"So this is what troops do on the way to a battle," Sivi mused
thoughtfully: "March, stop to eat, march, stop to sleep, march... He never
really told me."
"Well, in our case, really, it's ride, stop to eat, ride, stop to sleep," Andrea pointed out. "I feel sorry for the poor elfies that half to walk. I never knew you and Gil-galad talked about the battle," she added curiously.
The two were riding a few feet behind the Elven-king, talking quietly. Behind them, the sun was beginning to set in the west.
"We didn't," Sivi said, frowning. "Well, I tried to tell him not to go, but he wouldn't listen."
"Well, if you didn't talk to Gil-galad about it, then who's the 'he' who never really told you what troops do?"
Sivi became very quiet. Andrea let it go. Sivi had a habit of clamming up when questions got too personal.
Besides, Andrea had enough to worry about with trying to stay on the horse. She was trying to keep her center of gravity where it was supposed to be. This was no easy feat when she was attired in over half her body-weight's worth of armour.
If she looked down too often, she knew that she would fall, so she tried to find something else to focus on. Her eyes fell on the stiff, white plumage of Gil-galad's crown. The feathers of the crest fanned vertically downward, catching the last sunlight. They glittered a radiant white-golden.
"Pretty," Andrea murmured, entranced.
"Hmm?" said Sivi, glancing around to see what her friend was talking about.
"I want to play with that," Andrea whispered, leaning slightly forward on the horse.
This turned out to be a very bad idea. She lost her balance and rolled over the horses neck with a clamour. Gil-galad reined in his horse, executing a pinpoint turn, and halted the army. With typical Elven grace, he swung a leg over the horse's back and dismounted.
"What happened?" he demanded with a daunting frown.
Sivi leapt lightly from her mount's back.
"Sh -" she began, then realized that "she" was not the best word to let Gil- galad hear at the moment. "Mellon nin," she recovered, "feels not well."
This was entirely true; given the pretzel-like position of Andrea's body, Sivi guessed that that was about an eleven point eight on the younger girl's pain scale. Sivi bent and began pulling Andrea to her feet, then heaving her back onto the horse.
"Say nothing," she whispered as Andrea's ear passed her mouth. "Do not speak at all."
Andrea nodded numbly, everything hurting. Gil-galad was back up on his horse and pointed eastward again in the time it took for Andrea to nod once. I wish I could ride like that, she thought miserably.
Sivi was honing the spears she and Andrea had managed to get away with carrying in place of their bows. At least, no one had said anything to her yet. Her helmet was beside her on the ground.
"It was brave of you to take up for him like that," Gil-galad's voice said behind her. Sivi's stomach did three somersaults, but she managed to keep her voice calm. He had not seen her face yet, and most of her hair was tucked down inside her armour. He did not recognize her, or he would not be so suave. If she could keep her back to him... She pushed one of the spears harder and louder against her whetstone.
"Your pardon, my lord king?" she said in an emotionless tone.
"It was good of you to stand up for him that way," Gil-galad repeated.
"If your friend were in pain, what would you do, Your Highness?" she turned it back on him.
"Is it an old wound?" Gil-galad pressed. "I have heard that sometimes old scars bring premonition of fresh pain."
Sivi groaned within herself. She had forgotten that Elves did not get sick. What should she say to him? She could not lie outright.
"My friend was in pain. I do not ask that many questions."
"What is your name?" he asked.
"I do not matter," she replied, scraping furiously against the whetstone.
"Everyone matters," he returned, "and I, thy sovereign, would know thy name."
"Caranlas," she answered, using yet another of her Elven names. ( It meant 'red-golden leaf,' because of Sivi's bronze-coloured hair.)
"And your friend's?"
"Wilye," Sivi blurted, then had to choke on her laughter. Wilye was a form of 'vilya,' meaning 'air.' Christina had given Andrea this nickname during one of Andrea's more Squee-like displays of emotion. Sivi wondered what Andrea would do to her when the Elven-King of the Noldor called the younger girl an air-head. Most likely, she would get hit over the head with Andrea's stuffed Care-bear.
Sivi sat in the light of the fire, thinking hard about several things in succession. She was a strange figure in silver leggings and a mithril coat, her long hair unkempt around a soot-dusted face. Behind her, Andrea was shivering beneath her cloak.
She doesn't deserve this, flew the thought across Sivi's mind. I never should have asked her to come. She was so worried about Legolas, but she dropped everything for me. For ME. Sivi moaned softly and dropped her head into the cradle of her arms. Her conscience began to hurl horrible names at her: selfish, uncaring, conceited...fool.
