A Rose Trapped Inside a Fist
Disclaimer: I disclaim owning anything of the Lord of the Rings trilogy or The Hobbit. I only own my own characters brought forth from my own wild imagination (Narloth, Erebwen, Rhovan, Belegor, Tindir, Dagorast and Ashare).
Chapter 10: A GAME OF SWORDS
Each training session was more gruesome and difficult than the last. I thought it would be a small comfort to know I wasn't going through it alone but I was wrong. Rhovan had passed me by one day, his hair disheveled, a bloody nose, and a black eye.
"What happened?" I asked.
"I was mistaken for a punching bag. Don't worry, I'm getting used to it," he said, grimacing. Hand to hand combat was his weakness, like mine was archery.
Neither of us realized how taxing and tough training would be and after I witnessed Rhovan getting pummeled into the ground each time his group practiced hand to hand I'd resolved to help him practice.
To add to things, many of those in my group hadn't said a kind word towards me. Like Belegor had warned, they were wary and didn't trust me. One had asked me after I won a hand to hand combat session if I'd ever been mistaken for a man. I'd said no and asked if he'd ever been mistaken for one. He hadn't said a word to me after that.
Another had confronted me about beating up Morlyg. His opinion was that I should have been punished for such actions. That I had used unnecessary force. I told him that Morlyg had hurt my best friend and I'd used everything I had.
They never bothered me with anything but words and I wasn't the thin-skinned type. I'd never worried about being in a group with them until I was told we would be going on patrol together. Tonight.
Could I trust them to have my back in battle?
But that wasn't my biggest worry. I still had many doubts about killing orcs. And in order to say my oath, I had to prove I could do this, that I could handle it. If I was unable I would not only risk my chance at becoming a guard, but I'd also risk all of Imladris believing I was a spy. Not to mention that Belegor would tear me a new one, especially after putting in a good word for me.
I remember my father saying, 'A man who wouldn't die for something wasn't fit to live.' But was the same person fit to live if they killed for their own gain? Just to become a guard?
I sigh and head to where our group is meeting for patrol. I'm nervous. Afraid. I braid my dark brown hair to keep myself busy, to keep my hands from shaking. I glance down at Firefrost. I've sparred many times and it's never shown it's power.
I shake my head in frustration. If I can't trust those in my group or my blade, what can I trust? My conscience rings in a clear voice, 'you must trust yourself.' Yes, I must trust myself. I hope that I have enough skill to fight. To not die. I shudder and push that thought away.
When we've all gathered, Belegor leads us to where we'll be scouting for the night. With so many of us sailing West there are few of us to patrol, only seven elves in our group. To my left I notice a familiar face. It's the elf that sparred against me with Belegor. I ask him his name, it's Arvellon. I can tell from his confidence and lack of nerves that he's done this before. He must sense my worry or the rest of the group's and begins explaining what patrol is like. It comforts me to know what to expect- which is usually nothing.
As I glance around, I notice Glorfindel has joined our group and that comforts me too. I had enjoyed practicing archery with him. I'd never seen a better archer, he never missed. My archery skills could definitely improve, despite him mentoring me.
When we reach our destination, Belegor directs us on where we're to stand.
The night air is brisk and the wind is laced with the chill of ice. Winter is coming and it will snow soon. I glance upwards, taking in the stars. The night sky is clear, the stars and moon casting shadows on the ground. The stars twinkle and the beauty calms me down. I hear movement to my right and see a raccoon nearby. Overhead, an owl glides past, its flapping wings silent as it explores the night. I relax. If the animals are out and unafraid there's nothing to fear.
Hours pass and nothing happens. My muscles begin to feel stiff and I'm getting bored. Then a prickling sensation causes the hair on my neck to stand on end. The animals have left and it's quiet, too quiet. A darkness creeps its way into my mind and I sense evil. I strain my eyes and ears and pick up footsteps, lots of footsteps. All the fear that had left me rushes back. I look around wondering if there are enough of us and notice Belegor and Glorfindel gesturing everyone towards them. I make my way over to them. We have a better chance of defeating them huddled together than spread out.
"Draw your swords," Glorfindel commands. He and Belegor have their bows knocked with arrows. "Your job is to clean up whatever escapes our arrows."
I bring Firefrost out of its sheath.
