Hey, everyone! I'm back again!
So, I've finally sorted out my headcanon for how elves age, which is going to change some things. So this is what I've got:
Development:
Elvish infancy is similar to human infancy in terms of time, and elvish babies develop at the same rate as a human infant.
Elves appear as toddlers from the ages 1-10, children from 10-35, preteens from 40-60, and teenagers from 60-90. Once an elf is 90, they are treated as a young adult, and given more responsibilities to prepare them for life after they come of age, or reach their majority, at 100. They are considered young adults from 100-150, adults from 150-200, middle aged from 200-300, and an elder from 300 onwards.
Character Ages
Alagos: 6
Brennil: 8
Callon and Gîlgorn: 9
Fernthîr: 18
Maewen and Faron: 92
Arafhind: 120
Alquawen, Beleg, and Culdôr: 124
Mornar, Seregmîr, and Mablung: 126
Ruscdîr and Dînaerlinn: 137
Asgarsîr, Eleithel, and Niphredil: 153
Daecrist and Thoronmîr: 160
Aearon: 226
Enjoy!
Alquawen waited silently beside Mornar, anxiously looking over at the gates.
It had been nearly ten hours since the events of that morning.
Fernthîr, as far as she knew, was stable, having been carefully treated by Aearon. Dînaerlinn wasn't much better after all that had happened that morn, which concerned her. Daecrist and Thoronmîr were still begrudgingly working together. Seregmîr had ridden to the nearest province to alert them of the danger, although Mablung, Culdôr, and Beleg had all been grumbling about how he'd probably only volunteered for the task so that: "He can remove himself from the situation like the coward he is". The children had been made to go into the main hall to hide, where they would be supervised by Eleithel, Maewen, and Aearon. Fernthîr had also been moved to the main hall, and Aearon had set up a makeshift infirmary there to take the wounded off the battlefield. The horses had been taken as far away from Pessmenel and the edain as possible, and turned loose.
Alquawen frowned a little as she looked up at her companion.
Mornar had been much quieter since all that had happened that morning, and had gotten even worse since the horses had been released, clearly worried about Tinnuhâl.
She subconsciously laced her fingers through his, nervously biting her lip.
"It'll be alright." he murmured quietly, gently holding her hand a little tighter.
"You really think so?" she asked, looking up at him sadly, unable to help wondering if it was the last time she'd see him like this, the sun filtering through the branches to dapple him with light.
"I really don't know." he huffed a small smile. "But if there's one thing you've taught me, it's to be a little bit more optimistic."
A hint of a smile crossed her face in response.
"You really think my idea will work? It was only a speculation after all!" Niphredil asked as she and Daecrist set up a strange contraption of sorts on the deck of the teahouse, which overlooked the courtyard.
"No, I really think it will!" Daecrist replied as he tied the rope holding several barrels to the deck tightly. "As long as the water is kept hot and as long as someone cuts the cord at the right time, this should drench the edain, and give us a bit of an edge… Are you sure you want to go through with being in the battle, Niph? You're all Gîl has left."
"I'm not sure at all, Dae." she murmured, her voice wavering like the tears that rested on her lower eyelashes, threatening to fall. The silver droplets had been there since she'd received the news of her beloved's death. "Amlug would've done this, though. Since he is no longer able to serve his nation, I must do what I can in his stead."
"Niph, your courage is practically bigger than the sky itself… don't be afraid."
Daecrist knelt on the platform built high in the tree, checking over his equipment. Beleg was in another tree, only a few yards away.
Archers of all abilities were on various platforms, scattered throughout Pessmenel randomly, so that no attackers could predict where the next arrow would come from.
He released a shuddery sigh as he warily looked below.
The sight of the earth so far below him was intimidating, but living in the trees meant that he had to get over his fear of heights, at least to some extent.
Regardless, he'd never fully be able to forget jumping for his life…
The rain pounded outside, although all was warm on the inside of the talan.
