Book 2: Where They Are Going [Legolas]

Chapter 10

The armory was filled with all of the abled bodied soldiers Rohan could afford, but it wasn't a pretty sight. Many weren't fighters and looked terrified as they were handed weapons by the soldiers standing around the only functioning blacksmith station. The sound of sharpening metal rang the loudest in the room as those called to arms examined their blades in awe at how much better they looked than the ones still waiting to be tended to. In some ways that gave them some hope as Linnéa leaned over the contraption with complete focus. Even when her comrade came up beside her, she did not glance away.

"Just like her mother," Gimli muttered with a small smirk.

"It's not my finest craft," the young woman stated, holding up the blade in hand to the light in order to inspect the edge, "but it will do."

Nodding towards the guard she handed it off to him to dispense to someone else. Legolas was honestly amazed. In a short amount of time the young woman managed to salvage and tailor an astonishing amount of weapons to an almost bearable condition. He watched as one man tested the edge with a thumb and accidentally drew blood without much pressure, causing his hand to jerk back quickly. He never thought it would be possible to equip them decently with time working against them, but that didn't not completely ease his increasing worry and doubt.

The Ranger looked through the piles of weapons that had not been touched yet, unsheathing one to examine the chipped edges and caked on dirt. Sliding it back into place he sighed heavily. Linnéa's efforts were admirable, but this wasn't the armory of Erebor. Not even close.

"Farmers, farriers, stable boys," Aragorn spoke glumly. Legolas and Gimli look at him with a similar expression. "These are no soldiers."

"Most have seen too many winters," Gimli stated. Many of the old men looked haggard and withered from age. And the struggles their land endured for the last year or so also affected them heavily. They were so frail in appearance one strike of the enemy could break them in two.

"Or too few," Legolas added.

Aragorn nodded in agreement. There were children in the room not old enough yet to be called young men. The weapons and equipment dwarfed them in size. Some smaller than Gimli in height and that greatly worried the Dwarf as he glanced about.

"Look at them," the prince said. "They're frightened. I can see it in their eyes."

The low murmur in the room grew silent at the statement. All stared at the two individuals, not knowing what to say. The Elf was right, they were terrified and unprepared.

"And they should be... three hundred against ten thousand," Legolas continued.

Aragorn glanced around uneasily. Words of discouragement would not help them now with their will to fight hanging by a thread. And though none could understand Elvish now was not the time to be squabbling amongst themselves.

"They have more hope of defending themselves here than at Edoras–" the Ranger tried to reason, but was cut off.

"Aragorn, they cannot win this fight. They are going to die."

Striding forward in anger they stood toe-to-toe in a heated manner. The man glared at one of his oldest friends.

"Then I shall die as one of them!" he shouted.

The tension in the air was thick as all watched. Linnéa even stopped what she was doing, barely catching sight of the stand off in the room. She heard every word being said from her position. It was hard not to be amongst the silence. The princess watched as their leader turned on his heel to stalk off out of the armory in anger and frustration. Legolas attempted to follow after, however Gimli reached out and clasped the prince's arm, halting his movement.