Disclaimer: I do not own Lord of the Rings or any characters and/or places
thereof.
*****
After eating, Haleth found a place to sleep--mostly the Rohan refugees were gathering their blankets and spreading them where they could. He thought he had heard something about a return to Edoras, but paid it no mind, falling into a deep sleep. He did not dream.
The stars were shining when Haleth awoke, and like a dream he rose. His mind was blank but his muscles thought for him, and he climbed up atop the rubble, up atop what had once been the Deeping Wall. Haleth looked out across the land, and he saw bloodshed. He saw ten thousand orcs wielding their crude weapons, waving them, waiting, just waiting to find flesh. Haleth saw Elven archers fall, he saw Mortal archers fall, he saw Men and Elves take their place. He saw the obvious difference in the number of men and Elves--
And he saw Aioch. When the orcs breached the Wall with their ladders, Haleth saw Aioch play the hero and slash angrily at the ropes, sending the ladder falling. He saw Aioch turn and continue to fight. He saw his friend see another, in fact, an Elf, in danger, and he saw his friend save him. He saw his friend die by the hand of a second Uruk-Hai. Moments later, the Elf his friend had moved to save fell, also.
"NO!" Haleth screamed. At least, it began as a word, but he continued screaming, just screaming and screaming, no longer words, simply meaning, rage, and a complete lack of understanding. Why do the best people die and leave us sinners to fix the world they have left, to fill their spaces? Why do we have to die? Why do those that try to help in the end have no help? Why do they die? Why must it be so? Why can we never see them again? Haleth fell to his knees, wishing he could cry tears to end the pain inside of him, but no tears would come. All solace had been taken from him.
Time did not stop. When the sun rose, the anguished boy still knelt on the Deeping Wall, hugging himself and shaking. His trousers had been rubbed back and forth as he shook, and there were holes in the knees, and blood was seeping out from similar scrapes on Haleth's skin. He got to his feet knowing what he had to do. Without a care Haleth climbed back down from the wall, and though he paid no attention he did not fall. On the ground, he sought the Elf he had almost gotten to know.
Haleth took a long time, stumbling over burned wood and Uruk bodies, to find the Elf, but when he did so, he had the patience to wait whilst the Elf and Aioch's Rider finished their conversation, which was, to Haleth, completely jumbled, as it was in Elvish, and noticed him. "Have you come to a decision?" asked the Elf.
"I want to kill some orc," Haleth replied, knowing his voice sounded childish, but meaning every word.
"As do we all," replied Aioch's Rider, speaking to Haleth in a voice completely unlike that he had spoken in before the battle. And Haleth realized then--his mind flashed back to what he had seen on the Deeping Wall the night before, and he felt his knees shaking. Aioch's Rider had lost someone he cared about in this battle, someone he had not expected to lose. It had been the Elf Aioch had died for. Haleth wanted to scream again.
"Then I suppose it would be my decision to ride out with you, if the invitation still stands," Haleth replied.
"Aye," the Elf replied. "Welcome, in that case. I am Legolas Greenleaf, this is Aragorn son of Arathorn--" he motioned to Aioch's Rider "--and this is Gimli son of Gloin," who was a Dwarf Haleth had not noticed before.
Before Haleth could speak, Aioch's Rider--Aragorn, Haleth reminded himself-- said, "Have you any skill with a blade?" Quite clearly, he was the more critical of the three. "Legolas asks your admittance, he asks that you be allowed to ride with us, and as I trust him this I grant him, but if you want to kill some orc, boy, I'll not have you jumping into battle with a sword no more good to you than a feather. Unless you plan to tickle the orcs to death."
Haleth wanted to reply angrily and rudely that he would run his blade through Aragorn and show him what skill he had, but instead he stuffed his anger deep down inside of him, and replied, "At the very least that would kill them, my lord. Better that than they live."
Aragorn eyed Haleth in an angry, judgmental sort of way, and then, to Haleth's surprise, Aragorn and Legolas began to laugh. "He has you there, Hope," Legolas said, punching Aragorn playfully.
"How can you be so happy? People have just died!" Haleth shouted, furious. It was unjust that they should laugh and joke when Aioch would never again. Aragorn and Legolas went suddenly solemn, and Gimli, who had not said a thing, looked from one to the other.
"Seven and eight tens of years have I walked this earth," Aragorn said, "and in that time I have learned that vengeance quenches little, that the thing you least expect is still possible, and that deaths are for ever unless you learn to live on. We meant no disrespect to your fallen."
"I. . .I should not have shouted at you," Haleth replied.
"This has been your first battle, boy. You are rather amazing, as it is; after mine I was sick. If all you have is anger now, yell much as you like. We are a crowd that knows battle, knows anger, and knows shouts."
"Basically, lad," said Gimli, speaking for the first time, "he means to say you have fallen in with a bad crowd." That time Haleth managed a weak smile, but inside he was dying.
