|
When they were together again, they started making their way towards the cottage. No one spoke. Silence seemed to have descended upon the world, and Edhener thought that he would never again hear any familiar sound. The only thing that was still in his ears was the wind blowing through the leaves, if indeed it was that, and not the trees whispering to each other of the company that had now entered their realm.
Edhener glanced behind him uneasily. He had not forgotten the thoughts that had entered his mind when he had stepped into the forest. Nor did he feel comfortable among the trees, and whenever a branch thouched him, he thought it a response to his desperate question, a response that was little to his liking.
Edhener shook his head anoyed, wanting to rid himself of such troubled thoughts, thoughts that, he felt, had no place in the minds of brave warriors. And that was what Edhener wanted to be. He was actually one, but he did not yet realise it. All he knew was that whenever battle was at hand, the rest of the troubles flew from his mind, leaving only a sense of wild exhilaration.
Battle would probably be at hand soon enough. He felt that. He had felt it since morning, even in the light of the pleasant sun, when all were so cheerful. What if he had looked at the sun for the last time? What if he would never see his parents again, never see her again? What if...? But did that matter? Not in the least. All that mattered was for him to do his job well,and to fight as bravely as posible. And he would. Aye, the Valar knew that he would.
Deep in thoughts as he was, Edhener bearly realised when they reached the cottage. And now here they were, in front of it, at the last stage of their journey. Mayonette was ordering them to crash in. And then, all the worries vanished. So what if things would turn bad for him? He did not care. A battle would soon be at hand, and he-the young son of the bravest and most reckless people of Middle-earth-would do deeds to make his anscestors proud. And even if he were to die, he knew his death would not be unpraised, unsung. No, he would not let it be like this. Clutching his sword in his hand, firmly, but also lovingly, as if he was not holding only a weapon, yet in the same time a dear friend, he went after the others, his eyes now shining, as bright stars on a twilight sky.
|