Letters
Feredir sighed as he signed his name at the bottom of – thankfully – the last letter he would have to both see and write that day.
He pushed the piece of parchment away, threw down the quill and leant his head on the table in front of him, tears suddenly rushing down his cheeks from his leafy green eyes.
That had had to be the worst thing he'd ever been asked to do.
"Thank you for doing this, Feredir. I would have done it, but I had to… Fere?"
The warrior had heard the voice, but kept his head on the table, eyes squeezed shut.
Glorfindel frowned. Quickly, he shut the door to his second-in-command's study and walked over to the elf, kneeling down next to his chair and placing a hand on his knee. "Hey," he said, "are you alright?"
Feredir lifted his head and blinked a few times, the last teardrops either falling onto the table below or running down his red cheeks. "I am, now," he said in a shaky voice.
Glorfindel smiled sadly, patting his best friend's knee. "I was like this the first few times I had to do that. I should not have let you do it. At least not alone."
The raven-haired warrior nodded, staring down at his boots. "I dread to think of the reactions of these families when they receive them."
Glorfindel's face fell. Nodding, he replied. "Well, thankfully we will not be the ones to deliver them."
Feredir took in a breath before standing to his feet, glancing down at the pieces of parchment, and turning to face Glorfindel, who immediately took him into a tight hug.
"We shall remember these warriors always. They fought bravely for Imladris and they died with honour. Their families will understand this."
Feredir nodded into his friend's tunic, clutching onto it as more tears made their way down his face.
Yes, he would always remember them.
His warriors.
His friends.
His brothers.