His father, Gaeredhel, was at the table, carefully sharpening his hunting knife. He had formerly been a soldier, but after taking an injury to his knee several years ago, he'd put aside that lifestyle and become a hunter. Some however, argued that he'd given up the life of a warrior for love, saying that his superiors had tried to dissuade him from wedding a Vanya.
Regardless of whatever the story was, he'd married her anyway.
His mother, Laurëaiwë, was in the kitchen, lovingly preparing their dinner, timing it so that Callonind would be home by the time supper was ready.
He smiled, his legs swinging as he sat at the table with his father.
His brother would be home soon, which made him incredibly excited, as he'd been on patrol for several weeks.
It was always hard when Callonind left, as they were incredibly close, despite the large age gap between them.
"Ada, do you think Cal will be home soon?" he asked, for about the third time that evening.
"Oh, give it a rest, Dae!" Gaeredhel chuckled, looking up from his work. "I already told you that Cal will be home soon enough!"
"But, Ada!" he playfully whined, a smile on his face.
"But, Daecrist!" his mother teased, placing a platter on the table when the ceiling suddenly seemed to explode.
Daecrist found himself flung across the room as burning wood rained down from above, electricity crackling through the air.
"ADA! NANA!" he screamed, confused and frightened as he looked around the flaming talan.
"DAECRIST!"
"ADA!"
His father rushed around the fires and picked him up, mere seconds before the fire spread to where he'd just been laying.
"Ada! Ada, what happened?!"
"I don't know! I think it was lightning!"
"Gaeredhel? GAEREDHEL!"
His mother was trapped beneath one of the wooden beams that had held up the roof, fire slowly creeping down the wood towards her.
They flew over, Gaeredhel putting his son down only for a second so he could free Laurëaiwë.
"ADAR! NANETH! DAECRIST!"
"CAL! Nana, Ada, Cal's here! CAL, WE'RE UP HERE!" he sobbed.
"Come on! We have to get out of here!" Gaeredhel yelled, grabbing Daecrist as he quickly led his family out of the burning dwelling, and onto the deck.
Flames licked the wood, although it was wet from the rain which blinded them.
Daecrist found himself crying from the smoke which stung his eyes, and the pain of the tree which he could feel in his heart, its screams echoing through his mind.
"Go!" the tree wailed, trying desperately not to scream again as the fire scorched its ancient bark. "Fly, children! Leave this place 'ere the storm claims you too!"
"I'M DOWN HERE!" Callonind shouted, choking on the smoke even from below. "THERE'S NO WAY DOWN! YOU'LL HAVE TO JUMP!"
He looked down, swallowing hard.
The earth seemed to be spinning.
His brother stood there, drenched from the rain, his light blonde hair tangled as the wind blew it all over, his green-tinged gray eyes desperate.
Before he knew what was going on, the flames spread again, separating him from his family.
The noise was deafening, his parents, brother, and the trees all screaming at him to jump, even though he felt like he couldn't. The earth below was moving in the tendrils of smoke, taunting him, letting him know with glee that there was nothing to catch him.
"Dae, just jump!" his brother reached out to him through their bond, allowing him to feel his emotions.
He hadn't let him feel him for years… not since he'd been captured.
He was terrified as well.
"I know you're afraid, but you must jump! I'll catch you!"
"Cal, I can't! The ground is spinning!"
"Dae, please… you must be brave. Please… I know you can… "
His brother's gentle pleading was all it took to make him steel himself, and walk to the edge.
He only hesitated for a moment before he leapt down from the deck.
The wind whistled past his ears, blowing his tears across his face.
His stomach felt like it was doing somersaults.
The sky was suddenly illuminated as another bolt of lightning struck, making his hair stand on end.
He hit his brother hard, the force from the explosion knocking them both over, sending them into the dark nothingness…
… Daecrist groaned, his ears ringing as he blinked, trying to look around him.
His brother was on top of him, his shoulder having slammed into Daecrist's face, giving him a bloody nose.
"Cal? Cal, you're squishing me!"
No response.
"Cal?"
He tried to push his brother off of him with a grunt, trying to use all the strength he had in his eight year old body. His hand slipped to Callonind's back, and he realized it was sticky with blood.