"Don't fail me now," I whisper to it.
I see Belegor send one of our group for help. I hope he finds it and it arrives quickly. We were going to need it based on the number of footfalls I hear.
Arvellon stands next to me and gives me an encouraging nod. I return the gesture- not that he needs encouragement. He looks like an immovable rock, strong and sturdy. Meanwhile, I try to slow my panicked breathing, hoping no one notices my fear.
When the first orcs come into view I feel frozen, me feet attached to the ground. A tremor runs down my spine and I watch as arrows whiz past and they begin to fall. I try to count them, to see how outnumbered we are but there are too many and they're moving too quickly. The orcs that manage to escape arrows head our way and I feel myself shaking. This was it. I can't look like a spy I remind myself. I have to do this.
I watch as an orc rushes toward me, his mouth curving into a vicious smile. I raise Naurniss and the blade seems to pulse with heat as though it senses battle. The orc is nearly upon me when I hear something behind me and suddenly Rhovan appears by my side and with no hesitation he charges forward, cutting down orcs. I watch him for a moment, surprised and envious of his bravery. When I turn back I see Arvellon slashing the throat of the orc in front of me, the one I'd turned away from. I'd glanced back for only a second and it almost cost me my life. I yell out a thanks to him and silently scold myself for not paying attention.
I notice an orc coming up behind Rhovan and that's when my fear leaves me. Something else awakens and I don't think, I just act. My feet propel me forward almost on their own accord and I raise Firefrost. Before I can deliver my swing an arrow makes its way into the orc's skull and it falls. I glance over to see who shot it but Belegor and Glorfindel are weaving all around.
Nearby, another orc tries to take a slash at me and I quickly dodge. Firefrost seems to pulse in my hand again and we're suddenly connected, linked somehow and I know every move the orc is going to make. Left, right, up, down, I see it coming. I counter his swings easily but an arrow slides into his chest and he falls. At this rate, I may never have to kill any orcs. I smile down at Firefrost. I've discovered its power and it feels like cheating. I love it.
Arrows whiz by me and I look for the nearest orc. There are plenty to choose from but one catches my eye. A hulking figure sparring with Arvellon who looks like he's already been injured. I run towards him, to help. I hear a groan of pain and see him clutch his chest. There's a dagger protruding from it and I stop in my tracks. Arvellon's face is pale and he collapses to the ground. Amidst all the turmoil my ears center in on his heartbeat. I begin running again as I hear it slow and then it stops. He's dead. Shock and fear clutch my heart but there is no time to grieve as the orc standing over him turns my way. His blade is dark with blood, Arvellon's blood. Anger wells up inside me and I cast my fear away and charge forward, seeking revenge. The orc grins and when I reach him our blades connect and once again Firefrost shows me his every move. After blocking a couple of his blows I see an opening. I muster all my strength, draw back, and swing. Firefrost connects with the side of the orc's neck, hard and deep. The orc gives a horrible, sickening shriek that makes my skin crawl. Even so it tries to move toward me. I draw back and hit again. Its hands clutch at its throat and its knees give way. My next swing results in decapitation. Its body hit's the ground, its eyes look up at me as though it can't believe what just happened. That makes two of us.
My first kill.
Anger has replaced my fear and as more orcs rush toward me, Firefrost and I greet them with pleasure. I stab the nearest one in the abdomen and when he continues to attack I slash his throat. Blood spatters my face and I search for my next victim. I kill several more and then glance around looking for others but the battle is over. I let out a sigh when I spot Rhovan but then my body goes rigid when I see Arvellon. Several elves are picking him up to take him back. Does he have a family? Kids? How old was he? The questions fill my mind but no answers come. I barely knew him.
I feel my rage returning. He had been taken so cruelly and without warning. I feel guilty for not being able to save him. I should've done something, helped somehow. I feel like I should have remorse for killing, for taking lives myself, but I don't. Perhaps something inside me thirsts for this. For a fight. I glance down at Firefrost, taking in how the metal gleamed in the moonlight, how the pale steel was mingled and soaked in blood. Maybe we both thirsted for this.
Belegor signals for everyone to follow him and I fall in step with Rhovan, wiping Firefrost clean and returning it to its sheathe. When I glance up at him I see him squeeze his eyes shut and frown.