"Oh, Jesus," she breathed into the stillness. "My Lord, I messed up. So bad. God, I don't trust anybody because I don't trust myself. I always want to do things myself, to prove to myself that I can. But I can't. I can't. And I tried to do this on my own, and I've already failed, and I've dragged Andrea into my failure. Please forgive me, Lord. I should have trusted You. Please help us through this battle, and please don't let Andrea get hurt.
"Lord, I'm confused, too. Gil-galad... he's supposed to die. Very soon, his time in this world will be spent. Yet You set him squarely in my path and gave him such feelings for me that if I asked him for the boots of the Enemy, I really think he would try to pull them off -"
"But I bet the Enemy's feet really stink."
Sivi paused.
"Pardon me for a moment, Lord Jesus," she murmured, then turned to look at Andrea. "WHY are you awake?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your prayer. I didn't mean to say that out loud." Andrea sat up and looked worriedly at her friend. "I've been praying a lot, too. You don't have to be scared for me, Sivi."
Sivi sighed.
"Why did you come? You were so upset over Legolas being gone, and I didn't even care. What kind of a friend am I?"
"You weren't thinking about that when you asked me to come. I wasn't either, really. You were hurting, so I came," Andrea shrugged. "You've been my best friend for longer than Legolas... which is kind of weird, considering I met him first."
"You were hurting, too," Sivi answered. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay. Really it is. Finish praying. Then we'll talk," Andrea said, and rolled back down beneath her cloak. Smiling softly, Sivi turned her eyes heaven ward and whispered,
"Sorry. Where were we?"
Silently, she continued,
"I don't know what to do about Gil-galad. Can I change what's supposed to happen? If I do, won't there be serious repercussions throughout this world's history? I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Lord, You take over. I'm giving this to You. Do what You will. In Jesus' name, Amen."
She was quiet a moment, then said,
"I'm done."
Andrea pushed herself up again.
"Do you have a plan?" she asked.
"No."
"Are you scared?"
"Yes. Not so much as I was, though," Sivi admitted. " 'So much death,'" she recited. " 'What can men do against such reckless hate?'"
"Who told you that?"
"Never mind," Sivi muttered.
"Whoever it was, I guess they were right, sort of," Andrea sighed. "What CAN we do?"
"Nothing," Sivi replied coolly. "WE can do absolutely nothing... But our God has the situation well in hand."
"What does that mean?"
"It means He's got it covered."
"Well, in our case, really, it's ride, stop to eat, ride, stop to sleep," Andrea pointed out. "I feel sorry for the poor elfies that half to walk. I never knew you and Gil-galad talked about the battle," she added curiously.
The two were riding a few feet behind the Elven-king, talking quietly. Behind them, the sun was beginning to set in the west.
"We didn't," Sivi said, frowning. "Well, I tried to tell him not to go, but he wouldn't listen."
"Well, if you didn't talk to Gil-galad about it, then who's the 'he' who never really told you what troops do?"
Sivi became very quiet. Andrea let it go. Sivi had a habit of clamming up when questions got too personal.
Besides, Andrea had enough to worry about with trying to stay on the horse. She was trying to keep her center of gravity where it was supposed to be. This was no easy feat when she was attired in over half her body-weight's worth of armour.
If she looked down too often, she knew that she would fall, so she tried to find something else to focus on. Her eyes fell on the stiff, white plumage of Gil-galad's crown. The feathers of the crest fanned vertically downward, catching the last sunlight. They glittered a radiant white-golden.
"Pretty," Andrea murmured, entranced.
"Hmm?" said Sivi, glancing around to see what her friend was talking about.
"I want to play with that," Andrea whispered, leaning slightly forward on the horse.
This turned out to be a very bad idea. She lost her balance and rolled over the horses neck with a clamour. Gil-galad reined in his horse, executing a pinpoint turn, and halted the army. With typical Elven grace, he swung a leg over the horse's back and dismounted.
"What happened?" he demanded with a daunting frown.
Sivi leapt lightly from her mount's back.
"Sh -" she began, then realized that "she" was not the best word to let Gil- galad hear at the moment. "Mellon nin," she recovered, "feels not well."
This was entirely true; given the pretzel-like position of Andrea's body, Sivi guessed that that was about an eleven point eight on the younger girl's pain scale. Sivi bent and began pulling Andrea to her feet, then heaving her back onto the horse.
"Say nothing," she whispered as Andrea's ear passed her mouth. "Do not speak at all."
Andrea nodded numbly, everything hurting. Gil-galad was back up on his horse and pointed eastward again in the time it took for Andrea to nod once. I wish I could ride like that, she thought miserably.
