𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧𝐬 ➵︎ [ 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘢𝘴 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘯𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘧 ]

30| balance

"Then I shall die as one of them!" Aragorn shot back in the common tongue.

The room fell into silence as the men processed his words.

Noticing the sudden change in atmosphere, Aragorn sent a pointed look at the elf before walking away.

I shook my head, my eyes meeting Legolas', shooting him a glare before turning on my heel and walking after Aragorn. I felt Legolas' gaze on my back as I left, but I resisted the urge to look back.

Outside, the cold air hit my skin, providing a bit of a relief from the stifling air inside.

"Aragorn!" I called as I caught up to him, joining him in the dark outside. "Talk to me."

Aragorn gazed out at the gathering storm clouds above, before exhaling in frustration.

"The kingdom of Rohan may very well fall tonight." He leaned against the stone walls of the keep. "Legolas is right. A whole race of man may be eradicated tonight. What then?"

I breathed in the evening air. The faint light from the torches flickered, casting wavering shadows against the stone.

"If I am to be honest, I don't know either, and honestly, I can't bear to think of it." I replied frankly.

"But I do know that it can't all be dark. There is always light at the end of the tunnel.

"You have hope?"

"No." I replied simply. "Not for this battle at least. But I do believe that there is a balance. You can't have a world without darkness, but neither can you without light. One cannot exist without the other."

There was a distant rumble of thunder as Aragorn silently processed my words. I noticed one of Théoden's men approaching us.

"My Lord, the king requests your presence."

My brother turned to follow him.

"Aragorn." I called, stopping him. "You can't protect everyone. Do not add unnecessary weight to your shoulders."

Aragorn paused for a moment, before nodding and following after Théoden's guard.

I stood alone for a moment, facing the valley which would soon be swarming with Saruman's army. It was the last breath of silence before the inevitable storm.

As I went to find the others, I noticed a young boy struggling with his armor outside on the stone steps. He must have been no older than twelve years of age.

"Here, let me give you a hand," I offered. The boy nodded, placing his oversized sword down beside him.

"So, what is your name?" I asked as I helped fasten his armour together at the back.

"Léod," he replied, "what's yours?"

I sat down beside him with a warm smile.

"My name is Daeriel."

Léod picked up his sword, holding it up and examining it. He sighed, putting it back down with a clatter.

"I don't want to die tonight, Daeriel." His voice was small.

"I have heard the men speak. They do not think that we will survive the night."

My heart went out to this young boy, trapped on the brink of inescapable war. He should be with his family, not preparing for a grisly battle against thousands of blood-thirsty beasts.

Fate was cruel like that.

He was just a child, but here he was, forced to endure something that no child should have to endure. Sympathy tugged at my heartstrings.