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The sound of the army marching to the stronghold was a grumbling in distance baring closer with every breath. The thunk of armor became a tumbling thunder cracking and jolting the Southlanders within the walls as they scurried to pull together what they could. Battle cries and the sound of standards being blared from crude horns did not deafen but hummed like a persistent buzzing. We're coming. We're coming. We're coming. The warning stamped repetitively shoving the subconscious into a frenzy.
There was scarce time left. Less for practice. Still there were those who took up sticks to practice blows. Some raised elbows and envisioned releases. More than children had been reprimanded for trying a dry fire. They had few utilities of war and even fewer of a state to use them. Life was not easy in the Southlands. Few had the nourishment or strength left in their bones after their days grueling away in the lands to have the build or stamina of an army proper. Most capable, youthful, people had wandered away with merchants that occasionally were forced to pass through in hope of seeking glory or resources. Some to send home, some only as an excuse to flee this rough land where they carried a foul legacy to those within reach of the mountain's shadow.
Once Theo had played childhood games in the fields with Rowan enacting imaginary hunts. They would launch forward with slingshots armed with pebbles and discarded branches against foes of dark and terrifying pasts turned into cautionary tales for all children. Those times were now a mockery in the face of the monster that had turned out to be not so imaginary.
His mother had given up a place in the barracks for them. Makeshift tents sprawled across the commons. Here he stood at the doorway to one of the inner towers they had claimed for a makeshift supply and armory. He watched as people scrambled about or sat frozen in horror. All glanced frequently out into the night towards the sounds that edged closer. How safe was this legendary hold of Ostirith, crumbled with time and lack of maintenance, against such a force? How could the crippled, beggared, and starving hold against this might?
The barest of braziers was lit in the center of the room on not much more than tinder and pitch. The most steadfast materials were being conserved for the long night ahead. Arondir sat in silence restringing bows. He had already set as many able hands as he could fetching arrows. Their tips were crude as they were without enough with the knowledge of proper flintknapping.
His mother counted what salves and herbs she had been able to salvage or create these past few days. Some were by her own hands. Others were brought and tended by women of similar talents from the area that had come pouring into the fortress. On the far end of the table were tools that looked more suited for a butcher's slab. He saw the color of her face pale and tint whenever her eyes fell on them or her hand drew too close. She was a healer, not a surgeon. Yet Bronwyn knew that war and crisis seldom permitted a distinction. Sharp as it was she feared by the end of this siege it would be dulled and stained. Men would have their lives but no future livelihood.
A sudden crash tore Theo's gaze away from the preparations. His spirit nearly flung out of his body. Gooseflesh prickled. His skin itched and crawled back into place as he registered the man who stumbled to regain his balance. He had collided with a pile of makeshift shields for dispensary.
“Listen to them. I’ve not the rations to start mending them before we’ve begun.” The tempo and forced buoyancy of his mother’s voice proved her effort to rest her own jolted nerves. “Had I ten times the Valerian..”She absently handled a root. Possibly she was trying to avoid the thought of another. Mandrake along with the rarest plants from far places and startling toxicity such poppy, nightshade, and henbane were kept in jars that even as a toddler Theo was kept from like fire.
Realizing his reaction Theo’s stomach knotted with humiliation. His eyes fleeted to Arondir who had tensed with alertness. His mother seemed to resume her own work with hesitation as if she to were thawing. Theo felt a prick of self pity as the equally swift glance the elf gave him showed he had noticed. The teenager lowered his eyes to his feet feeling the flush rise up into his cheeks.
“There is no shame in fear.” The elf's words drew up a trickle of anger from Theo. No one, certainly not a bold adolescent, enjoyed having their flaws acknowledged.
“I thought you said I was brave.” His tone dripped with his abrasion.
“Bravery can only exist in the presence of fear.” Arondir sat the bow in his hands down against the wall and picked up another to examine. “Trepidation is an ally. Pay attention to what your senses, your instincts, are telling you. Let that alarm keep you sharp.” He discarded the current bow after salvaging the string spying the cracks in the limbs. More fuel for the night's fires.
“It's when people try to ignore those sensations, when they try to believe themselves better or worse immune, that they lead themselves into peril.” Arondir let his eyes squarely meet Theo's. The elven sentry didn't have the time to speak to each person forced to become a warrior in the coming days. Nor would the people rely on him after holding him and his brethren in such disdain for so long. But Theo..maybe, just maybe if he was gentle in his imploring... Theo was one he could get through to.
