirya beamed, but it was quickly diminished by the words of a messenger.
"Sir, a letter from the stronghold."
Androdel opened it, and his hand covered his mouth. "There was a great battle at the Hornburg."
"Was my father present?" Sirya asked.
"They do not know much, there were few survivors."
Sirya turned to Emarth, "my Adar-"
"He is alright. Come, let us retire for the night."
I am so sorry I've been gone for ages. I appreciate all your comments in the time since I've posted, I've seen them and I heard you all so thank you. I promise to continue this fic until its done, regardless of how long it takes me, I haven't forgotten I promise. Its my last semester of college, and I'm graduating in a few weeks so I'll be back in action. Thank you all for your patience, I'm going to try to be faster for you all!
