𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬

𝘙𝘦𝘧𝘭𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

Another day passed on horseback. In the evening, they decided to stop to let their steeds rest and give their own backs some relief. Everyone was silent, and no one seemed to dare speak first. Galadriel and Elrond had led the group during the last part of the afternoon, followed by Lasgalen, and finally Syrìa and Armond, who were carrying the body of the poor elf.

They tied the horses to the trees and lit a fire. The makeshift stretcher they had created to carry the elf's body was lifted and placed on a couple of rocks so that it wouldn't touch the ground. No one ate that evening, gathered around the campfire. Galadriel stood guard while Elrond was searching for some healing herbs to help treat Syrìa's arm, at least until they could reach the city.

At that moment, Syrìa and Lasgalen sat close by the fire, watching the flames flicker unevenly. Elrond and Galadriel had seen what those men had done to her, but the other two were likely only now realizing what she had endured, and they both looked at her with eyes filled with fear and compassion.

"I didn't think men were capable of such atrocities" Syrìa said softly, without taking her gaze off the flames. Lasgalen looked at her for a moment.

"Not all men are like that. Thankfully, most are not. My father once told me of meeting kind men, good-hearted souls who embrace the light. I can hardly believe they belong to the same race."

"Was it really as you said at the last meeting? Were they men of Sauron?" This time Syrìa looked at her, her face slightly fearful.

Lasgalen let out a long sigh, shaking her head slightly.

"I can't say for certain. None of them ever declared themselves as such. And yet, their way of acting and thinking is unmistakably recognizable. We know Sauron was not defeated, or at least those who are willing to see know it. He merely fled, and such evil does not disappear never to return. It will happen. Sooner or later, it will happen. Just that small pack of orcs who wiped out the camp where I was held captive should make one think." She paused briefly, while Syrìa turned her gaze back to the fire in front of her.

"For now, we can only speculate. But at least, they're all dead" she said, struggling to get the second sentence out. They were dead, yet the evil they had done persisted. In the lifeless body of the elf, in her scars.

Shortly after, Armond approached the two of them. Both looked at him until he knelt before Lasgalen. The red-haired elf was confused, but her expression only conveyed grief and the pain of knowing they had witnessed the horror that had existed for some elves.

"I wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I'm sorry for even thinking certain things. And I'm sure that when we return and I tell Numos what I've seen, he will sincerely apologize to you" he said, never taking his brown eyes off Lasgalen's green ones. Numos was likely the elf who had been expelled from the company by Gil Galad. His face was focused, his tone sincere, angry, and sad; not with her, but with what he had witnessed. Many elves probably didn't believe what Lasgalen had recounted, things considered too absurd, too surreal.

Lasgalen bowed her head in acknowledgment, accepting his apology.

"It would have been hard for anyone to believe that after all these years, such evil still exists in Middle-earth" she said, then lowered her gaze, her heart pounding heavily.

"I'm sorry you had to see it as well. I'm sorry we didn't arrive in time for her" she added, unable to look at the body of the young elf.

The two lowered their heads in turn.

"I suppose we should just be grateful that we eliminated this threat and that you are alive. You are proof that light, in one way or another, ultimately prevails" Syrìa said with a bitter smile, her almond-shaped eyes looking at her with sincere appreciation.