His special interest in the boy, and the wording, didn't do him favors at the moment. Theo crossed his arms. A scowl anchored on his face. Arondir wondered how he had misstepped so severely when he had seemed to gain the young man's trust with goodwill not the night before.
“People.” he scoffed. “Why are you all like that? Like you know so much more than us. I thought you watched us. You 'got to know us.” His tone had a mocking voice that caused his mother to softly chide him with his name.
“You don't have to be here, you know. You could have dropped your message off and been on your way back to whatever forest you came from. If we're so much trouble and all. You say we just run into things, well, you ran back here awfully fast. Funny how you were willing to play this Adar guy's game but you look down at my people for playing the same game.” There was the slightest wince at the corner of Arondir's eyes. Flashes of memories of his comrades' gruesome fates replayed fresh.
“It is true that we have sometimes given more credence to the experiences time gives us. We convince ourselves that patterns are eternal. We sometimes lack the optimism of your people. That, I've seen, allows for decisions in action that strategy can't attest to. My kind have to been swayed by their own ambitions and blindspots.” He abandoned his work to cross towards the doorway. Leaning on the other side, his posture was as casual as he could manage at this state of vigilance. “No, we are not as correct as we assume. Still there is merit to that what we've witnessed. Don't parents guide children to avoid the mistakes they themselves have made?”
“Oh now we're children!” Theo huffed.
“To some of my kind.”The admission took Theo aback. Humans did not take well to inclusive terminology. Arondir hardly expected them to know of the different groups of his own kind that were created from the sundering. Could they be expected to sort out the many factions of peoples? Unfortunately this did not help blanketed views on either side. It was hard sometimes to believe they were all creations of a root source meant for different destinies. “We are intended not just to watch but to protect all children of Iilúvatar. Some see you as children in that we have a shared history. Some take this as a responsibility to see you reach your potential rather than to manage you. Of course there are are inclined to the later. Most that do not leave your kind to their own devices.”
Theo avoided the elf's gaze. He sank down and pulled one leg up. His elbow rested on it, his face turned to the horizon. “Well I haven't seen it. I think all of you just want to keep us from messing up what you want. ”
“THEO.” Bronwyn raised her voice. The clank of her pestle on the weathered wooden slab of a table was enough to make them both look at her. “Have you forgotten who came to save you? Who stands with us now? What selfishness was there in that?”
I can think of one reason.Theo bit the words in the back of his throat. Yet, Arondir had been candid with him in the courtyard. He cleared his voice. He wasn’t exactly backing down though he was less than happy to be scolded like an ungrateful lad who forgot to thank a guest for coming.
Arondir kept his gaze steady on the young man. The words had not stabbed as the willful youth intended. “Theo. You have the mind and seen things beyond most of those of your same years. I would not speak to you as a youth.” Theo straightened back to his feet to meet the challenge.
“You and your mother survived the ambush of but one of those creatures out there. You have seen their feral ability and the ways their build makes them a predator for your kind. You barely survived. My own kindred were kept as cattle, indentured, and slaughtered when but a few of them amassed. Still–this is not the worst my kind have seen.”
“You see us as goalers. As oppressors. That may be true. Some of my unit have faded notions of their purpose. There are things forgotten when separated from the experiences of our kind. Have you not known the things said in Tirharad against the people of your mother’s home territory?”
The village had tolerated his mother’s presence. As to her craft, for the barest of knowledge of her origins, or the rumors they created themselves they kept the both mother and son on the edges. Theo thought back to Waldreg and the hypocrisy of his vehemence as he spoke of the dark things his mother had fled as alive. He hadn’t told Arondir of the entirety of the sword’s tale. Or that his blood had caused such a change in it.
He nodded a response when he saw it was being waited on.
“There are those of my kind who still remember days of legions much darker than what is nearly at our gates. A being with a power that is only now a dream to you withered the land of our origin. We became as much as refugees. We watched brother turn against brother and fear fracture us across this unknown land. There are those of us, at the most our fathers, who still remember a light of brilliance that has no true words to describe in any tongue being smothered. There are those of my kind that shed their mourning for that they’ve lost. They turn it into resentment against those that they see as potential agents of that force. Iit is terror closely witnessed that fuels it. We see much. Our longevity does not encourage us to absorb the teachings of life as quickly as your people must to survive and continue on.”
There was sorry and a rasp to Arondir’s voice. Elves did not speak of themselves, of their lore, lightly. Certainly not with the common human. Bronwyn’s face was drawn in pity. It was a look Theo knew well. Theo had seen it frequently these past few years when she longed to offer him the comfort she would to him as a boy knowing that his pubescent spur of independence would resent the tenderness. He was abashed.
