Well, another week (or two), another chapter. This one's a little
longer- I seem to have a habit of writing more and more. Hopefully this
sounds okay- I've worked on it for a while. So, read, relax, and enjoy.
For ownership claims read chapter one
Oh, and reviews would be nice. Also just ignore the horrible elvish grammar (don't worry you'll find out soon enough.)
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Coping
Two of his men had come for Emlyn's body a short while ago leaving an indent of the deceased man on the ground between Yestin and Strider. The young man had not spoken since admitting his unfamiliarality with death. Yestin looked a the man for minutes, the terror in his eyes intriguing him. He did not understand how a mortal like Strider could not be accustomed to death, it was something that Yestin had been fully aware of since childhood. Did Strider not realize that one day he would leave this world. Yestin's thoughts were interrupted by a young voice. Turning he saw that it was Tudor, the young man they had found wandering in the wilds a few years prior.
'Sir, Romney is requesting that we get moving. He fears the orcs might return in larger numbers. We cannot be caught here.' Yestin frowned, he knew that Romney was right, but he feared Strider was not ready. He did not know how the night's events would affect him, if he would be able to put them past him or succumb to his emotions. But such did not matter, he could not sacrifice the needs of one for the safety of many.
'Tell Romney that we shall be ready to leave within that half hour.'
Tudor nodded, quickly turning to report back to Romney. Yestin turned back to Strider. Somehow he would have to get the man moving, he would not leave him here. Taking a deep breath, he started, but Strider interrupted
'You need not worry about me sir. I am ready to go.' Strider spoke, slowly rising. Yestin stared up at him, Yestin did not understand. How could the man, who moments earlier had been weeping and terribly frightened, now be fine. Despite being relieved that Strider was 'okay,' he was concerned by the sudden change- Strider, it seemed, was not really okay. But it would have to do for now, Strider was up and moving- a feat Yestin thought minutes earlier to be near impossible.
'Alright then. Clean up a bit, if you wish. Then grab your gear. We will depart in twenty minutes.'
'Aye.' Strider spoke solemnly as he picked up his sword and headed back to camp. Yestin looked at the ground again. Silently mulling over the day's events and its tragic end, he began to speak softly:
Ai, Emlyn le raen rem sad
godref lin rem idhrinn
godref trasta a fuin ú ista an edain.
Úirpen lin beren ú delu
goe ú sila
sui le dar beren a orchal dan pân.
Nîn estel mellon
lin ist on nin estel
a lin goroth beleg aglar.
Mae le crom
oaile innas in ista le
a ú innas in awartha le.
Nai ir Valar tirith that le
vi lin lend an man innas aphad
a heb le thand vi lin and abcvil.
Garo ú achas nîn milvi Emlyn
aphad lin hûn
sui ist boe na lin landrada.
Regaining his composure, Yestin took a deep breath, his was mourning complete. He rose to his feet as if just having washed himself of dirt. Turning slowly, he hesitated, he was not yet prepared to go back to camp. Something drew his eyes to the clear night sky, it was a dim star. He looked at it curiously, it was Eärendil. Why should it wane tonight, on such a clear night?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After conferring for a few moments, Yestin and Romney decided to take the northern route, rather than risk the eastern path which was littered with orc encampments. Romney had also taken their short conference to inform him of the damage they had suffered during the attack. It was not encouraging. They had lost Rhisiart, Reese, Pedr, and Lloyd and another six were injured. They would have to find a safe shelter somewhere quickly as Ffionn and Cledwyn would not survive the five day journey to Rohan with their extensive injuries.
Weighing his options, Yestin took an inventory of his men. Their numbers had decreased rather sharply- from 38 to 33 and with the wounded they were down to 27 effective fighters. Twenty-seven fighters, he thought, that were exhausted and starved from their rush from camp. Yet he knew that they would not quit on him, they would each die for him for they trusted him greatly. Hearing a moan escape from Ffionn who laid on a makeshift cart attached to the back of Yestin's might steed, he called for Romney to come beside him. Speaking with a sense of urgency, Yestin began quietly.
