Letter to Darius Wife 1

Long was the soldier just sitting at his small desk and staring into the fire, mesmerised by the dance of flames and the swirling ambers that tried to escape the fireplace but always fell short and died on the warm stone. Only slowly and reluctantly did he open the small ink jar and awkwardly tried to fit the quill into his clumsy fingers. No, this was not right. His fingers were not clumsy. He could fasten or unfasten the straps that held his heavy scale armour in place within a heartbeat. And even though he preferred a heavy blade and use the strength of his muscles to his full advantage, he was trained well in fencing and his hands could swing a light sword with terrifying ease and swiftness. No, his fingers were not clumsy, but still unfamiliar with anything that was not a tool of war. Briefly he thought about considering the quill a weapon used to stab an enemy in surprise and hoped just making it equal to his swords would make it rest more easy in his grip... he always had this hope since the first time he learned his letters, and it was betrayed every single time. Reporting Soldier: Darius Tenasil To: Citizen Catherine Tenasil Preliminary Summary: reasons for form of Soldier’s journal, Report on the Knights of Gondor, reaction of locals on our presence, Women, Story for Dot Soldier’s Journal You must wonder why I write to you again after so long. Lord Paril has always advised me to write a soldier’s journal to leave behind for those who come after me. But we both know there would be no one to read it. I have chosen the life of a simple soldier, the best that can happen to me is that I live my life and die without being noticed, for the only reason someone would notice me is if I make a grave mistake. People will always only notice a soldier when he has failed and let the danger get close to them, when we do what has to be done to keep our kingdom safe, no one will ever see us as long as we succeed and keep all danger far away from our homes. So if there will never be anyone interested in my life, there is no need to leave a journal for him and I may as well write to you, for I need to write down the things I dare not say, or do not know how to express. Report on the Knights of Gondor Things have developed a lot better than expected. When I signed up for duty as a fresh recruit, the Knights were in a bad shape. They had had heavy losses, their remaining soldiers and officers could be counted quickly. Communication and organisation were broken down, and they were hardly able to fulfil their mission. Things have improved significantly. Hope and motivation has surged through the remaining officers and a sense of unity could be re-established. Order has been restored. We also managed to fill the gaps in our ranks with fresh recruits, most of them from Gondor, but some of them are locals. They are good soldiers. Some have little experience about fighting as a unit and military protocol, but they have the right heart and quick wit to learn it and work on their shortcomings. There is not a single recruit I would not trust to watch my back. There are still things that need to be organised, still holes that need to be filled. We direly lack a dedicated quartermaster. Just today I found two of our new recruits walking about without a proper uniform. Just imagine! Not a dirty or damaged uniform, none! They just had not been issued one. But in general we are a well functioning force once again and could start to do again what any honourable soldier does: bring steel and death to our enemies. The locals Over the last weeks I had a lot more contact to the locals than I used to have. I suppose it’s because I was assigned recruitment duty and because the other soldiers gathered in the local tavern, the “Prancing Pony” from time to time. You know me, I have never been good at simple talk, relaxing or just enjoyment. But I fear isolating myself too much if I don’t join them, so I was forced to spend some time at this place just for the sake that they don’t consider me “odd” for not enjoying myself as anyone else does. During my recruitment duty and our tavern visits I found the locals to be reserved or even hostile to us. Some thugs tried to burgle me several times and even attacked my fellow soldiers with deadly intent. I have heard more insults these days that I have heard in my whole life in Gondor. I do not know why all these people hate Gondor so much, the Knights did nothing but try to help the locals and avoid any trouble. Not once have I seen one of us disrespect or even attack a local, and yet we seem to attract criminal scum, assassins, drunkards and troublemakers like moths are drawn to a flame. Honest folk seem to treat us civil enough, we never had a problem with a honourable man. But all this scum is nearly choking me. It is as if you were wading through the swamp and try to keep a clean uniform. The dirt is just wherever you turn and no matter how strong and disciplined you are, the dirt just seems to be drawn to your cleanness and embraces you. How the local authorities could let their towns turn into such dirt holes is beyond me, but it seems this is something I will have to learn to tolerate. I am just tired of constantly looking over my shoulder, constantly having one of these people follow me around and constantly be armed just because the city itself is as dangerous and hostile as travelling through orc-infested land. Women I thought long if I should report this or not, for it sure will make you angry at me. But you should know that today I first met our first female recruit. It was a strange feeling to serve with a woman, strange and awkward beyond your imagination. Lord Paril would laugh himself silly if he knew we accepted a woman in our ranks. But it’s the way up here in the north. You see a lot of women about fighting and adventuring. I know, you would rebuke me, but I still don’t know how to work with women. As it was my duty to equip her I crafted a lighter blade than usual for her, to compensate for her lack of brute strength. You always hated it when I treated women like anything less than equal or even mentioned their deficits. But I just found no words to explain the situation without pointing out her weakness. The only thing I hopefully did right was to separate her from the other soldiers when I handed her the equipment so the humiliation was at least not public. I think I will avoid her and any future women who join us. She seems able enough and has a proud and straight posture, good manners and a honourable soul. I like her and if she was a man I would most likely befriend her. But I do not wish for this hassle dealing with women and twisting my tongue not to say something wrong. I know you will see it as running away from a problem. But I am not good with these things, and my Mentor always told me “Only pick battles you can win” Story for Dot I know you disapprove, but I beg you, will you tell little Dot at least this one story? I know my violent tales of battle are not for a little girl’s ears, but can you begrudge a man who failed as father to have his little daughter be at least proud of him as a soldier? And it has always been like a ritual for me to tell her a story when I came home. Well, the story I want to tell today is about how Annuianor, Thurinothir and Papa Bear rescued a foolish Eglain and devastated a small goblin camp near Weathertop. It all started with Lieutenant Norandir, the head of our scouts. He is a good man, although he seems to dislike military protocol, he always asks me to address him by name rather than rank and to relax. But that is not too uncommon among scouts, you must know. Anyway, he had heard that the Eglain have some troubles with Goblins invading their territories so he tasked two of our new scouts to investigate. The Eglain claimed some people were missing and the scouts were tasked to find out if they were just taken hostage or dead. You know goblins and orcs, my little dot. They are vile creatures that even feed on human flesh. It was well possible they had captured the missing Eglain and eaten them! I think you are right, Cathy. Some of my stories are really not good for a small girl’s ears. Can you please just tell her that I love her and that the big papa bear still always carries the little baby bear with him that protected her for so long and kept her company? End of report With a heavy sigh the soldier let the quill drop out of his hand. He did not have the will left to put it down. For all his life he had done things orderly and neatly, surely life would forgive him this one carelessness. His reward were ink drops soaking deep into the paper at the bottom of the document, tainting the bright paper. Slowly he forced himself to get up and reread his letter for spelling mistakes. Satisfied he nodded and went over to the fireplace. Again he failed to muster the will to put down his finished report orderly. His hand just opened and he turned away to prepare for the night. As a battered and tired man went down into his old and worn bedroll, as the sky shone with a cloudless night and the moon announced its dominance over the tiny stars, a small piece of paper burned happily in a simple fireplace, a letter addressed to a person that could no longer be reached in the world of the living.