"Are you alright?" I ask stupidly. Of course he isn't okay.
He straightens and his familiar smirk returns, but it doesn't reach his eyes.
"I've been so arrogant," he says. "I thought I'd come out of my first battle without a scratch."
I can tell he's hiding his true feelings by making a joke but I don't press him about it. He lifts the sleeve of his shirt up and I see a small gash. Nothing serious.
"It wasn't what I expected," I say.
He looks at me curiously.
"I've never felt so…alive," I say, remembering the adrenaline rush.
"You're never more alive than in battle," someone near us agrees.
"Never more dead after," whispers one of the elves carrying Arvellon.
Dread and sorrow fill my heart and I look down at the ground. That could be me they're carrying. Or Rhovan. This isn't the practice field. It's not a game, or a test, it's real. These patrols were something I'd have to deal with as a guard. The cost was high but I had to do it. My dad's voice rings in my head, 'experience is a brutal teacher, but you learn.'
Our group is silent as we make our way back and when we reach Imladris, Glorfindel and those carrying Arvellon report tonight's events to Lord Elrond.
Belegor addresses the rest of us and says, "being challenged in life is inevitable, being defeated is optional. As guards we are constantly challenged to improve, to fight, to protect. Everyone here fought well today. Let's take a moment of silence in honor of Arvellon who protected his home, our home with his life. Imladris will remember the bravery and sacrifice of him forever."
We are all silent and I can hear a few of the others crying. As I stand in the small crowd I think of Belegor's words. I disagree with him- defeat isn't just an option, it was a guarantee. The grave was always waiting, ever hungry.
I begin to feel rage again. He had saved me; he didn't deserve to die. I should have saved him, should have been watching out for him. Why was life so unfair to those who deserved fairness the most?
Later as I head home I feel unnerved. I shed blood, took lives, and I feel no remorse. I try to make myself feel something- regret, sadness, guilt, something. But I feel nothing. And that scares me.
I kneel before Lord Elrond and say the words I've memorized. My oath.
"I, Narloth, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend Imladris against all enemies, both foreign and domestic; that I will bear true faith and allegiance to the same; and that I will obey the orders of Lord Elrond and the orders of those appointed over me."
"And why do you wish to be a guard?" he asks, brow furrowed.
The question catches me off guard and my first reaction is to say I joined the guard because of the prophecy, because I needed the experience. That's why I joined but it's not why I want to become a guard. Watching Arvellon die woke up something inside me. Whether it was anger or bravery, I can't say. I just know protecting my friends and home is worth fighting for. Even dying for. Stopping the evil that plagued this land was now my mission.
I look Lord Elrond in the eye, now confident of my answer and say, "I wish to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to deny fear the power to influence my decisions, and because I no longer want to stand idly by. This is my home, the people my family, and I wish to defend them."
He studies me for a moment, an unreadable expression crossing his face.
"I have no doubt that you will. You have shown true loyalty and I accept your oath."
"It's an honor my Lord."
"I hope your sword continues to help you against your enemies in battle."
I glance up at him, startled. How does he know?
"You always seem so surprised," he says, chuckling. "I read too, you know."
I laugh a little, glancing at Naurniss. How much did he know?
"Did my Father ever explain how he acquired it? My family isn't related to Gwindor."
He holds his hand out, reaching for the blade. I pass it over almost hesitant. The sword had been by my side for months and after our first battle, our first kill, I was attached to it now. Lord Elrond seems to notice and smiles. He draws the blade from its sheath and seems to inspect it.
"When Gwindor died in battle it was left with no owner and being very plain is became lost, indistinguishable, from the other plain swords on the battlefield. Your father found it on a trip and picked it up thinking it would be a good sword for you one day."
"I think he was right," I say, thinking of how much it had helped me. "I wonder why he never told me of its abilities and I remember thinking it was strange that he called it Firefrost, that he used common tongue."
"He knew you would find out some day," he says. "The time wasn't right for him to tell you."
"Bit of a shock to find out in the middle of an orc attack," I say.
He laughs, handing my sword back. "Would you have believed it if someone had told you?"
"No," I admit, smiling.
He shakes his head and I pause, staring at him. How much does he know about the prophecy, about my dreams? I have so many questions, so many unanswered thoughts clouding my mind.
He reads the seriousness in my face and curiosity in my eyes and lets out a sigh.