“You …I don’t mean you. You’re different. Why can’t they see all of this? You said you weren’t there to see those things. So some of them must be around your age. If some of you care so much why do you always keep to yourselves? If we're just gnats in your life here and gone like that. Why us? What was it about us that makes you care?” Theo didn't like returning spite when the elf's eyes darted again into the center of the room where his mother stood. Never for long. Frequent enough that you’d have to be blind not to notice if you were looking. Too many did. When Arondir answered it was with as much sincerity and, Theo hated to admit, unadulterated honesty.
“Most might glimpse without their eyes lingering. Gnats may be small, but their bite is fierce. Each sting can leave a pockmark. Some scar over. Some are bittersweet. Some are embers that test our patience. Some scratch at our ability to judge a collective over individual acts. That's why some choose to ignore any sort of familiarity with other races. They do not see it as gaining perspective.It hinders their ability to be objective.”
“ I am beginning to understand how these resentments have accumulated. I confess my own actions done little to abate them. Engraved beliefs are hard to sand away.” Was Theo imagining the hint of the smile there? Was the elf acknowledging that he did not hold this back-step of anger as Theo's true mind? Did he mean the malcontent words he flew at Arondir?
As he mulled over these words the elf pushed his shoulder off the doorway and wandered back to his task of checking the weapons brought ot him for inspection. Time couldn’t be wasted away on philosophy. Theo observed the elf’s attention grazing above the items towards his mother. Bronwyn was studying her son with as much discreteness over her own work as the elf was her. Theo could not miss who was really being addressed when the elf resumed, presenting a new take on a conversation Theo suspected had been ongoing.
“There are some wounds that are worth taking. The one that cauterizes the skin to ebb the blood flow. The papercut from the old pages of a tome. The abrasion from hurrying too quickly down a hill as you race. Or the mark left by the press of a crude token that is against the skin for fortune.” He tried to move away from the metaphors of war given the lurking countdown that pressed in the back of all their minds. Arondir turned his entire head to the healer who had paused her work when he began to speak again.
Theo didn't think it was as simple as the elf playing coy. Theo had heard the rumors, more like the geers and curses, of course. He knew none of it was true. Well, almost none of it. Nothing the villagers presumed to happen physically had come to pass between his mother and the elf. The way Bronwyn acted around the other outcast as of late reassured Theo that wasn’t a presumption.
Theo heard the accusations that they had come to Tirharad not by chance. Some said the elf had ‘brought his whore and bastard along to spy on us’. Even Rowan had no shortage of prodding about Theo’s skin tone never being quite as pale as his mother’s even in the cold seasons. The insinuation had always made him furious. Bronwyn’s refusal to talk of his father to others or him, accompanied by a visible distanced pain, only charged his frustration. If Theo were honest with himself that too might transfer onto his resentment of their watchers.
These whisperings were broadly lies. He didn’t know a lot about elves, what human did, but he didn’t suspect they saw partners as dispensable as people did. Theo conceded that envy. If humans cared more his mother might not have had to raise him on her own.The thought of what truths did hold in their mummerings was terrible enough. But he had spent his time wrestling with this conflict observing Arondir himself to know that he took his task seriously. He accepted his charge of protecting the people around him too sincerely for any exchange to be playful right now.
Theo guessed Arondir was attempting to apologize to them both in his own way. For himself, and for the others that had been spent to regulate their lives. Though from the way his mother's knuckles tightened at the elf’s words gave him little clue to her own inner workings at his choice wording.
“These things are but small wounds to endure for the sake of a life most richly lived.” Arondir was muttering more than lecturing now. His voice was modest. This was a being trying to convince the two humans of the supplication of his own anguished flaw. The elf could not reconcile all the volatile emotions that living at the pace and intensity of human life with the hard facts of time’s passage. Theo had overheard this ache in the elf's voice before, though he wasn’t intended to.
It was the note of Arondir’s tone that drew his mother to finally address him directly.. It was only a few steps but Arondir had come just a little closer to her in the process. She hesitated. Bronwyn was firm, cold, as she held her own emotions in check by adopting a monotone. Theo had witness this closing off of herself too much. With villagers. When they had a spat. More and more in Arondir’s presence.
“The most superficial wound can be deceiving. The flesh can rot around a stitch and destroy below the surface. Old wounds can cripple a limb far before its time. Poison can seep into the smallest cut to slip through veins like a shade until they are long beyond repair. You say boldness masked as bravery can be a downfall. So can the well place prick of a tainted needle.”