"Cal! Cal, you're hurt!" He pushed harder, trying desperately to free himself, tears rolling down his cheeks, unable to tear his mind away from the events that happened six years ago, when Callonind had been seriously wounded while patrolling the southern border. "Cal!"
He finally managed to free himself.
He stared, stunned as flaming wood fell from the destroyed talan, raining down about the sopping wet earth.
His parents were nowhere in sight.
He looked back towards his brother, who was still unconscious with a large gash on his head.
Despite how hard he tried to fight back the tears, he let them continue to fall as he held onto his brother, helplessly watching the flames grow…
… he sat by himself on a bench in the infirmary, waiting in stunned silence as the healers tended to his brother.
Aside from the bloody nose and the somehow minor concussion, he hadn't suffered any injuries.
Callonind's wounds were more severe, as he'd taken the brunt of the impact from the explosion, shielding his brother.
Their parents were gone.
"How's your nose?"
He looked up, startled, to see Aearon gently kneeling down in front of him to check on him.
"Aea, how's Cal?" he asked, his voice sounding incredibly strange since his nose was so stuffy.
Aearon and Callonind had been best friends since childhood.
Aearon wouldn't lie to him.
He'd been there when Callonind's troop had been captured, and had been heavily involved with Cal's healing process.
He hadn't lied to him then, he wouldn't lie to him now.
"He's alright. He regained consciousness a few minutes ago. The master-healer's taking care of his back right now." Aearon murmured quietly, his thoughts clearly going back to everything that had happened six years ago.
He'd given up being a field medic after that.
Another blanket was placed around his shoulders, to help with the shock, according to the healers.
They sat in awkward silence for a minute, before tears slowly started rolling down his cheeks again.
"Oh, Dae…" Aearon whispered, pulling him into a tight hug, crying gently as well. "Dae, I'm so, so sorry." …
… he crept into the silent room, unable to sleep, looking for his brother.
It was all too similar to what had happened six years ago, when he'd snuck into the infirmary two days after his brother's troop had been rescued. He'd clumsily knocked over a broom, frightening everyone.
They'd been so traumatized, they were convinced that he was an orc, coming to finish them while they slept.
They'd panicked, which scared him in turn, and the yelling and shouting didn't die down until he'd backed into Callonind, who'd immediately started yelling at his men to calm down.
After realizing that they'd been scared of an elfling, weak laughter had filled the air.
They'd let him stay the night, even after the fright he'd caused.
Now, however, the healing ward was occupied solely by Callonind, crying as softly as a whisper.
He was stunned.
He'd never seen his brother cry.
Not even after being tortured by orcs.
He rushed over, carefully climbing up into the cot beside his brother.
"Cal?" he murmured, lightly placing a hand on his shoulder, noticing that his brother was lightly bleeding through the bandages wrapped around his torso, which still bore the scars of his torment, fading, but still there as a reminder. "Cal, are you okay?"
He rolled over, facing his little brother, eyes red with tears, droplets still clinging to his lashes, yet still bravely trying to smile a little.
"Aye, I'm alright as I can be. What about you?" he asked, reaching up to wipe the tears off his cheek.
His hands were rough and calloused, like their father's yet held their mother's tender kindness.
It was enough to make Daecrist start crying even harder.
He was pulled into a tight embrace, cradled against Callonind's chest.
He only faintly heard Callonind gently murmuring that things would be alright, over, and over, and over, until his voice eventually cracked with tears.
"What will we do now?" he asked. "It's just the two of us now. We have no other family."
Callonind stiffened slightly.
Part of the reason they had no family was because he was unmarried, since he was unable to have children after his experience with the orcs.
Daecrist didn't understand why, but the whole village was aware, and talked in whispered rumors.
Cal simply pretended that he couldn't hear them.
It was all he could do.
"We'll just go on, taking each day as it comes." Callonind murmured softly, gently caressing his brother's hair, before Daecrist could apologize for speaking without thinking first.
"Cal, I'm sorry…"
"Don't be. You didn't do anything. We'll be alright. Just stay brave."
