70| Smoke on Pelennor Fields

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I always feel the need to apologise, but I'm sorry updates are slow: I got a new job that requires a shit ton of prep work, and I also just came back from a long overdue holiday!

Also, this is yet another instance of me writing a chapter and then finding out it's twice as long as it should so...expect another chapter sooner than usual I guess.

This chapter is dedicated to PseudoAutorka! Cannot thank you enough for the votes, I'm glad you're enjoying so far! <3

────── ༻♛༺ ──────

Smoke was not always so negative within my mind.

Smoke used to be cozy. When the earth was covered in a white sheet of crisp, icy snow, knee-deep on the young elfling, and the moisture from her breath condensed until she could see her own breath, seeing the wispy tendrils of smoke wafting from the chimney tops was a comfort, knowing that she would be returning to a warm home and a comforting, hot meal.

Smoke used to be fun. Small blasts of vibrant red and purple smoke erupted across the soft blanket of spring grass beneath the vast array of stars above, laughter from young, entertained children filling the air as they danced around the feet of the grey-cloaked wizard. The eyes of two particular elflings widened in intrigue. Hand in hand, the boy and the girl marvelled at the spiralling patterns, the great shapes and creatures conjured by the old man, running their fingers through what seemed solid, only for the shape to disperse at their touch or the slightest gust of wind.

If only they could have foreseen what their friendship had turned into.

My jaw tightened as I stood on the deck facing the wind, letting the cold air run its fingers wildly through my hair. In the distance, I could make out great pillars of black, billowing smoke rising into the air, polluting the skies with its dark smog. That was Minas Tirith, and that was our ultimate destination.

I glanced down at the helmet in my hands and the horse insignia decorating the worn iron. Pursing my lips, I set it aside.

Smoke was no longer a symbol of homeliness or youthful joy. Gone were those days. Gone was the comfort, that childish joy behind those innocent doe eyes. Now, smoke was a signal of death and destruction, horror and suffering, gazed upon by someone just tired of living. But were the happy children in those memories also gone—shattered by my choices and the cruel selfishness of my father? Was their love and friendship all just a figment, just as fleeting as the smoke itself?

Was the Maeglor I cared for...gone?

Leaning against the railing, I closed my eyes, embracing the chill of the air and hearing the splashing sounds of the water below.

Behind me, I heard the padding of paws against the wooden floor. Opening my eyes, I turned to see Aldion approach my side, before, as usual, shoving his furry head into my side. When I did not respond, he shoved me harder.

Despite the grim reality that awaited us, a small smile broke across my face as I relented, sitting down cross legged on the floor beside him with a grin. Somehow, garnering a smile in the darkest of days seemed to be Aldion's specialty. And I had learnt never to ignore his affection.

Satisfied, the giant wolfhound gave my cheek a slobbery lick, his tail wagging enthusiastically behind him.

"Ugh..." I pushed him away playfully as I wiped my cheek with a chuckle, only for Aldion to immediately go for another. "I don't know why you insist on doing that."

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