Once again I sit to record my actions and once again I find myself embraced by a tangy mixture of fatigue and fulfillment. Much of these past seven days have witnessed my anguish at the hands of a vicious foe: my training pack. I had hoped that the soreness in my back and legs would subside after making the added weight a persistent fixture though such hope appears thoroughly futile. Not all is toil without reward, however; I count the rapid rate at which my finger is mending among my smaller blessings. As I've mentioned previously, new faces are part and parcel of life within the herth, though this day offered one with a message. A tall and ruddy-faced elf by the name of Teremonth arrived while Aearandir was briefing those gathered on duties and activities for the muster. From the way he was greeted by those around me, some of whom have become quite familiar, it leads me to the presumption that he was away from the Flower for some time. The falling petal reversing its path, so to speak. The information he bore was of minimal consequence as I see it: Curugirion has secured new and improved lodgings for the herth in the Thamas Lorn steading. What came next was significantly more interesting.
Hirgonui says we are to travel west over the coming days, departing from Lin Giliath and leaving the relics brought to rest with the steward here. We are, however, to travel through the orc stronghold at Nan Wathren while doing so.
Encountering the orcs we did whilst training in the recent past, I could not help but wonder what business so relatively large a party would have if not to either scout the elf-sanctuary or to serve as a buffer for some impending assault. Now, it seems, we are to blunt the arrow before it has chance to fly. Upon hearing Aearandir's words, I found myself feeling agitated, excited even. The anxiety that often accompanies the preparation for combat is familiar to me, but this was different. As a weight upon my soul, it sprinkled droplets of uncertainty before my feet and eyes. I will elaborate on this matter later, for the present, the conclusion of my training is of note.
As my companion Arnelloth is as yet not in proper form after an injury of late, another, Faelach, assisted in training at Aearandir's request. Today's lesson was to be on small unit tactics. I was shown by two combat-tested elves which techniques have enabled them to walk away from the rigors of battle: formations which treat several fighters as one entity, extending and retracting itself as needed, as well as a brief though intense course on field medicine coupled with the presentation of my own pouch of lifesaving supplies. Our small party took to the hills in order to practice these formations, during which I began to notice how much simpler it is to associate the Banner Commander's orders with my own internal voice. When he cries out "Dirnaith!", I will hear it in my own words and become the muscle that the mind of the unit wills to move.
Some ways out during this trek, we crossed paths with several roaming Wargs which were dispatched without hesitation. Against my better judgment, I am forced to ask the question: Wargs, as intelligent creatures, must possess some manner of free will. They live within complex social structures and are capable of using and understanding language. Such that these statements are true, would it be accurate to claim that their wickedness is a result of continued social reinforcement? Would that this is also true, would a Warg, if raised apart from such influences, still bear ill will towards the free peoples? It troubles me to see the havoc these creatures are wont to wreak, but I am intrigued by the notion that they might be capable of goodness and perhaps honor.
It was not until the conclusion of the day's training, seated beneath the willows of Lin Giliath, that I noticed how lovely a grove it is. The smell of fresh growth and the peaty scent of earth, the subtle symphony of colors that converge in this place, the sounds of gentle breezes and pleasant conversation between friends. Mayhap I am not fully aware of how this departure is affecting me, though my troubled heart stems from more than the thought of seeing Lin Giliath shrink behind me on the journey west. All this talk of battle has never much worried me, small scale combat has been a part of me for more years than many live their natural lives. What about fighting an army so terrifies me? This poultice pouch is a grim reminder that I am mortal. I made my concerns known to hirgonui, who offered advice and encouragement. He conjured up images of a mask the soldier wears into battle. He spoke of this mask as the hardening of our hearts to shield ourselves from the terror of war, and of how vital it is to remember that it is just that, a mask, and not our true self. Lest we should forget who we are and become the beasts that we have pledged to destroy. I have always found my best comrade-in-arms to be my true self, and perhaps that self is unprepared for the days to come. I worry that my inexperience and untested nerves may bring harm to my friends, though words that Aearandir has given me this day resonate within the caverns of my mind. "We all face our fear alone."
