[Mattius]

Thelian stood upon the south wall looking south east and thinking upon how far away Sauron was, sat on his throne breeding his hideous orcs in the bowels of Mordor. He feared Sauron, above all he feared him but was prepared to risk his immortal life to defeat him, and that was the true courage of Thelian. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder amongst his thoughts of the dark enemy and his armies and spun around half preparing to fight. Dorlas saw the unfriendly look in the elf's eye and backed away a little.

"I am sorry Dorlas," he said truthfully, "I did not mean to startle you, I have just been thinking on the enemy." Dorlas nodded at him understandably.

"Believe me Thelian, you are not the only one who fears what we must do- but it must be done. If we do not have an ultimate victory then Sauron may one day rise again and it will be our future people who will suffer and I would rather die trying than see that happen."

"Indeed," Thelian replied, surprised that Dorlas was so deep and knowledable- he was afterall, a man. Perhaps he was wrong about the race of men. Thelain was untrustful of them but those of Numenorian blood were more akin to elves than any other men were. He looked at Dorlas, his young face already grim and ready for war, his black hair blowing in the southwardly wind. Dorlas caught Thelian searching his face and smiled.

"I have heard that the elves can find out more about a man by looking at his face," Dorlas said, "than they can with ten questions!"

"Perhaps it is true," Thelian replied, "but a look into the eyes of a man can be worth twenty at least!" Dorlas laughed again as the chilly southward wind rose again. "Come," he shivered, "let us find a fire dear Dorlas and warm ourselves up a bit." The two of them made their way back to the main encampment. "Tell me, do you have a family?"