'Romney, the men cannot last much longer. We have gained enough ground between us and any orcs that would wish to pursue us. I want you to take three of the men with you and ride ahead. Find us a shelter where we can spend a few nights while we tend to the wounded. Then send two men back to meet us.' Romney nodded his head in acknowledgement calling for Penrose, Ynyr, and Trysten to follow him.
Yestin sighed, soon his men would have a chance to rest. They would stay only for a couple of nights. If Ffionn and Cledwyn were not fit for travel by then, then they would have to risk splitting up, an idea that Yestin did not like. Their numbers were already decreased as it was, splitting up would only put them at a greater risk. Yet he knew that he must get to Rohan soon.
Yestin turned to check on Strider. He caught the young man's head dropping. Smiling to himself, he watched as Strider bolted upright, catching himself sleeping. He frowned, however, as he took notice of Strider's bloody hands gripping the reins of his horse tightly. He hadn't bothered to changed his stained and tattered clothes. Yestin was wary. Strider did not seem to be aware of his surroundings; he did not even flinch as the wind whipped through his clothes causing them to twirl about him as if surrounded by a tornado. He simply stared ahead, silently watching the land in front.
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The men hungrily ate the soup that Strider had prepared from the meat and vegetables they had. When they finished he cleaned up, setting aside a small bowl for himself which he sat down to eat in a corner far away from the center of the camp. It was there that Yestin found him- gently stirring his soup. Yestin fumbled for words, he didn't know how to begin. He knew the best way to help was to talk, but he mustn't let Strider feel like he was being mothered.
'Your wounds must be attended to Strider.' Yestin began. The young man did not answer right away, instead he watched the chunks of potatoes float in his soup.
'Aye, I know.' Strider finally spoke, his voice void of emotion.
'I need to clean and bandage them before they become infected. I do cannot afford to have you fall sick with the others. Will you allow me to treat them?' Yestin rambled, he was still unsure of how to offer help to Strider, he did not want him to feel like a child.
'Do as you wish.' Strider reluctantly consented.
Yestin knelt beside Strider's left side, gently setting down the bowl of water and his pack. He rolled up the man's sleeve and picked up the towel from the bowl. As he touched the fresh wound on Strider's arm, the man pulled back a bit, but forced himself to stay put as Yestin cleaned the wound of the night's dirt and grime. Yestin reached for his pack, pulling out a small roll of bandages and began to wrap the now clean cut on Strider's arm. As he neared the end of the cut, he looked up, noticing that Strider continued to stir his soup.
'You know the soup would do you more good if you ate it, rather than stir it.' Yestin's attempt to lighten the mood fell sharply as Strider refused to speak. 'Why did not you seek treatment for your cuts before we left camp,' he inquired. 'You really shouldn't have traveled with these deep cuts- something could have happened.'
'I would have welcomed whatever happened. I did not think that I deserved any kind of treatment.' Strider muttered angrily. Yestin looked at Strider puzzled, why should he feel that he is unworthy of treatment?
'Why?'
'I'm responsible.'
'For what?' Yestin gently prodded Strider when he did not continue.
'For everything. Emlyn's death, the others dying, the injures, the orcs, the hunt. This entire mess! It's all my fault!' Strider cried back loudly.
Now Yestin understood.
'It is not all your fault,' he tried to soothe Strider's feeling's of guilt. 'Have you forgotten that I was the one who made the decisions, the I am the leader?'
'But I was the one who messed up.'
'Aye, but it was I that chose to take you on the hunt, I that decided to go on a hunt and I that decided to light the fire that attracted the orcs.'
'But what about the fire in the cave, the one that I didn't cover completely. Didn't that attract orcs too?'
'I said that it was done correctly, I decided that it was okay to leave. And I doubt that orcs tracked us from that fire pit. I do not think they have that much intelligence.' Strider smiled a bit.
'What about the sneeze and ruining the hunt?' Strider asked.
'That was you fault,' Yestin spoke bluntly, 'but if you hadn't ruined the hunt, then we would have come back later and the orcs might have caused more damage, killed more men.'
