To honour the fallen (October 3009) [Darelle]
Mar 7, 2019 13:31:35 GMT -5
Post by Dúnhere the Black on Mar 7, 2019 13:31:35 GMT -5
It has been ten years.
Ten years ago he wasn't the Black Captain, or even dreamed he could become a Captain for that matter. No. Dúnhere was just a recruit, not even a full-fledged soldier. Just a kid chasing purpose, an opportunity to claim a place in this world, to prove he was more than what he appeared to be, to prove he was a true eorlinga, and not some savage from Dunland, like his black mane and dark eyes suggested to most people from his country. It was hard, especially because he did live among the dunlending for a couple years, while he was still lost and seeking a place he could call home. That was probably the worst decision he had ever made, but one that helped him grow as a person, a decision that helped establish his character. Not everyone was ready to accept him among the ranks, but there were few who were, and those were paramount for his path as a soldier of Rohan.
One of them was Yrain.
The freckled soldier wasn't much older than he was, but he was a gentle presence and in a very short time the two became friends. The very first friend Dúnhere ever made. It was odd, he thought, to have someone you can trust, you can confide in. And as a soldier, that represents even more than a regular friendship. Yrain was someone who got his back, who could protect him in the face of the dangers they faced, a shield to count on, and a sharp blade to the rescue in dire times. But as quickly as this friendship came to flourish, it faded into oblivion, burnt by the flames of death and despair.
A man should be able to feel safe at home. Even Dúnhere felt safe whenever he would visit his family and spend the night there. He was kind like an outsider in his very own core family, but still, he could rest without seeking the grip of his sword. But Yrain was betrayed by the safe haven of his house. A candle, they said. Something as simple and apparently harmless was the tool used by fate to claim his life. He didn't perish like a warrior, in the field of battle, fighting for his people or his beliefs. No, fate wasn't so kind. He fell like an unattended child. A waste of potential. A waste of a good, kind heart.
His passing was a heavy blow on Dúnhere. He lost his best friend. He was more like a brother to him than his own blood. He was angry, he was frustrated, but time... Time is a powerful medicine. And although time does not make the wound disappear, it makes it into a scar and then you can somehow move on.
Still, the dead are not forgotten.
From Helm's Deep to Edoras is usually a two day ride if you are in small numbers, maybe three if you are in no hurry. But Faronis, Dúnhere's black stallion, made it in one. He left before the dawn and arrived an hour after the dusk. The beast was almost breathless, it did his best and its rider couldn't appreciate it more. "I'm sorry, boy. But I needed your best effort today..." he apologize as he dismounted the horse, tapping its neck a couple times before making his way to a grave. Yrain's grave.
There were fresh flowers there. It was good, he was remembered. A sad smile took shape on Dúnhere's lips as he threw a single Camellia atop his resting place; a symbol of love and affection. "It has been a while, brother. I hope my thoughts can reach you where you are." he sighed as his smile faded away. The Captain struck the bridge of his nose and his hand ran all the way down to his beard as water invaded his eyes, but he wouldn't go down without a fight and no tears were shed. Yet.
Tag: Darelle