Chapter 6.5, The Life Back Home

"Commander Rían is dead."

The Southern Settlement was a place Thalos knew well. He had founded it after all, since he'd proposed and helped fund the project. Because of the extensive fighting done in the southern and most dangerous part of Mirkwood, Thalos had thought of building a base there so that troops could be more comfortable fighting. The construction had taken various men and countless months to build, but it had served its purpose well. The barricaded compound had currently 300 deployed soldiers and offered them living facilities, to make it as warm and familiar to their actual homes as possible. However, the danger remained there. Darkness lurked strongly here, and just the mere presence had driven hundreds of elves mad before. Various had died of the pressure, oppression and dark spirit their posts provided, much before the real fighting had started. And that, itself, was an entirely other issue.

But Thalos was much stronger than that.

He, two other commanders and two generals sat cross-legged in a well-furnished tent. Thalos knew these meetings were necessary, since he needed others' wisdom, seeing as he was Mirkwood's youngest commander up-to-date, but sometimes he despised them. It...it just was too somber for his taste. Like dark, dark wine, bitter and cold, lacking honey or sugar. The atmosphere was always negative, always down. And these meetings were all those cold feelings crushed together. And he hated the aura of these meetings too. There was too much aromatic incense, too many bottles of wine and alcohol and sometimes, too much tension. Although war did that to people, it seemed.

Thalos preferred drinking light herbal tea during these meetings, despite his eternal love for Dorwinion. The tea cleared his head a bit and relieved some of his tension. He sat next to Commander Círran, a gold-haired commander with a cheerful complexion and beyond excellent short-range fighting skills. He could make everything happier and had a sense of charisma he had always wanted to have. He'd taken Thalos under his wing when he'd first became a commander and Thalos had always liked him and his amiable character. Every challenge he faced was treated with mirth, making it easier to accomplish, and it was as if slaughtering the filths from Mirkwood was just another game of cards for him...except, Commander Círran knew it wasn't just a game. It was life or death. And when it came to that, he was as dead serious as anyone else here.

Next to Commander Círran was Commander Maegorodon, apparently a good friend of Commander Círran. It was a surprise, considering they were exact opposites. Thalos respected him, but preferred not to be associated with him. He was a fearsome commander, and had gotten his post through brutal skill, force, wit and intelligence. He was cold, almost heartless, dubbed the 'Icy Steel' during the battle, for his emotionless and ruthless fighting. He also had a sharp mind, pristine composure and despite his initial stony-hearted character, was actually incredibly loyal to his post and his cause. He was dead serious about it and it was no surprise why he'd risen so high. He definitely deserved his post. Thalos admired his dedication...but this elf was much more dangerous than he seemed.

He shook his head. Analyzing could be done later.

"That is unfortunate," Thalos replied to one of the generals who had stated that, sipping some more tea and then looking around the circle considerably. Then, he gently put his cup down and settled down into business. "The issue now is who we are to replace him with-"

"That is cruel, my lord. Are we at least not going to mourn him?" interrupted one of the generals, looking around with confused jade eyes. "Was his live really a simple nuissance, that we will not speak of it so soon after his passing?"

"General Faegon, as much as I do not want to admit it, the boy is right," snapped Commander Maegorodon, his voice immediately putting them all to silence. He was intimidating that way. Thalos secretly huffed in indignance. He was young, especially compared to all these thoroughly seasoned warriors (who all had the age to be his father), but he wasn't exactly a babe either. He hated being underestimated by others just because of his youth or class. He had skill and a personality took, if people hadn't noticed yet. "We don't have time for that right now. There are more pressing matters."

Commander Círran gulped down some mead, wiped off some of it with his sleeve and then looked at them, pointing at each of them with his bottle as he spoke with his trademark dimpled grin. "What he means to say, is that we might have to put that aside temporarily. We will surely honor Rían's noble sacrifice, but first we need to handle our major problems, so we can ensure Rían's passing with proper peace. We will definitely add him to the funeral pyre that is to be lit in a few days and offer some of our prayers."