'So I did something right?' Strider looked up, puzzled.
'Indirectly, yes.' Yestin replied cautiously. Strider thought for a minute.
'What about Emlyn?'
'You are not at fault for his death. Emlyn was fighting, protecting the camp and the men from the orcs. The blame for his death and the death of the others rests only on me for I ordered the fire to be built. You merely did as I told you.' There was a silence between the two as Strider thought and Yestin continued to clean his wounds. As Yestin was wrapping the last wound on Strider's sword arm, the young man finally met Yestin's eyes.
'I know that you seek to comfort me and assure me that I am not at fault for any deaths, but I still feel as though I am at fault for something more than a ruined hunt- that it is my fault that we are in this situation.'
Yestin looked into the man's face. How could he get him to understand that it was not his fault, he was merely obeying orders. Why did he feel the need to take the blame. It was not that Yestin wanted it all to himself, it was just that Strider did not need to take on blame?
'Why Strider, do you feel that you must take some of the blame? You must understand that as an errand boy you obey my orders, I tell you to do what I think is right and at the end of the day if you have done all that I have asked, then whatever happens because of it my fault. I told you what I felt was right to do. I believed that we were safe to build a fire, but I was wrong. We shouldn't have built it. I am the one who takes the blame for the deaths and injuries, you are not at fault.' Yestin paused, there was something more he felt he needed to say, 'And in the end when our faults are past and unable to be changed, the best we can do is learn from them. It is useless to try to change- they are done. Instead we take our lesson from it and learn to accept that what is done is done. We cannot change the past.'
Strider thought as Yestin's last words reverberated in his mind, he was right. Whatever happened had happened and he could not undo it- all he could do was learn from it and go on. The past cannot be redone. Finally he felt as though he understood. He was set to restore the Kingdom of Gondor because he was Isildur's heir and nothing he might try would change that for it was his destiny, his fate, he realized. But it was not reassuring- the thought of him one day becoming the king of his people unnerved him- how could he, an ordinary person become king? Why should anyone listen to him- why should they believe him? Yet, despite all of Strider's new worries and concerns he smiled- things had just gotten a little better.
'Alas, I fear that I am once again indebted to you. I only hope that one day I shall be able to repay you for your kindness.' Strider spoke warmly to Yestin.
'Do not worry Strider, the services you provide us with are payment enough.'
'Services? You still want me to be your errand boy?'
'Of course, why should I get rid of someone who can fight against orcs just as well as any one I have know.'
'Aye, sir.' Strider stood, turning to head back to camp. 'Is there anything you wish me to do before I turn in for the night?'
'Just answer me a question.' Strider nodded, 'How did you learn to fight orcs, I thought you were did not know how to survive on your own. That fighting looked like you're pretty used to the wild.'
Strider suddenly felt trapped, he could not tell the truth- that he had fought with elves. Feeling the pressure of Yestin's staring eyes, he forced himself to come up with a lie.
'Orcs roamed often roamed near my home. I was sent out at a young age with my brothers to hunt the orcs.'
Yestin watched Strider as he walked back to camp. The story sounded plausible, but something told him that it wasn't the truth. There was something that told him that there was more to Strider than what was being told, but he couldn't place his finger on it.
For the second time that night Yestin was drawn to the night sky. It was now cloudy, yet the stars shined brightly even Eärendil . He was puzzled, earlier it was dim even though there were no clouds in the sky and flickered as if something was troubling it. But now it shined brightly in the early morning sky even through the scattered clouds that had drifted across the sky. How odd, he thought as he smiled, it should be dimmer now, not brighter. Something had happened that night- something odd and yet miraculous.
Elvish translation of Yestin's prayer
Ai, Emlyn you wandered many places
through you many years
through dangers and darkness unknown to men.
Yet your courage never wavered
fear never shined
as you stood brave and tall against all perils.
My most trusted ally
you wisdom gave me comfort
and your caution great ability.
Though you have gone
forever will I remember you
and never will I forsake you.
May the Valar watch over you
in you trek to what shall come next
and keep you safe during your long afterlife.