Asgarsîr gave a growled huff of frustration as he struggled with his crossbow, trying to oil the trigger. He looked over his shoulder at Dînaerlinn.
She too was preparing herself for battle, sharpening the tips of her bolts, ensuring that they would deal as much damage as possible.
She'd been much darker since that morning.
Despite the pity he felt for her, he couldn't help but be slightly angry that she'd never told him about Fernthîr.
He understood the need for secrecy well enough, but the fact that she didn't even trust him enough not to say anything?
After all he'd done for her?
"It would seem, Dînaerlinn, that I really don't know you as well as I thought I did…"
He continued to watch her in a mesmerized sort of trance, thinking about when he'd taught her how to shoot for the first time, intent on giving her as many ways to defend herself as possible, lest she fall into unfriendly hands again.
He walked through the muddied snow, which was slowly melting in the fickle March air.
It would be Dînaerlinn's begetting day soon, he realized, in about a week or so.
He eventually reached her talan, and darted up the damaged staircase, quickly yet carefully.
He knocked on the door, and opened it upon hearing the muffled 'come in', followed by lighthearted giggles.
He smiled at the scene.
Dînaerlinn was seated at the table, a warm bowl of milk by her arm, and cloth in her hand, which Chatter was feeding from with the utmost pleasure.
"Well, you're certainly hungry this morning! Hold on, you little devil, I'm getting you some more right now!" She laughed as she soaked the cloth in the bowl before Chatter latched on again, greedily drinking up the milk.
Asgarsîr chuckled at the tiny rodent, gaining Dînaerlinn's attention.
"Mae-govnannen, Asgar!" She greeted with a smile, a look of confusion crossing her face as she noticed that he carried a second crossbow with him. He smiled. Since her return a month prior, Dînaerlinn had lost some of her fear, at least around him and Aearon.
"Hello, Linn. Do you have any plans today?"
"Other than tidying up a little and baking, no. Why do you ask?"
"I just wanted to show you something, that's all."
"You can show me when I'm done feeding Chatter. It won't take long, she's drinking this like a dwarf drinks ale!"
He laughed.
"Aye, she's growing quickly, isn't she? By any chance were you planning on baking an apple pie?" He asked, noticing the basket of apples on the counter with a peeling knife.
"Two, actually… they're for you and Aearon as a thank you."
His eyes softened.
"Aw, Linn, you don't have to do that." he murmured, lightly tucking some loose hair behind her ear, pleasantly surprised when she didn't flinch.
"Maybe so, but I want to. What did you want to show me?"
"Follow me. Do you need any help getting down the stairs?"
"I'll be alright. It's getting up that sometimes gives me trouble."
"How's the little one?" he asked as they walked down the stairs together, Dînaerlinn pulling a shawl over her small shoulders.
"Kicking like you wouldn't believe. She seems intent on making sure I never have a peaceful moment again!"
He laughed.
"She? How do you know it's a girl?"
"I don't know… it's just a feeling."
They approached the targets he'd set up in the woods, and he shrugged off the spare crossbow from his shoulder.
"Here. This is my old training bow. I adjusted the size as much as I could, but I'm afraid it's still rather big." he murmured, passing her the crossbow, which was rather large for her indeed, almost comically so.
Had he not been so serious about teaching her how to shoot, he might've laughed at the sight of the tiny elleth with the massive crossbow.
Maybe.
"Asgar, 'rather big' might be a bit of an understatement." Dînaerlinn huffed, grappling with the weapon. "I think the recoil would probably knock me over."
"Aye. Perhaps dual crossbows would be a better fit for you in the future since they're smaller."
"... Do you really think they'll come after me?" she whispered softly. "The edain? That's why you're teaching me, isn't it?"
He swallowed hard, pained by the fear in her eyes, the anxiety seemingly radiating from her.
He gently took the bow from her, setting it on the ground.
"I don't know. I just want to make sure that you can protect yourself in case I can't."
She nodded shakily, and caught him off guard with a hug before he could apologize for upsetting her.
He hugged her back after a moment of hesitation, knowing that he'd protect her to the end, even though he was terrified of what could happen if he failed.