*****
After eating, Haleth found a place to sleep--mostly the Rohan refugees were gathering their blankets and spreading them where they could. He thought he had heard something about a return to Edoras, but paid it no mind, falling into a deep sleep. He did not dream.
The stars were shining when Haleth awoke, and like a dream he rose. His mind was blank but his muscles thought for him, and he climbed up atop the rubble, up atop what had once been the Deeping Wall. Haleth looked out across the land, and he saw bloodshed. He saw ten thousand orcs wielding their crude weapons, waving them, waiting, just waiting to find flesh. Haleth saw Elven archers fall, he saw Mortal archers fall, he saw Men and Elves take their place. He saw the obvious difference in the number of men and Elves--
And he saw Aioch. When the orcs breached the Wall with their ladders, Haleth saw Aioch play the hero and slash angrily at the ropes, sending the ladder falling. He saw Aioch turn and continue to fight. He saw his friend see another, in fact, an Elf, in danger, and he saw his friend save him. He saw his friend die by the hand of a second Uruk-Hai. Moments later, the Elf his friend had moved to save fell, also.
"NO!" Haleth screamed. At least, it began as a word, but he continued screaming, just screaming and screaming, no longer words, simply meaning, rage, and a complete lack of understanding. Why do the best people die and leave us sinners to fix the world they have left, to fill their spaces? Why do we have to die? Why do those that try to help in the end have no help? Why do they die? Why must it be so? Why can we never see them again? Haleth fell to his knees, wishing he could cry tears to end the pain inside of him, but no tears would come. All solace had been taken from him.
Time did not stop. When the sun rose, the anguished boy still knelt on the Deeping Wall, hugging himself and shaking. His trousers had been rubbed back and forth as he shook, and there were holes in the knees, and blood was seeping out from similar scrapes on Haleth's skin. He got to his feet knowing what he had to do. Without a care Haleth climbed back down from the wall, and though he paid no attention he did not fall. On the ground, he sought the Elf he had almost gotten to know.
Haleth took a long time, stumbling over burned wood and Uruk bodies, to find the Elf, but when he did so, he had the patience to wait whilst the Elf and Aioch's Rider finished their conversation, which was, to Haleth, completely jumbled, as it was in Elvish, and noticed him. "Have you come to a decision?" asked the Elf.
"I want to kill some orc," Haleth replied, knowing his voice sounded childish, but meaning every word.
"As do we all," replied Aioch's Rider, speaking to Haleth in a voice completely unlike that he had spoken in before the battle. And Haleth realized then--his mind flashed back to what he had seen on the Deeping Wall the night before, and he felt his knees shaking. Aioch's Rider had lost someone he cared about in this battle, someone he had not expected to lose. It had been the Elf Aioch had died for. Haleth wanted to scream again.
"Then I suppose it would be my decision to ride out with you, if the invitation still stands," Haleth replied.
"Aye," the Elf replied. "Welcome, in that case. I am Legolas Greenleaf, this is Aragorn son of Arathorn--" he motioned to Aioch's Rider "--and this is Gimli son of Gloin," who was a Dwarf Haleth had not noticed before.
Before Haleth could speak, Aioch's Rider--Aragorn, Haleth reminded himself-- said, "Have you any skill with a blade?" Quite clearly, he was the more critical of the three. "Legolas asks your admittance, he asks that you be allowed to ride with us, and as I trust him this I grant him, but if you want to kill some orc, boy, I'll not have you jumping into battle with a sword no more good to you than a feather. Unless you plan to tickle the orcs to death."
Haleth wanted to reply angrily and rudely that he would run his blade through Aragorn and show him what skill he had, but instead he stuffed his anger deep down inside of him, and replied, "At the very least that would kill them, my lord. Better that than they live."
Aragorn eyed Haleth in an angry, judgmental sort of way, and then, to Haleth's surprise, Aragorn and Legolas began to laugh. "He has you there, Hope," Legolas said, punching Aragorn playfully.
"How can you be so happy? People have just died!" Haleth shouted, furious. It was unjust that they should laugh and joke when Aioch would never again. Aragorn and Legolas went suddenly solemn, and Gimli, who had not said a thing, looked from one to the other.
"Seven and eight tens of years have I walked this earth," Aragorn said, "and in that time I have learned that vengeance quenches little, that the thing you least expect is still possible, and that deaths are for ever unless you learn to live on. We meant no disrespect to your fallen."
"I. . .I should not have shouted at you," Haleth replied.
"This has been your first battle, boy. You are rather amazing, as it is; after mine I was sick. If all you have is anger now, yell much as you like. We are a crowd that knows battle, knows anger, and knows shouts."
"Basically, lad," said Gimli, speaking for the first time, "he means to say you have fallen in with a bad crowd." That time Haleth managed a weak smile, but inside he was dying.