Have no fear my kind Emlyn
follow your heart
as wisdom shall be your guide.
For ownership claims read chapter one
Oh, and reviews would be nice. Also just ignore the horrible elvish grammar (don't worry you'll find out soon enough.)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Coping
Two of his men had come for Emlyn's body a short while ago leaving an indent of the deceased man on the ground between Yestin and Strider. The young man had not spoken since admitting his unfamiliarality with death. Yestin looked a the man for minutes, the terror in his eyes intriguing him. He did not understand how a mortal like Strider could not be accustomed to death, it was something that Yestin had been fully aware of since childhood. Did Strider not realize that one day he would leave this world. Yestin's thoughts were interrupted by a young voice. Turning he saw that it was Tudor, the young man they had found wandering in the wilds a few years prior.
'Sir, Romney is requesting that we get moving. He fears the orcs might return in larger numbers. We cannot be caught here.' Yestin frowned, he knew that Romney was right, but he feared Strider was not ready. He did not know how the night's events would affect him, if he would be able to put them past him or succumb to his emotions. But such did not matter, he could not sacrifice the needs of one for the safety of many.
'Tell Romney that we shall be ready to leave within that half hour.'
Tudor nodded, quickly turning to report back to Romney. Yestin turned back to Strider. Somehow he would have to get the man moving, he would not leave him here. Taking a deep breath, he started, but Strider interrupted
'You need not worry about me sir. I am ready to go.' Strider spoke, slowly rising. Yestin stared up at him, Yestin did not understand. How could the man, who moments earlier had been weeping and terribly frightened, now be fine. Despite being relieved that Strider was 'okay,' he was concerned by the sudden change- Strider, it seemed, was not really okay. But it would have to do for now, Strider was up and moving- a feat Yestin thought minutes earlier to be near impossible.
'Alright then. Clean up a bit, if you wish. Then grab your gear. We will depart in twenty minutes.'
'Aye.' Strider spoke solemnly as he picked up his sword and headed back to camp. Yestin looked at the ground again. Silently mulling over the day's events and its tragic end, he began to speak softly:
Ai, Emlyn le raen rem sad
godref lin rem idhrinn
godref trasta a fuin ú ista an edain.
Úirpen lin beren ú delu
goe ú sila
sui le dar beren a orchal dan pân.
Nîn estel mellon
lin ist on nin estel
a lin goroth beleg aglar.
Mae le crom
oaile innas in ista le
a ú innas in awartha le.
Nai ir Valar tirith that le
vi lin lend an man innas aphad
a heb le thand vi lin and abcvil.
Garo ú achas nîn milvi Emlyn
aphad lin hûn
sui ist boe na lin landrada.
Regaining his composure, Yestin took a deep breath, his was mourning complete. He rose to his feet as if just having washed himself of dirt. Turning slowly, he hesitated, he was not yet prepared to go back to camp. Something drew his eyes to the clear night sky, it was a dim star. He looked at it curiously, it was Eärendil. Why should it wane tonight, on such a clear night?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After conferring for a few moments, Yestin and Romney decided to take the northern route, rather than risk the eastern path which was littered with orc encampments. Romney had also taken their short conference to inform him of the damage they had suffered during the attack. It was not encouraging. They had lost Rhisiart, Reese, Pedr, and Lloyd and another six were injured. They would have to find a safe shelter somewhere quickly as Ffionn and Cledwyn would not survive the five day journey to Rohan with their extensive injuries.
Weighing his options, Yestin took an inventory of his men. Their numbers had decreased rather sharply- from 38 to 33 and with the wounded they were down to 27 effective fighters. Twenty-seven fighters, he thought, that were exhausted and starved from their rush from camp. Yet he knew that they would not quit on him, they would each die for him for they trusted him greatly. Hearing a moan escape from Ffionn who laid on a makeshift cart attached to the back of Yestin's might steed, he called for Romney to come beside him. Speaking with a sense of urgency, Yestin began quietly.