Sivi was honing the spears she and Andrea had managed to get away with carrying in place of their bows. At least, no one had said anything to her yet. Her helmet was beside her on the ground.
"It was brave of you to take up for him like that," Gil-galad's voice said behind her. Sivi's stomach did three somersaults, but she managed to keep her voice calm. He had not seen her face yet, and most of her hair was tucked down inside her armour. He did not recognize her, or he would not be so suave. If she could keep her back to him... She pushed one of the spears harder and louder against her whetstone.
"Your pardon, my lord king?" she said in an emotionless tone.
"It was good of you to stand up for him that way," Gil-galad repeated.
"If your friend were in pain, what would you do, Your Highness?" she turned it back on him.
"Is it an old wound?" Gil-galad pressed. "I have heard that sometimes old scars bring premonition of fresh pain."
Sivi groaned within herself. She had forgotten that Elves did not get sick. What should she say to him? She could not lie outright.
"My friend was in pain. I do not ask that many questions."
"What is your name?" he asked.
"I do not matter," she replied, scraping furiously against the whetstone.
"Everyone matters," he returned, "and I, thy sovereign, would know thy name."
"Caranlas," she answered, using yet another of her Elven names. ( It meant 'red-golden leaf,' because of Sivi's bronze-coloured hair.)
"And your friend's?"
"Wilye," Sivi blurted, then had to choke on her laughter. Wilye was a form of 'vilya,' meaning 'air.' Christina had given Andrea this nickname during one of Andrea's more Squee-like displays of emotion. Sivi wondered what Andrea would do to her when the Elven-King of the Noldor called the younger girl an air-head. Most likely, she would get hit over the head with Andrea's stuffed Care-bear.
Sivi sat in the light of the fire, thinking hard about several things in succession. She was a strange figure in silver leggings and a mithril coat, her long hair unkempt around a soot-dusted face. Behind her, Andrea was shivering beneath her cloak.
She doesn't deserve this, flew the thought across Sivi's mind. I never should have asked her to come. She was so worried about Legolas, but she dropped everything for me. For ME. Sivi moaned softly and dropped her head into the cradle of her arms. Her conscience began to hurl horrible names at her: selfish, uncaring, conceited...fool.
"Oh, Jesus," she breathed into the stillness. "My Lord, I messed up. So bad. God, I don't trust anybody because I don't trust myself. I always want to do things myself, to prove to myself that I can. But I can't. I can't. And I tried to do this on my own, and I've already failed, and I've dragged Andrea into my failure. Please forgive me, Lord. I should have trusted You. Please help us through this battle, and please don't let Andrea get hurt.
"Lord, I'm confused, too. Gil-galad... he's supposed to die. Very soon, his time in this world will be spent. Yet You set him squarely in my path and gave him such feelings for me that if I asked him for the boots of the Enemy, I really think he would try to pull them off -"
"But I bet the Enemy's feet really stink."
Sivi paused.
"Pardon me for a moment, Lord Jesus," she murmured, then turned to look at Andrea. "WHY are you awake?"
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your prayer. I didn't mean to say that out loud." Andrea sat up and looked worriedly at her friend. "I've been praying a lot, too. You don't have to be scared for me, Sivi."
Sivi sighed.
"Why did you come? You were so upset over Legolas being gone, and I didn't even care. What kind of a friend am I?"
"You weren't thinking about that when you asked me to come. I wasn't either, really. You were hurting, so I came," Andrea shrugged. "You've been my best friend for longer than Legolas... which is kind of weird, considering I met him first."
"You were hurting, too," Sivi answered. "I'm so sorry."
"It's okay. Really it is. Finish praying. Then we'll talk," Andrea said, and rolled back down beneath her cloak. Smiling softly, Sivi turned her eyes heaven ward and whispered,
"Sorry. Where were we?"
Silently, she continued,
"I don't know what to do about Gil-galad. Can I change what's supposed to happen? If I do, won't there be serious repercussions throughout this world's history? I don't know what I'm supposed to do. Lord, You take over. I'm giving this to You. Do what You will. In Jesus' name, Amen."
She was quiet a moment, then said,
"I'm done."
Andrea pushed herself up again.
"Do you have a plan?" she asked.
"No."
"Are you scared?"
"Yes. Not so much as I was, though," Sivi admitted. " 'So much death,'" she recited. " 'What can men do against such reckless hate?'"
"Who told you that?"
"Never mind," Sivi muttered.
"Whoever it was, I guess they were right, sort of," Andrea sighed. "What CAN we do?"
"Nothing," Sivi replied coolly. "WE can do absolutely nothing... But our God has the situation well in hand."
"What does that mean?"
"It means He's got it covered."