Ruscdîr flew through the woods, ducking to dodge the occasional low hanging branch. His stallion was breathing heavily, reminding him that he'd have to slow down soon.
He'd been riding since yesterday morning.
Ever since hearing that Melian's girdle was down, a foreboding feeling had been plaguing him.
Perhaps it was just because everything that had happened had been getting to him. He'd have to change his name once he got back to Pessmenel, now that he'd been disowned, and tell Dînaerlinn and Arafhind what had happened.
However, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was needed back in Pessmenel.
He could only pray that everything was alright.
If he kept up the pace, he'd be home within a few hours.
"Saes goheno-nín." he apologized to the stallion, patting the horse's muscular, proudly arched neck. "We can't stop now, I've got a bad feeling about this…"
Aearon walked over to Fernthîr, carefully placing a hand on his forehead.
He was feverish, which was to be expected considering the wounds he'd suffered.
He shuddered.
It was all too familiar to what had happened when he was a field medic.
He sat down beside the young half-blood, gently wiping away the sweat with a warm, damp towel. The action of caring for people the way he did as a healer was a double edged sword. On one hand, it gave him a sense of fulfillment, knowing that he was helping others in a way that perhaps no one else could. On the other hand, however, it tended to bring him back to painful memories as well, of loss, of pain, of wounds he couldn't heal, no matter how hard he tried.
"It's ironic, really." He thought to himself with a bitter sort of smile. "I became the master-healer of this province because I pushed myself to be able to heal as many physical wounds as possible to cope with my emotional wounds. I can heal others, but I can't heal myself."
His breath hitched for a brief second when Fernthîr's face morphed into Callonind's for a quick moment.
He sighed deeply, burying his face into his hands.
It had been happening more often, seeing Cal in his patients, yet he didn't have the courage to admit it to anyone.
He only ever mentioned any of his problems to his friend, when he walked over to the graveyard, and sat by his tombstone, quietly talking to him, even though he knew he couldn't hear him.
Daecrist did the same thing.
Even Thoronmîr, occasionally.
Callonind had touched far more lives than Aearon had realized until he'd seen people visiting the lonely corner of the graveyard where he was laid to rest.
"Then again, he was quite the character." he chuckled quietly as he shook his head. "He had all the ellith after him! That is… until…"
He tried to push the images out of his head, as he always had.
He did it by thinking of something happy, and he often found himself thinking of that one night of fear-fueled hysteria that soon turned into what had to be the most comforting night he'd ever known.
He sighed, trying to find a more comfortable position in the rocking chair, even though he had to stay awake and keep an eye on his comrades.
Comfort.
After not knowing comfort for three hellish nights, it was strange how much he appreciated comfort now.
"Perhaps it's because it felt like we were in the orc camp for a fortnight." he thought to himself with a shiver, running his hands through his golden hair, grimacing at the rough feeling of the plaster encasing his broken wrist against his skin.
After figuring out he was the medic, the orcs had done what they could to ensure that he couldn't help his comrades.
All he could do was try to hold and comfort them after they'd been tortured, drying their tears, whispering encouragement, telling them to be brave, insisting that help would come, as he cried himself, cursing his uselessness.
It was the first time he'd seen any of them cry, let alone heard any of them scream.
He looked over the packed room again, his eyes resting on his best friend.
Even though he'd known him for years, it was the first time he'd ever seen Callonind cry either.
Out of the two of them, Callonind had always been the strong one.
It was strange consoling him.
Usually, it was the other way around.
He leaned back in the chair, lightly dozing off.
They were all sound asleep. It was highly unlikely that any of them would need-
Thud!
Aearon sat bolt upright, panic building in his chest. Everyone else had woken up as well, and they were all already shouting and swearing in their fear before he even got out of the chair.
"IT'S AN ORC!"
"THEY FOLLOWED US BACK!"
"SOMEBODY GET IT!"
"HELP!"
"STOP ACTING LIKE A BUNCH OF PANSIES AND KILL THE DAMN THING!" The Sergeant, Ûrdam, screamed, grappling for his javelins, even though he knew better than any of them that he wouldn't be able to aim with only one eye, cursing various parts of Varda's anatomy all the while.