'Romney, the men cannot last much longer. We have gained enough ground between us and any orcs that would wish to pursue us. I want you to take three of the men with you and ride ahead. Find us a shelter where we can spend a few nights while we tend to the wounded. Then send two men back to meet us.' Romney nodded his head in acknowledgement calling for Penrose, Ynyr, and Trysten to follow him.
Yestin sighed, soon his men would have a chance to rest. They would stay only for a couple of nights. If Ffionn and Cledwyn were not fit for travel by then, then they would have to risk splitting up, an idea that Yestin did not like. Their numbers were already decreased as it was, splitting up would only put them at a greater risk. Yet he knew that he must get to Rohan soon.
Yestin turned to check on Strider. He caught the young man's head dropping. Smiling to himself, he watched as Strider bolted upright, catching himself sleeping. He frowned, however, as he took notice of Strider's bloody hands gripping the reins of his horse tightly. He hadn't bothered to changed his stained and tattered clothes. Yestin was wary. Strider did not seem to be aware of his surroundings; he did not even flinch as the wind whipped through his clothes causing them to twirl about him as if surrounded by a tornado. He simply stared ahead, silently watching the land in front.
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The men hungrily ate the soup that Strider had prepared from the meat and vegetables they had. When they finished he cleaned up, setting aside a small bowl for himself which he sat down to eat in a corner far away from the center of the camp. It was there that Yestin found him- gently stirring his soup. Yestin fumbled for words, he didn't know how to begin. He knew the best way to help was to talk, but he mustn't let Strider feel like he was being mothered.
'Your wounds must be attended to Strider.' Yestin began. The young man did not answer right away, instead he watched the chunks of potatoes float in his soup.
'Aye, I know.' Strider finally spoke, his voice void of emotion.
'I need to clean and bandage them before they become infected. I do cannot afford to have you fall sick with the others. Will you allow me to treat them?' Yestin rambled, he was still unsure of how to offer help to Strider, he did not want him to feel like a child.
'Do as you wish.' Strider reluctantly consented.
Yestin knelt beside Strider's left side, gently setting down the bowl of water and his pack. He rolled up the man's sleeve and picked up the towel from the bowl. As he touched the fresh wound on Strider's arm, the man pulled back a bit, but forced himself to stay put as Yestin cleaned the wound of the night's dirt and grime. Yestin reached for his pack, pulling out a small roll of bandages and began to wrap the now clean cut on Strider's arm. As he neared the end of the cut, he looked up, noticing that Strider continued to stir his soup.
'You know the soup would do you more good if you ate it, rather than stir it.' Yestin's attempt to lighten the mood fell sharply as Strider refused to speak. 'Why did not you seek treatment for your cuts before we left camp,' he inquired. 'You really shouldn't have traveled with these deep cuts- something could have happened.'
'I would have welcomed whatever happened. I did not think that I deserved any kind of treatment.' Strider muttered angrily. Yestin looked at Strider puzzled, why should he feel that he is unworthy of treatment?
'Why?'
'I'm responsible.'
'For what?' Yestin gently prodded Strider when he did not continue.
'For everything. Emlyn's death, the others dying, the injures, the orcs, the hunt. This entire mess! It's all my fault!' Strider cried back loudly.
Now Yestin understood.
'It is not all your fault,' he tried to soothe Strider's feeling's of guilt. 'Have you forgotten that I was the one who made the decisions, the I am the leader?'
'But I was the one who messed up.'
'Aye, but it was I that chose to take you on the hunt, I that decided to go on a hunt and I that decided to light the fire that attracted the orcs.'
'But what about the fire in the cave, the one that I didn't cover completely. Didn't that attract orcs too?'
'I said that it was done correctly, I decided that it was okay to leave. And I doubt that orcs tracked us from that fire pit. I do not think they have that much intelligence.' Strider smiled a bit.
'What about the sneeze and ruining the hunt?' Strider asked.
'That was you fault,' Yestin spoke bluntly, 'but if you hadn't ruined the hunt, then we would have come back later and the orcs might have caused more damage, killed more men.'
'So I did something right?' Strider looked up, puzzled.