“You can have your feet tread upon when dancing as well. Mother, you’ve tended more than one broken toe after the solstice. You can’t have a bonfire without a dance.” Theo's words drew attention to him. Both jolted as hard as when the crash happened outside. Neither had expected him to interrupt their exchange below the more obvious words. “What’s all of this worth if there aren’t things to celebrate too? That’s not life.” The two seemed absolutely struck. The embarrassment of trying to say something of use in this discussion of exchanged parables replaced Theo's more aggressive reaction of earlier.
Sounds of coughs, murmurs, the clank of weapons being sorted, and that ever persistent rumble of the creatures ascending filtered into the space left by abandoned words. Arondir was appraising Theo with no entirely comfortable scrutiny. His mother seemed to flush. What was the point he was trying to make? What side of this coded argument had he touched a point for?
“The healer here?” A woman looking as she hadn’t slept in days, likely she hadn’t, fumbled her way into the storeroom. The lines of her face were premature in comparison of the strength in her limbs. Her hands were similarly cracked and calloused Theo noticed as she clutched the entryway for support. “My stupid son’s gone and tangled himself up. Rope cut into the flesh and it’s twisted up. I’d say it’s an accident but he’s too much like his father. Pure coward that one.” It shocked Theo to hear someone speak of their own blood like that.
Bronwyn’s sigh betrayed her own exhaustion. “Well there’s still plenty of work one can do sitting.” She brushed her hands off on her apron before going to grab the satchel of common necessities she kept all stock. “I won’t have much for him. We’ve got to save what we can. I’ll see it doesn’t need to be reset. He won’t be the only one that will have to get used to the taste of a leather bit between their teeth before this is out.”
“Wait.” Arondir caught her arm as she passed. Whatever anger that had been bubbling between them receded. Now Theo’s mother simply looked worn down. She didn’t fight back as she might when the elf took the cloak from his own shoulders to wrap around her. She muttered something about bringing it back before his watch before working out of his hold. One hand was on the satchel. One fisted the cloth near her heart to keep it closed against the gusts that occasionally flickered the lights outside.
“Theo.” She stopped, taking his cheek in her hand. He did not pull away in protest. Seeing so much had made leaving the days of his youth behind a little less appealing. “Rest darling. If you can. They’ll need you at your best down in the keep.”
“The cellar’s more like it.” His posture stiffened. “With the children and old? I can fight!” He wasn’t that young.
Bronwyn bit into her lip. This time her look over her shoulder at Arondir could be nothing other than ‘I told you so’. “We’ll discuss it when I return. I don’t expect you to be idle. It’s not to shelter you, I promise. You’ve grown nearly to a man before my eyes in these days past. Every mother is somewhat blind to it.”
“Mother I—”
“It was my suggestion.” Arondir offered to redirect his protests. Theo felt himself boiling again. He muttered an affirmation, his eyes rolling. Bronwyn sighed, squeezed his arm. and went after the woman. The intruder was growing impatient yet curious at this bit of interaction. A little gossip was certainly a welcome distraction.
When the women were out of sight Arondir beckoned to Theo. He was set to collecting the discarded limbs and separating out the salvaged strings. “When you’ve a bit more length and strength in you, I’d set you to restringing. If you find you like the bow. I know many of your age find a blade more their calling. It’s best you learn both. Though most don’t put in the work to master even one. I don’t see that in you.”
“You seem to know a lot about what I should be doing lately.” Theo heard his mother’s voice in his head calling him out. He had to be better than this. Not because it was unfair, but the inability to quench these violent urges troubled him. It made Waldreg’s caution seem so much more like a promise than an option.
“Theo. Look out there again. Go on.” Arondir nudged with his head. “Tell me what you see. How many out there could hold their own in a fight. Not a brawl. A battle.”
He didn’t have to look. He mentally conjured the mothers and half starved children. Men were partially crippled with old field injuries with hands fit more to clipping scythes than a warrior’s blade. The dread washed over him again. What chance had they?
“Still there are those of you with promise.” Arondir spoke again when he saw his words really sunk in. “You are one of them. You are ahead of many, but I would not test your skills out there. Not yet.”
Arondir put both hands on the boy’s shoulders. “This is not something I would ask of a child. If we fail. If they make it into these walls–and it is a real chance– those who cannot fight will need someone to protect them. They will need to hold these creatures at bay until we can return to defend the tower or clear a path out for everyone. If we have survived that long. If I had another choice, I would not place this burden on you. I ask now, will you stand for your people?”
A lump formed in Theo’s throat. He felt cold again. The weight of the moment laid heavy. For all the lack of resolution between them, in the elf’s eyes he saw faith. Theo saw acknowledgement. He simply felt seen.