Something darted between Aearon's legs with a yelp, knocking him flat on his back as it made a beeline or the other side of the room, where it found itself trapped in Callonind's muscular arms.
"STOW IT! IT'S NOT AN ORC, YOU STUPID DUMBASSES! AEA, GET A LIGHT!" Callonind thundered, silencing his troop as Aearon rushed to light a lamp.
He gasped as light flooded the room, revealing the intruder.
A small elfling with dark blonde hair was clinging to Callonind for dear life, his gray eyes wide.
"Congratulations, you just scared the shit out of my little brother." Callonind laughed in relief, covering Daecrist's tiny ears with his large hands, his left covered in bandages, so that he didn't hear the foul language.
The men blushed in embarrassment at their mistake, smiling a little at their own foolishness as quiet apologies and laughter filled the air.
Even Ûrdam, as stoic as he was, grinned sheepishly as he placed the javelin back under the cot, apologizing to Daecrist.
"Sorry, mate, I didn't mean to scare you like that."
"What are you doing here, Dae? This is a restricted area, and it's well past your bedtime." Callonind sighed, scolding his brother gently.
"What… what does re… restrictered mean?" Daecrist asked clumsily, adding another syllable to the word, making everyone smile.
"It means you're not allowed to be here, Dae." he smiled gently, ruffling his brother's hair.
"But I missed you!" the elfling huffed, his innocent eyes brimming with tears. "I can't feel you either!"
"Hey, hey, calm down…" Callonind whispered, painstakingly pulling Daecrist into the cot with him, cradling him against his chest. "That's it… calm down…"
The men looked on in silence, exchanging sad, knowing, glances.
Most of them had siblings, and had all done the same thing: blocking the bonds they shared with their brothers and sisters to protect them from the pain.
It was always a hard thing to do.
With children as young as Daecrist, however, it was even harder.
Hence the reason Callonind had refused to block their bond until it was absolutely necessary.
The only reason the people in Pessmenel knew their troop was in trouble so early was because Daecrist had started hyperventilating when he could no longer feel his brother.
So, really, they had the elfling to thank for the quick rescue.
"I'm sorry, Dae, but I didn't want you to feel these hurts… once I've healed, you'll be able to feel me again, alright?"
"Okay. Why do you have a handkerchief around your head?" he asked, reaching up to touch the bandage that wrapped around his brother's head, sweeping down to over the left side of his face, a hole cut out for his eye.
It looked rather ridiculous, really.
"Oh, this? My ear's just a tad hurt, that's all. But look! Ûrdam and I can say we're twins now!"
Even Ûrdam, who had a bandage around his head, guarding the socket where his left eye had been, couldn't help laughing at the joke.
"Aye! So are Aearon and I, but with opposite hands!" one of the Privates on the other side of the room yelled, waving his broken left wrist in a thick plaster cast in the air, inciting more laughter.
"Alright, how about we all go back to sleep now?" Callonind chuckled tiredly. "It's past my bedtime too, you know!"
"I can't sleep though…" Daecrist complained, burying his face into his brother's chest.
"Don't worry, kid. I doubt any of us are going to fall asleep anytime soon either." Ûrdam sighed, leaning back in his cot.
"Color me crazy, but the way we all slept together those past three nights was actually sort of comforting, in my opinion at least. Maybe we'd find it easier to sleep if we all did that." the Lance-Corporal suggested.
"Easy for you to say! At least you can walk!" the Corporal grumbled with a snort from where he was laid up beside the Lance-Corporal, his leg in a wooden splint.
"There is a decent amount of room…" Ûrdam said thoughtfully as he looked over the space they were sharing. "We also don't have to sleep on the hard ground or take turns keeping watch."
"Can we?" one of the privates asked quietly.
Ûrdam responded by tossing his blanket and pillow to the floor with a smile.
The others quickly followed suit, tossing over pillows and blankets as they walked over to the pile, leaning on each other for support.