'Indirectly, yes.' Yestin replied cautiously. Strider thought for a minute.
'What about Emlyn?'
'You are not at fault for his death. Emlyn was fighting, protecting the camp and the men from the orcs. The blame for his death and the death of the others rests only on me for I ordered the fire to be built. You merely did as I told you.' There was a silence between the two as Strider thought and Yestin continued to clean his wounds. As Yestin was wrapping the last wound on Strider's sword arm, the young man finally met Yestin's eyes.
'I know that you seek to comfort me and assure me that I am not at fault for any deaths, but I still feel as though I am at fault for something more than a ruined hunt- that it is my fault that we are in this situation.'
Yestin looked into the man's face. How could he get him to understand that it was not his fault, he was merely obeying orders. Why did he feel the need to take the blame. It was not that Yestin wanted it all to himself, it was just that Strider did not need to take on blame?
'Why Strider, do you feel that you must take some of the blame? You must understand that as an errand boy you obey my orders, I tell you to do what I think is right and at the end of the day if you have done all that I have asked, then whatever happens because of it my fault. I told you what I felt was right to do. I believed that we were safe to build a fire, but I was wrong. We shouldn't have built it. I am the one who takes the blame for the deaths and injuries, you are not at fault.' Yestin paused, there was something more he felt he needed to say, 'And in the end when our faults are past and unable to be changed, the best we can do is learn from them. It is useless to try to change- they are done. Instead we take our lesson from it and learn to accept that what is done is done. We cannot change the past.'
Strider thought as Yestin's last words reverberated in his mind, he was right. Whatever happened had happened and he could not undo it- all he could do was learn from it and go on. The past cannot be redone. Finally he felt as though he understood. He was set to restore the Kingdom of Gondor because he was Isildur's heir and nothing he might try would change that for it was his destiny, his fate, he realized. But it was not reassuring- the thought of him one day becoming the king of his people unnerved him- how could he, an ordinary person become king? Why should anyone listen to him- why should they believe him? Yet, despite all of Strider's new worries and concerns he smiled- things had just gotten a little better.
'Alas, I fear that I am once again indebted to you. I only hope that one day I shall be able to repay you for your kindness.' Strider spoke warmly to Yestin.
'Do not worry Strider, the services you provide us with are payment enough.'
'Services? You still want me to be your errand boy?'
'Of course, why should I get rid of someone who can fight against orcs just as well as any one I have know.'
'Aye, sir.' Strider stood, turning to head back to camp. 'Is there anything you wish me to do before I turn in for the night?'
'Just answer me a question.' Strider nodded, 'How did you learn to fight orcs, I thought you were did not know how to survive on your own. That fighting looked like you're pretty used to the wild.'
Strider suddenly felt trapped, he could not tell the truth- that he had fought with elves. Feeling the pressure of Yestin's staring eyes, he forced himself to come up with a lie.
'Orcs roamed often roamed near my home. I was sent out at a young age with my brothers to hunt the orcs.'
Yestin watched Strider as he walked back to camp. The story sounded plausible, but something told him that it wasn't the truth. There was something that told him that there was more to Strider than what was being told, but he couldn't place his finger on it.
For the second time that night Yestin was drawn to the night sky. It was now cloudy, yet the stars shined brightly even Eärendil . He was puzzled, earlier it was dim even though there were no clouds in the sky and flickered as if something was troubling it. But now it shined brightly in the early morning sky even through the scattered clouds that had drifted across the sky. How odd, he thought as he smiled, it should be dimmer now, not brighter. Something had happened that night- something odd and yet miraculous.
Elvish translation of Yestin's prayer
Ai, Emlyn you wandered many places
through you many years
through dangers and darkness unknown to men.
Yet your courage never wavered
fear never shined
as you stood brave and tall against all perils.
My most trusted ally
you wisdom gave me comfort
and your caution great ability.
Though you have gone
forever will I remember you
and never will I forsake you.
May the Valar watch over you
in you trek to what shall come next
and keep you safe during your long afterlife.
Have no fear my kind Emlyn
follow your heart
as wisdom shall be your guide.