𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 ➵︎ [ 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘧 ]

30| balance

This chapter is dedicated to the amazing SillyCates2

You have no idea how happy it makes me to read your comments and receive your support, so this chapter is for you.

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Usually, the darkness of night was a comfort, a blanket of generous velvet that protected me, hiding away my vulnerabilities beneath the rich blackness. A time of tranquillity, of reflection.

But not tonight.

As sons were pulled out of the arms of their sobbing mothers, and men were dragged from their families without so much as a farewell, all that hung from my mind was a sense of immense dread. I wondered how many of them would not return. I wondered how many families would be left broken.

The armory was packed as men were handed their armor and weapon, some as simple as a spear and a vest. A blanket of anxiety had settled over the room, and despite the voices and chatter, everyone was on edge. There was a looming sensation that we were teetering on the edge of a knife.

And we were on the verge of falling.

I picked up a rusty sword, testing the feel of it in my hand. It was cumbersome and unbalanced, and yet it looked so fragile, as if one blow and it would fall apart into dust.

"The only way that someone could die from this is from a tetanus infection," I remarked, tossing it back into the pile with a clatter.

Aragorn sighed. "Unfortunately, that is all we have."

He looked around, scanning the crowd of men and boys.

"Farmers, farriers, stable boys." He shook his head, his eyes grave. "These are no soldiers."

"Most have seen too many winters." Gimli commented, watching as an old man walked by, a bloodied bandage still wrapped around his arm.

"Or too few." Legolas spoke up, his bow in his hands as his eyes met Aragorn's. He gestured at the men. "Look at them. They're frightened. I can see it in their eyes."

The conversations dropped immediately as everyone's attention was drawn to us. Legolas set his jaw, turning away.

"Boe a hyn. (and they should be)."

Something about his attitude just rubbed me the wrong way.

"Man cilu sevig ?" I fired back, narrowing my eyes. "Tôl auth, Legolas, ar boe ammen savo chûr an dagor ."

(What choice do we have? War is coming, Legolas, and we must be ready for battle)

Legolas's voice was sharp as he turned back around to face us, his eyes meeting mine.

"Neled herain... dan caer menig?" (Three hundred...against ten thousand?)

His tone was heavy with disbelief and incredulity.

Aragorn shot a quick glance at the confused men around us, before replying to Legolas.

"Si beriathar hyn ammaeg na ned Edoras." (They have a better chance defending themselves here than in Edoras.)

Around us, Gimli and the rest of the men around them listened in apprehension, though unable to understand the foreign language. But even with the language barrier, they could sense the rising tensions between us.

"Aragorn, Daeriel, nedin dagor hen ú-'erir ortheri." The elf prince's voice was grave and firm. "Natha daged dhaer!"

(Aragorn, Daeriel, they cannot win this fight. They are all going to die!)