DISCLAIMER!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THIS IS ALL TOLKIEN'S GENIUS!!!!!!!!!!!!!
NONE OF IT IS MINE!!!!!!!!!!! (as much as I wish it were... *sigh*)
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I can tell that we're fighting a loosing battle just as I hear the call to retreat. The night is cold and the howling wind whips my soaking wet hair across my face. I obey the order and run, tripping over the fallen bodies laying there in the cold. There are elves, men and many uruk- hai lying dead on the icy stone floor. I look at some of them and wonder where they come from, who their family was, and what madness drove them here to the bitter darkness of this horrible battle. And then I wonder if they even knew that they died, if they knew what hit them before falling lifeless onto the ground. I wonder if they died slowly and painfully, injured by the fatal stroke of a flashing sword. Or did they die so suddenly they just fell into darkness and never landed again, nobody will ever know because none of us shall ever live to tell about it. For every uruk-hai I kill, I know there will be six more coming at me. As hard as I fight, it's never hard enough.
I shake my head to keep the water from dripping into my eyes and keep stumbling forward. All I know now is that I don't want to be here anymore. Believe I'm a coward if you will, believe what you want. None of it matters anymore. Killing isn't fun, even if it's killing creatures that shouldn't even be on this world in the first place. Lightning splits the sky into millions of fragments, and the rain that's already coming down in enormous torrents falls even harder and faster. I try to pick up my pace, but only succeed in nearly giving myself a faceplant in the hard rock. I look around me, and still see many trying to fight. Perhaps they didn't hear the call. I repeat it, as loud as I can, but my voice, already hoarse from giving orders all night, comes out as a croak. As horrible as my command sounded, it worked. All around me I see elves and men fleeing for their lives. The great monsters, seeing us fleeing, sense a victory and press down on us even harder. What was I to think that they could feel pain and sadness? How could I believe that they cared for anything? That they really didn't want to be here killing untold numbers of people? How could it have taken me so long to realize that all they are are killing machines?
Something thuds into my back and I gasp in pain. I should turn and fight, but I've had enough. All I want to do is to get back to the keep and hope against all hope that this horrible battle can be over so I can go back and to peaceful woods of Lorien again and sail to the Grey Havens. There, there will be no war, no fighting, no bloodshed, and no death. I place a hand on my wound and remove it. It's sticky with blood. The dark read mingles with the rain, and it washes off my hand. But it's not gone. It'll never be gone. The pain spreads and I keep stumbling forwards, determined not to turn around and determined to make it back to the keep. I've fought enough today, I won't kill anymore unless I must, even if the life I take is that of a monster which relishes in killing and death. I hear footsteps behind me and turn to see who it is, forgetting my resolve to not look back and letting years of training take hold. The next minute I wonder if I could have escaped had I not taken that split second to look behind me. The rain comes down in sheets and I can barely see the bow I hold in front of my face. The next moment something hits me on the back of my head. Everything goes black. And then white. My quiver grows heavier and heavier. My beautifully carved bow slips out of my grasp and my fingers cannot grab onto it anymore. My eyes close and the welcome darkness surrounds me. I shake my head, I can't go to sleep, I've got to keep on going. I have to make it back to the keep. I struggle to take a step and my knees buckle. I feel so strange. The darkness is so welcoming, so soft, quiet, peaceful. If only I could slip into it and never come out. My body sways, and I see others lying on the floor. The beckon to me, but NO, I can't I have to get u, make it back. Out of the rain. Again I look at the others who have fallen and yield to their call. I can't. I musn't. I've got to stand. An arm drops around my shoulders. And the shadows overwhelm me. Those calls for me to yield to the eternal sleep summon me. And I succumb in it, just as I hear a voice, "Haldir."
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I can tell that we're fighting a loosing battle just as I hear the call to retreat. The night is cold and the howling wind whips my soaking wet hair across my face. I obey the order and run, tripping over the fallen bodies laying there in the cold. There are elves, men and many uruk- hai lying dead on the icy stone floor. I look at some of them and wonder where they come from, who their family was, and what madness drove them here to the bitter darkness of this horrible battle. And then I wonder if they even knew that they died, if they knew what hit them before falling lifeless onto the ground. I wonder if they died slowly and painfully, injured by the fatal stroke of a flashing sword. Or did they die so suddenly they just fell into darkness and never landed again, nobody will ever know because none of us shall ever live to tell about it. For every uruk-hai I kill, I know there will be six more coming at me. As hard as I fight, it's never hard enough.
I shake my head to keep the water from dripping into my eyes and keep stumbling forward. All I know now is that I don't want to be here anymore. Believe I'm a coward if you will, believe what you want. None of it matters anymore. Killing isn't fun, even if it's killing creatures that shouldn't even be on this world in the first place. Lightning splits the sky into millions of fragments, and the rain that's already coming down in enormous torrents falls even harder and faster. I try to pick up my pace, but only succeed in nearly giving myself a faceplant in the hard rock. I look around me, and still see many trying to fight. Perhaps they didn't hear the call. I repeat it, as loud as I can, but my voice, already hoarse from giving orders all night, comes out as a croak. As horrible as my command sounded, it worked. All around me I see elves and men fleeing for their lives. The great monsters, seeing us fleeing, sense a victory and press down on us even harder. What was I to think that they could feel pain and sadness? How could I believe that they cared for anything? That they really didn't want to be here killing untold numbers of people? How could it have taken me so long to realize that all they are are killing machines?
Something thuds into my back and I gasp in pain. I should turn and fight, but I've had enough. All I want to do is to get back to the keep and hope against all hope that this horrible battle can be over so I can go back and to peaceful woods of Lorien again and sail to the Grey Havens. There, there will be no war, no fighting, no bloodshed, and no death. I place a hand on my wound and remove it. It's sticky with blood. The dark read mingles with the rain, and it washes off my hand. But it's not gone. It'll never be gone. The pain spreads and I keep stumbling forwards, determined not to turn around and determined to make it back to the keep. I've fought enough today, I won't kill anymore unless I must, even if the life I take is that of a monster which relishes in killing and death. I hear footsteps behind me and turn to see who it is, forgetting my resolve to not look back and letting years of training take hold. The next minute I wonder if I could have escaped had I not taken that split second to look behind me. The rain comes down in sheets and I can barely see the bow I hold in front of my face. The next moment something hits me on the back of my head. Everything goes black. And then white. My quiver grows heavier and heavier. My beautifully carved bow slips out of my grasp and my fingers cannot grab onto it anymore. My eyes close and the welcome darkness surrounds me. I shake my head, I can't go to sleep, I've got to keep on going. I have to make it back to the keep. I struggle to take a step and my knees buckle. I feel so strange. The darkness is so welcoming, so soft, quiet, peaceful. If only I could slip into it and never come out. My body sways, and I see others lying on the floor. The beckon to me, but NO, I can't I have to get u, make it back. Out of the rain. Again I look at the others who have fallen and yield to their call. I can't. I musn't. I've got to stand. An arm drops around my shoulders. And the shadows overwhelm me. Those calls for me to yield to the eternal sleep summon me. And I succumb in it, just as I hear a voice, "Haldir."