[Durelin]

His mind raced along with his feet, which carried him across the earth with a haste that Calenvása had never known. He supposed this was true need that he was feeling, which he had not known before. It surprised him that he had not known such need before, and he would think of it further if the need at hand did not fill his mind as it did. But for now he was plagued by worries and decisions, all of which demanded to be considered immediately. His mind called for haste, as did his heart, which ached for a way through the darkness that surrounded it. Despair was waiting just outside the edges of it, waiting to fill his heart to the brim. Today, it was hard pressed to make its way in.

The Captain was feeling strong in an unexplainable way, though he had been strained both physically and mentally for too many days now. He was refreshed in heart, though his mind and body had received no rest. Calenvása had found a release himself from the heaviness that mere thoughts had been able to bring down upon him. He did not know how he had done so, but it seemed only to be a simple acceptance of everything that was. It was certainly something new for him to see beyond what his own life encompassed and see the world his life was a part of, but the words of Ambarturion, as well as the words that had emerged from his own mouth were more than just words formed by the mind to express something in the heart, they were formed by the heart to express what was in it.

Words said could form a being, and beyond just how others saw them. What anyone put on display as themselves, whatever mask or veil they wore, hid what was beneath. The soul reflects upon the face, and the face upon the soul. Whatever face was put in place to hide the soul beneath was giving face to that soul. A darkened veil or a black mask that would not let eyes or sunlight penetrate would shade a soul. Very rarely was a soul allowed to be seen. But it seemed that words could give a soul a face.

Targil ran at Calenvása’s side, a strange new mutual acceptance come between them, bringing them to an understanding. It was so strange because for each of them, the other had been seen as the least likely person for them to ever understand. Each had held on to doubts that kept them from seeing a brother, of the same kindred, of the same land, with the same goals in mind. They were fighting the same battle, on several fronts. Finally the two had learned to stand together on all of these fronts.

The two kept their eyes on Lómarandil behind them. Thorvel, who was a short ways in front of them, seemed to be doing the same, but with a different concern in mind. A glance passed quickly between Targil and his Captain, and then Calenvása called to Thorvel. The elf dropped back, and immediately began voicing his concerns about Lómarandil. They were hardly concerns for the wounded elf. Targil had always made his disapproval for anyone very clear, but Thorvel’s irritation caused by the young elf came as a surprise.

“It is clear that Lómarandil will prove of great trouble to us, Captain. As he always does.” He added the last phrase in a quiet murmur, seeming embarrassed to say it and yet certain that he would speak his mind. Calenvása sighed. This was a surprise he knew he should have seen before this. Targil was silent on the other side of him, and looked ahead of them, keeping his eyes away from Thorvel, who did not even attempt to keep his own gaze, full of irritation and a sort of disgust that came from his lack of understanding for what was in his companion’s mind and heart.

Calenvása was in no mood for argument or complaints, as it was time for decisions to be made. “Lómarandil is our comrade and our kinsman. We have fought beside him and will continue to do so.”

“He is a burden…”

This time Targil cut Thorvel off before Calenvása could answer. “A burden that we will carry.”

Thorvel’s eyes flashed to look at Targil with surprise, but quickly grew angry. Luckily he did not find words to express this anger before Calenvása could bring them to more important matters.

“Along with the burden of the safety of Lorien. And we all know that means reaching the forest as long before the enemy does as possible. There is reason for Ambarturion to despair as he did, at least at first glance…” he paused, wondering if Ambarturion had reasons that went deeper. “But there are advantages that we have seen: one being the sheer size of the army, which makes its movement more difficult. Another we saw the day in Mirkwood, when all our troubles began…or simply worsened. This was the trolls. There use has yet to be seen, but they are slow moving, and often can serve a purpose other than in battle. My thought is that they are not foolish enough to attempt to use trolls in such a battle. But whatever their purpose is, they are slow moving creatures.”

As he spoke, Calenvása began to realize with bitterness that he was bringing all of these thoughts together to relieve himself of his worries and doubts more so than to convince or comfort his comrades. He hesitated, but soon decided to continue to the end, as his pause brought only silence. Remembering who ran on either side of him, that was a surprise. “The final and perhaps the greatest disadvantage the enemy has is the crossing of the Anduin.” He smiled slightly as he glanced from one of his companions to the other. “They will learn of the Great River and its nature.”

For a brief moment, the three shared a smile. It was not a smile of amusement, or even truly of happiness. And though it lasted for such a short time, Thorvel coming to remember his current bitterness against all three of his fellow scouts, Targil remembering his disgust with Thorvel’s agitation, and Calenvása sighing at the both of them. Another sigh followed in the silence, this one in irritation with himself.