Taking a moment to herself, Lusseriel was perched on the city wall, her back against one wall, her backpack next to her, rabbit somewhere nearby, probably munching on something or other that’ll bring trouble, Lusseriel was quite sure.
She was quite angry still.
She opened her backpack and picked up her journal.
If nothing else, she needed to order her thoughts.
She scribbled the date on a corner, and in Quenya started to write:
“It’s been a while since I last wrote something.
A lot happened.
We, as in Andrahir, Ilthirian, Arcangar, Ardirien, Rolegard and I arrived in Minas Tirith.
The city is… Well, a city of men on the eve of war. Soldiers everywhere, preparations are still ongoing and so on.
Nothing surprising.
Inns are fully functional and supplied with beer. Nothing surprising there either.
And as usual we were pulled in to help the preparation, but, again, nothing surprising, just very aggravating.
Most notably and the source of my anger this time… We were charged to check on the provision in case of a siege on the city. Higher store was fine, but we noticed a discrepancy in the lower store of the city.
The guard there, Dirion, claimed it was rats.
Sure. A big fat rat who…
We reported that fact, rats, to whoever needed to know and went back to that rat guard because we had serious doubts about his story.
Truth be told, he didn’t need much pressure from us to tell the truth.
Turns out that his family couldn’t bear to leave the city, and so they hid in the house when the order to evacuate came.
And… They’re still there.
His wife of course, but I couldn’t care less about that poor example of a mother, and their children: a son, Cunir and a daughter Fionel.
Of course, being hidden and not supposed to be there, they aren’t counted for the rationing. So of course, the rat is stealing to feed them.
The rat begged us not to denounce him.
My companions wondered first whether we could confirm his story which, frankly is an irrelevant question.
Either he’s lying and he’s just a thief.
Or he’s not lying and put his family in danger.
The battle that’s coming won’t spare his children just because they’re children.
Endangering his family, innocent children, disobeying orders just because, and then stealing…
The rat has no place in the army, or guarding anything, and the children at least need to be hidden in the city somewhere safer before the attack comes.
Let’s be real. Once the battle begins, the orcs will have means to breach the walls. They always do. If only by using machines to throw stones over the walls, crashing rooftops and walls in the process or by breaking the city gates or climbing the walls.
We all know they can do all three.
The only way to ensure the family will be as safe as possible would be to denounce the rat and his wife to whoever needs to know.
Alas my companions disagreed, and we argued, unsurprisingly.
Some of us believe far too much that their words hold weight for others, and believe that the rat will just follow their suggestions.
It’d make me laugh if it didn’t endanger the lives of two children.
Their words hold weight with people who know them, yes, but not people who only see them as intruding foreigners, let’s be honest with ourselves here at least.
In any case, as I said, we argued.
Arcangar had the gall to accuse me of seeing men as nothing more than mayflies and of treating them as such.
It only proved how little he knows me. He’s so very wrong.
I actually prefer mayflies, they bring me less headaches.
No, men in general are more like… rodents. The kind that’s invasive, short lived, but leaving an incredible mess behind for others to deal with. (not rabbits, I’m thinking more like city rats.)
A few exceptions apart of course. Now if only Ardirien could put a leash on Arcangar…
Arcangar also dared to say I treated him as I would someone who never knew battles.
Well, no, but I do treat him as someone who never knew, or forgot at least, what it is to be locked in a half demolished house because a dragon threw a boulder into the wall and it just all came crashing down.
He never experienced what it is to see your masters and friends dying slowly around you, half crushed under the destroyed walls, knowing that no matter how much you scream there’s no way the people outside will hear you over the sound of battle, that you can’t get out because there’s no entrance anymore and you’re just a child and not strong enough…
And you don’t know enough to save anyone.
And you don’t even know enough to save YOURSELF.
And that in the unlikely case you manage to get out, it’ll be a tossup between being found and protected by allies or found by the enemy and...
Clearly he never experienced what it is to wait for hours, perhaps days in such a place, with the corpses of those you loved and knew since birth, until finally, finally people came to free you.
Or living for so long altered his brain so he forgot what it is to be a child and end up without protection when orcs come at you.
I’d wish for him to experience that, or to experience it again at least, if only it wouldn’t mean that most probably the rest of us would end up as collaterals.
I’d hate to curse myself alongside him by mistake after all.”
Lusseriel raised her head and glared at the guard walking nearby, making him, unconsciously or not, walk faster away from her.
Turning back to the book again, she kept writing:
“And to top that one off, as “reward” for keeping silent on the matter, master Rolegard asked the rat to secure some provision for us.
First of all, no thanks, I don’t want to be complicit to theft more so here and now, and second, next time master Rolegard is caught stealing, I’ll leave him in jail where he belongs.
Clearly master Rolegard doesn’t pay enough attention if he thinks that stealing is alright, more so food in such a precarious situation. So perhaps facing the logical consequences of his actions would make him learn.
And he dared claim at that: “If feeding your family is a crime then I come from a whole land of criminals”
I’m starting to believe that, and to believe a land fire would be the best thing to happen to his people if only to avoid us a swarm of locust that’ll ravage the lands sooner or later, if his people are all like him, so unable to think of others above food.”
Re reading her diary entry, Lusseriel frowned.
“Come to think of this, it was mainly Arcangar and I arguing there.
I almost wonder how Andrahir managed to stay standing between us during our… Discussion.”
Lusseriel sighed a bit, remembering the argument, clearly torn on the matter.
“I want to go above my companion’s head on that one. It’s a serious consideration.
But if I do that, I can kiss goodbye any trust we have the moment it becomes known. And it will be known, if only because it’s also a fact that they tried to help the rat.
So chances are that if I do that, not only the rat and his wife will face troubles, but also my companions.
And on that, Arcangar is right, the people wouldn’t accept it peacefully. I don’t believe they’d act against children, but against adults, more so foreign adults like us…
Is it worth it I wonder.
Perhaps I should just do what Arcangar suggested. Treat men as the mayflies they can be, and just act as if I didn’t know or care about the kids. My companions will do just that after all, and they’re the compassionate ones.
But someone is going to lose something he likes a bit too much for his daring.”
She closed her notebook , and put it back in her backpack, playing with her pen. The thing was well on its way to breaking anyway.
She stayed sitting there for a while, thinking… How could she go on to steal Arcangar’s pipe.
She glared at Mrs Hops when the apparently suicidal rabbit came along to try to munch on something that was sticking out of her backpack.
“You will end your life as stew if you keep that up.”
Lusseriel sighed. Her glares and threats were strangely more efficient against the local human population than against this rabbit
