Pain


The battlefield was monstrous, bodies strewn before him like trees blown down in a storm, littering the hills with blood. He knelt slowly, painfully, his hair matted and dirty, gripping the long staff in his hand, his heart nearly breaking at the sight of so many lost.

The elves had come to fight, to die, defending their own and their right to live. their foe's forces had overwhelmed them, destroying countless in their mad desire for power, for glory, for death and destruction. The orcs had swarmed over the hills, armed with black blades smote in the deepest fires of hell, lust and malicious glee gleaming in their eyes.

He had fought well, armed with bow first, until his arrows were gone, and then sword, defeating those who tried to come within his range easily, and then when he’d lost that to an orc and nearly lost his arm, he’d fought with dagger and belt knife, cleaving the wretched creature facing him from navel to throat.

But it was lost, the battle. He wept, his tears creasing blood-stained cheeks, fingers white as they gripped the staff he held, the banner snapping in the stiff wind borne of magick and pain. The sorcerer's forces continued to sweep over the hills, ending the lives of any who might live with a brutality that made him shudder to watch, yet he could not pull his eyes away, could not comprehend the loss.

A hand gripped his shoulder, tight, unrelenting, hauling him roughly to his feet. “Come, brother, we must flee.”

“We are lost,” he replied tonelessly. “All we have fought for is now gone.”

The elf beside him shook his head, his fair hair ruffling in the stiff breeze, his eyes haunted, his beauty marred by blood and gore. “We are still alive, there is yet a future.”

“To run, hunted by the wolves of death?” he scoffed hoarsely. “What life is that?”

“It is life,” the other thundered, dropping his weapons so that he could shake him angrily. “Will you allow them the final victory? Lay down and give up? What kind of elf are you!”

“A weary one,” he replied, but he shoved off the other’s hands and bent down to pick up the staff. “But alive, as you say. How many yet live?”

“We do not know. It will take some time to get word of those who survive. But know this, my brother, we will rise again and we will defeat this foe. My heart is set upon it, for what life is there with the dark lord ruling the fair vales of our home? Nay, we must fight, and fight well, underhanded if we must.”

He nodded, and bent down to pick up a sword, not his own - that was lost hours before, but another of elvish make, a sleek weapon that still held its razor sharp edge despite the blood staining the blade. He swung it in his hand, approving the weight. “I am weary, but I will go on, as you will. We will fight him again, and I will see him defeated.”

The hand on his shoulder comforted him. At least his brother was alive, if none more of the large band of friends, cousins, relatives he had known for eons. He shook his head in grief, allowing the tears to fall unchecked down his face. They were lost but their cause was not dead. Nay, it would never die until the elves breathed their last. He looked over the carnage, aware of the bodies not just of elves, but men as well.

The future lay in their hands, as much as it did with the elves. He gripped the sword tightly, wondering if men would understand the weight that now fell to their shoulders. Men would multiply over the years as they did, bearing sons to sons and sons to sons. Yet the elves would not; their numbers would grow thin, with losses to both grief and the West. Some would remain, however, tied to a land they could not leave as yet. He would find those brave souls; he would join them, knowing some day long in the future, he would find his respite, his reprieve from today’s grief.

Until then he must continue. He grasped his brother’s arm briefly, blue eyes staring intently into blue. “We will fight another day.”

His brother smiled faintly, and with a blow to his shoulder, nodded. “Another day!”

Both elves turned one last time to survey the bloodshed, and their hearts hardened in anger at the destruction. Indeed, there would be another day they just had to wait.