"I know you have questions. But I'm afraid my knowledge concerning anything you wish to know has reached its limit. I have no answers for you."
"But you've seen things, haven't you? Pieces of the future?"
"I have seen much and yet little. The meaning of what I have seen is uncertain and would only cloud your thoughts with more questions," he says.
I look at my feet in disappointment.
"Don't be so eager to learn every secret, it may just change your entire life- and not always in a good way."
I nod but I feel like he's hiding something. What is he not telling me and why?
I visit Erebwen and Rhovan later. They've begun spending time with each other again and things seem to be going well. Really well.
When I find them they are holding hands and laughing.
They notice the seriousness of my face and frown.
"What's wrong?"
I shake my head, "it's nothing."
They eye me suspiciously, looking like relentless parents who won't give up until they hear the truth. I sigh. I am too tired and my mind too full of questions and doubts to hold it in. I glance at Rhovan and he raises an eyebrow expectantly.
"Do you feel remorse for killing the orcs?"
His head shoots up but he doesn't look surprised, as if he knew what had been bothering me. Erebwen looks back and forth at us, her face grim and serious now.
"Yes," he finally says.
Heat rushes to my eyes but I force the fear and the tears back, even as more questions fill my mind. Why did I feel nothing, nothing but anger? I'd been so afraid to take lives and now that I had, I felt nothing. Was I really so cold? So cruel?
I look back up at them and pray and beg neither of them ask me the same question I'd asked Rhovan. But I can see the curiosity in their eyes, making its way to their mouths, ready to roll off their lips.
I spring from the seat of the couch, bursting through the door before their words crush me. I chase every question and thought from my mind and run. I sprint until I can go no further, until my sides heave and ache.
I brace myself against the nearest tree, my heart pounding. I look behind me, making sure no one has followed and slide down into the grass. I shut my eyes and try to calm down. After running so hard, if I cry now, I won't be able to breathe at all. So that's what I focus on, breathing.
When my heart rate slows to a normal pace I open my eyes. I notice that my feet have not lead me to the practice field this time and an odd giggle almost escapes me. I've officially gone mad. I suddenly sense someone nearby and see Belegor making his way down the trunk of a pine. Great- just what I needed.
"What are you running from?" he calls out as his feet reach the ground.
"Nothing. There's nothing out here," I say, confused.
He's silent until he reaches me.
"You don't run like that unless you're running from something."
I get up to leave. I want to be alone and do not want to deal with this right now. He catches my arm and my hand automatically clenches into a fist.
"Narloth," he says, gently stopping me in my tracks.
I glance up at him, giving him a warning glance. He releases my arm.
I stare at him and flashback to the conversation we'd had after the warg attack, when I'd told him I wasn't sure if I could kill.
'But they're orcs,' he'd said.
I remember how cold his voice had turned as if the very word: orc was a bitter taste in his mouth. Did he feel no remorse for killing? Was he like me?
"Saving lives has side effects," he says.
His eyes seem to bore into mine, searching me out. He knows, I can feel it. The doubt, the fear, the same emotions have been held inside him before. Each emotion is there, within his eyes.
He sighs, sitting down on the grass, and I join him.
"How is it affecting you?"
It surprises me that I'm willing to answer him and yet not my friends. Not to mention the fact that he's yelled at me, pushed me to ground, and cut me with his blade. But he knows, he understands.
"All I feel is anger," I reply.
"I felt the same after my first battle, my first kill. Still do."
"You've never felt guilty?'
He shakes his head. "No, just anger and conviction. And when you're full of conviction, violence is inevitable."
I pause, reflecting on his words.
"I just want to protect others- whatever the cost," I finally say. "I don't want to kill but, like you said- it's inevitable. As guards, we chose this."
He nods. "It scares you, doesn't it? Did me too. Thought I was a bad person, that not feeling guilt meant I was cruel. I don't particularly like killing people, but I'm good at it."
I let his words sink in and they lift and fill my heart. I am not alone and I'm not cruel. I'm the same person I always was, just stronger, and called to a new purpose.
He looks over at me seriously, sternly even.
"Don't fall apart," he says and I realize this isn't a request, it's a command. "If you do, the orcs win."
Then he stands up and moments later when I turn around he's vanished like a wisp of smoke.