Jade
It has begun.
I can see the torches of the enemy. I can hear the twang of the archers' bowstrings, the shouts of the dying men, the deafening din of metal on metal. The moon, thankfully, is out, so if I look hard, I can see Daeron's golden-colored armor, spot him giving orders to the defenders on the walls. There's no sign of Erenion.
The attackers haven't seemed to have broken through the walls yet, which is a good thing. But we're not exempt from heavy casualties.
I am so scared; I can hardly breathe. My hands are shaking. It takes me half an hour to string my bow and ready an arrow. Alone in the dark with a full-scale battle raging beneath my feet is more than I can deal with. I'm on the verge of panic.
What if El can't convince the Edain? There's never been such an alliance before. What if the Edain don't come right away? What if they're held up? What if the walls don't hold until then? And then there's the biggest what if: Earendil and the West. If he doesn't return like Elrond predicts he will, then...well...it's over.
My knees threaten to give way at the thought.
I strain into the dark, trying to catch some sign of Elrond and the Edains' return.
Finally, Valthalion separates himself from the army, his crown with the Silmarillion shining like fallen stars. "Where is your king? Show yourself, Erenion!"
I wish I could answer him. Better yet, I wish for Elrond.
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