"Are you going to join us, Captain?" Ûrdam asked. "I know you can't move very much, but you're our leader."
"Please?" Daecrist asked, his tiny hands clinging to his brother's tunic, just as Callonind was about to tell Ûrdam that he could be the leader for the night.
He sighed, reaching behind him to grab his pillow, which he flung to the floor.
Daecrist cheered.
"Alright, I'm coming. Get off me, Dae, I can't exactly get up when you're on top of me!" the elfling scrambled down, rushing over to Ûrdam with a smile, as Aearon tried to help Callonind up.
His heart skipped a beat as Cal gave a small cry as he got to his feet, clinging to his friend tightly, his fist bunched in Aearon's shirt, his face hidden in his friend's shoulder as he furiously blinked back tears, swaying unsteadily on his feet.
"Cal, are you alright? Do you need anything?" Aearon whispered to Callonind, grateful that Ûrdam had distracted Daecrist in the moment, throwing cautious glances at the pair.
"I-I'm alright. I could use a painkiller though…" Callonind murmured, looking up at Aearon, still fighting back tears.
"I'll get you one as soon as I get you with the others."
"Thanks, Aea. For everything."
"Don't mention it." he replied, helping Callonind to the ground, where he was greeted by his excited sibling.
After retrieving the painkiller for his friend, Aearon watched in silence as the troop talked together quietly, falling asleep, one by one.
He stood up from where he'd been sitting on one of the cots, and started walking back to the rocking chair.
"Aea?"
He wheeled around, walking quickly back to his friend.
"Cal, what is it? Do you need another painkiller?" Aearon asked as he approached the sleeping group, smiling a little when he noticed Daecrist curled up against Callonind.
His friend simply reached up to him.
Aearon accepted his hand, having learned just what a powerful sort of medicine just holding someone's hand could be during their captivity.
Holding hands, however, was not Callonind's intention, and Aearon found himself pulled down to the floor.
"Cal, quit playing around. Are you alright?"
"Are you alright? You've been running around taking care of everyone else, but you haven't taken care of yourself."
"Cal, I'm fine."
"No you're not, Aea. What's wrong? You were trembling earlier when you helped me over."
"Just… just shaken, that's all."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"I-I just never thought I'd hear any of you scream like that. Just sitting there waiting, hearing everything… it… it was…" he didn't even realize he was crying until Callonind pulled him into a fierce hug, letting him cry on his shoulder.
"It's okay… you were trembling because I was crying, weren't you?"
"It's not your fault…"
"I know. It's not yours either, so stop blaming yourself. You couldn't do anything… How about we just rest now? We can face our demons in the morning."
"Sounds good to me."
"Aearon? Aearon, are you alright?"
He quickly brushed his tears away.
"Aye, I'm alright, Maewen. Are the children alright?"
"They're terrified, but Eleithel and I are doing our best to keep them calm. How's Fernthîr?"
"He'll pull through. Who's guarding the door?"
"Faron and another Cadet." she replied, clearly nervous for their safety.
"They'll be alright Mae. I don't think this will be an easy battle by any means, but I know that we have the strength to survive this. We've done it before, and we'll do it again." he murmured, pulling her into a reassuring hug.
She soon left to help Eleithel with the children, leaving him alone with Fernthîr.
He looked out the window, frowning as he watched the edain approaching up the road, illuminated by the fading sunset.
He hadn't looked at an enemy force since he'd been in the troop.
His heart was pounding the same way it did when he was a field medic before each battle, and he couldn't help but wish that Callonind was beside him, in all of his strength and firmness, to stare down the attackers, freezing them in their tracks, like he had in life.
He looked over towards the graveyard, looking for a sign.
Nothing.
"Cal did often say that no news is good news." Aearon reminded himself as he turned back to the edain, unable to help muttering what Callonind used to say before each and every mission.
"And so the fun begins…"
That's it for now, guys! Hope you enjoyed it! The next chapter will either be a long one, or split between two chapters. I'm going to spend some time adjusting the ages and years in previous chapters, but it'll probably take a while since AP classes are a pain in the neck.
See you next month!