Theo nodded once. He received a twin in response. They continued to work in silence until it was suggested that he take his mother’s advice and try to rest.
There were two palates in the corner of the room. His mother didn’t like to leave their precious stores alone for long. Too many were of the fatalistic mind that there was no sense in saving for what was a doomed cause. Bronwyn was fast to remind them that if they were so quick to give up on their lives they wouldn’t have abandoned their homes in the first place.
He doubted much sleep would come. Theo had also seen what it was to have to function properly without it. Too many accidents came to his mother’s door because someone thought another toss or two in quiots and another cup would be just fine. So he sank down onto the pile of thin fabrics and tucked his arm under his head to his pillow. The elf worked quietly behind him. With his mind stirring and his eyes on the stones Theo mustered the resolution he had searched what felt an age for.
“I can always tell when she’s seen you, you know.” Theo didn’t speak loudly but he knew he was heard. “She comes back and she’s…well she’s not happy. She's not most days now. She had been at first. Until they started talking more and more about you two. Before that sometimes she would come in humming or smiling. Even when she had that look like she’s trying to solve everyone’s mysteries at once… she seemed content. I guess.”
“I liked that. I didn’t like you..” It was hard to speak the truth. “All of your kind. I mean everyone else did. Except for my mother. She was always the one saying we need to judge less and try to understand more. Even so… I liked that. I liked seeing her like that. At peace. So, Thank you..”
Arondir didn’t vocalize his acknowledgement. This was the elf Theo was used to. The one who spared words only when he had to.
“There are some nights after seeing you she cries. She doesn’t think I hear. She tries to be quiet, she tries to stop herself if I walk in. It’s when she tries to make excuses that I know she’s seen you that day too. She tells me if someone she’s treated has passed on. Those are the days I hated you.”
“I… I was not aware I had done anything to cause her pain.” The distress dripped in his voice. It was as close to panicking as Theo imagined he’d ever hear from an elf.
“It’s not her that’s in pain! Well, she is but that’s not her problem.” Theo rolled over and pushed himself up, frustration spilling out.
“She’s a healer. She lives to make people whole, to make people happy, even when she forgets about herself. I guess I don’t make it easier for her either. You are worse. She’s all caught up on you! Then she starts thinking about what they say, or about what I think of you me, and that makes her go all quiet. She starts biting at her nails when she her thoughts go back to you. I know her. That’s when the only thing she can think about is how you’ve lived who knows how long and that she’s going to die on you. When doesn’t matter. She’s going to be gone and you and your stupid high ideal elf ways will be all broken and shattered and alone.”
“She won’t let herself be happy because she can’t stand the thought of hurting you. So instead of doing something she wants for herself for once and giving the village something to actually talk about– really what would it matter? They all think she’s doing things no ‘decent’ woman would do with you any way which, I really don’t want to think about - she’s trying to be all ‘his life is longer so it matters more.’ I can’t take her like this!” Theo’s outburst hit the elf harder, strung more fiercely, than any whip that had thrashed across his skin. Theo inhaled and exhaled with a loud huff letting the words settle.
“If we live… “Theo voice was low now, calm. He was completely drained. “If we make it through this… I want you to leave. I want you to go find somewhere you’d rather be than this broken place. Try to forget her. Try to be happy, even. I’m sorry I’ve said so many… many things about you, your kind. She can’t go on like this. Please. Please go so she can have a chance to move on. Give her a chance to smile again.”
“I…” Arondir had become ashen. He was half broken at the earnest plea. “Her happiness is my greatest comfort.”
The elf set his jaw firmly after his turmoil cracked outwardly. “You are a good son. Wherever your father may be, he should be proud. Your mother has done so well by you. If one day I may be so blessed to raise someone of my blood to such devotion it would be the greatest achievement I could hope for.”
“Rest, Theo. I’ll watch outside. The door will dampen the noise.” he said as he fed the modest light as if it might bring the leaky tower a little more warmth for him.
Arondir paused as he went to the entrance and the door that had been left open more for the sparse moonlight more than ventilation. “You have my word. When I see that your people, that you and her are safe, I will leave. I will cause you no more misery.”
Before Theo could counter Arondir’s wording the door screamed shut and thudded in punctuation. Theo sank back down to stare at the top of the tower that disappearing into shadows. He had waited so long to confront the person who had tarnished his mother’s reputation simply by being drawn to her. So why did he feel like he had ruined the one who he was trying to protect as well as the one who actually did?
Theo knew sleep would not come this night.