This made the two generals present feel a bit better. Apparently, they had been close to Commander Rían. Thalos had liked him too, but he knew he shouldn't get too attached to the people here. When a warrior got too attached to people, it never brought you good news...and this was proved to them everyday.

"Yes, so we need to find a replacement for him, and quickly," stated Thalos, getting back to the real point. He hated hassle and he was eager for another reason to renew his strength and go back into battle. "He was leading the recovery operation and had already unlocked three of our past captured territories. We cannot afford to lose them, much less be weakened by his death. Someone has to lead the operation once more and continue his legacy."

"The problem, my lord, is that everyone is busy already. And those who aren't, won't live to stand a day," said the general next to General Faegon. "They're exhausted, they're starving, they're thirsty - they're half-dead already, to say. They can't stand on their own feet to fight any longer. We need them to recover, lest we send them to their deaths. And then, the others have already been deployed in other operations, yet to return to us."

"When does the next patrol return, then?"

"Not until next week, my lord."

Thalos let out some colorful words under his breath and sighed, sipping some more of his tea. Normally, this would sooth some of his worries, but it didn't seem to be working. While he drunk, the others chattered. Commander Maegorodron was observing them critically while Commander Rían tried persuading the two generals to split some of the current patrols to get more spare elves to create another patrol to defend Rían's regained territories.

"I...I believe this is bold of me," stated Thalos, looking up at them slowly. "But could I lead the party?"

"You are already in charge of an area, Thalos," said Commander Círran looking at him carefully, with a gentle voice. "Are you sure you can accomplish this operation?"

"I understand it will be difficult, but I am willing to double my burden. My lieutenant can handle my current area, since all we need to do is defend. However, I will try and persuade some of my men to go out and try to help me with Rían's offense," said Thalos. "Please, my lords. If you would but give me a few hours, I can scout fifteen elves."

"You are thinking too defensively, boy," snapped Commander Maegorodron. "What we need is offense. With just fifteen elves, you will die. And you say you can scout them in mere hours...how? Everyone is secretly praying to not be thrown into the battlefield out there. And the most some of these soldiers have rested is two days. How will you recruit them, then? Will you just hold a flag and shout for them to volunteer, as if you were selling vegetables in a market?"

Thalos secretly balled his fists together in frustration. Was Maegorodron against him, or what? Was it some sort of secret, yet not-so secret hatred? Why did he oppose him so? Thalos knew he hadn't done any wrong to the older, dark-haired commander.

"No sir. But I will persuade them. That I promise."

O-O-O

"My lord, go home!"

"NO!"

"Please my lord, you are unwell-"

"I AM NOT! I am fine, you are exaggerating-"

"No we're not, my lord. The white of your eyes is turning red. Fatigue is deeply etched on your features. Your skin is pale and cold with a slight fever. You are dizzy when you walk. That is not 'fine.' In fact, it's not the least normal at all! You need rest, my lord. You cannot go on fighting-"

"I can and I will!"

Outside the boisterous healing tent, which had five healers, two generals and a certain young commander, two battle-clad figures sat on wooden wine barrels, which would be used in tonight's dinner as a reward for all the soldiers' hard work. Commander Círran was gleefully craddling a glass of wine on his lap and Commander Maegorodron was drinking quickly from his own cup. He did not look as eager as Círran, but he clearly enjoyed the rare treat of alcohol. However, only Círran, who had been his friend since novice training, could tell his emotions.

"Stubborn little fool - what is he thinking? Thrashing and arguing madly all around," snorted Commander Maegorodron, shaking his head disapprovingly. "He's only causing more trouble for the healers. Besides, if he's injured, he's injured. He asked for it anyways, laying siege at three major orc camps and burning two spider nests in four consecutive days. He's young, but even the youth aren't tireless." He drank a bit more from his cup.

"Well, he succeeded. Give him that at least, my friend!" smirked Círran. "C'mon, don't be so cold. And besides, when they brought him over, he didn't even wince! He looked half-dead on his feet, his face gaunt and devoid of warmth, limping on a swollen ankle, the skin on his hsoulder raw and burning, with bloody bandages surrounding his torso."

"We'll give him that," sighed Maegorodron. "He is brighter than some of the other commanders that serve along us. And he has surprising endurance, as expected of a hearty lad of good health. He deserves his title already, but he is still reckless. Not every siege he leads is going to be successful. And this victory didn't come free either. The amount of elves in the healing wing has doubled."

"Everyone is injured during patrols, so do not tell me you are surprised by this. You have to admire his devotion as well. Thalos was quite eager to lead this, even though he already knew the troubles were lying out there," shrugged Commander Círran cheerfully, grinning at his friend. Then after a swig from his cup, he began poking Commander Maegorodron on the shoulder. "Oh c'mon, don't tell me you are not reminded of a certain youth who did the same things before, way before he even thought of settling down and creating a family."

"Stop poking me."

"Sorry," grinned Círran apologetically as he watch his friend's face darken. However, Círran's smile only widened. "But still, don't tell me you don't remember. We were novices together too, you know." Then he groaned, rubbing the side of his head. "You know, I still remember how you always woke me up an hour before the rooster, just because you wanted a sparring partner. I always fell asleep during classes because of you!"

"I was young and foolish. I was and am not eager, I am only devoted," humphed Maegorodron, crossing his arms against his chest. "Success can only come with hard work, so I am willing to make any sacrifice for it. My cause is the highest."

"Well, you made that pretty clear already. You did miss Morin's birth and part of his childhood just because you were off in that year-long campaign of yours to colonize a previous orc-infested plot of land," stated Círran, looking up at his friend accusingly, crossing his arms as well. "That must have been huge."

"It was a sacrifice that needed to be made. Besides, Morinlai will need to learn to serve and fight just as much as I have. As a future commander he will need to put his very being into his job. He will be fully devoted to the Elvenking and the Greenwood. He will not falter, and if he does not sail, I expect him to die in the battlefield. Morinlai will also makes sacrifices, but those sacrifices will be for the very cause of good. He must be selfless, because selfishness amongst the military makes corruption. And I will not tolerate corruption to dirty my line," growled Commander Maegorodron. "And when he grows to have my position or if possible, anything higher, he must depend on his hard work and determination. He is by far not as gifted as your son anyways, so he cannot depend on talent or mere instinct."

"My son is no more exceptional than yours, Maegorodron," stated Círran incredulously, his face suddenly turning stern and dark, frowning at his friend with disapproval. "I could not be prouder of mine, but how can you say my Kaitsu is much better than him? Your son is one of the most talented individuals I have known! His potential already surpasses many of my own seasoned men. Besides, if I wasn't correct, your son has nearly beat mine in all school subjects and they are equals when it comes to fighting. I see no flaw in how he is turning up."

"He is nearly perfect, but not always. And that will cost him his death in battle. Morinlai will need to do much more than be the first of his class to please me."

Círran was about to snap something back in defense of young Morinlai's defense, but they were both interrupted as another drunken cry was uttered from inside the healing tent. There was some noise too, including the clang of some pots and other utensils. There were some more screams, some shrieks, some shattered cries and then signs of an obvious, half-conscious struggle. And suddenly, a voice shouted:

"NO, I'm not leaving! I'm perfectly fine...please, let me FIGHT!"

"Valar almighty, he is still going at it?" grumbled Maegorodron in annoyance, gently putting his cup on the barrel where he was sitting and standing up, flexing his arms. He turned himself into the direction of the tent before he was interrupted by a question uttered by his friend.

"Are you knocking him out by force?" smirked Círran with amusement, temporarily forgetting their previous argument.

"Stubborn fools take stubborn measures," sighed Maegorodon with exasperation.

Then he went into the tent.

O-O-O

AN: Haha, I'm making you wait for the examination results until next chapter! For now, I decided to take a little rest from Legolas' novice life to see how things are doing out of the training camp. And it's also a teeny reward for making you all wait so much for my work. I am deeply sorry.

(By the way, this chapter starts just after Thalos greets Legolas off and ends around the beginning of Chapter 6.)