“Cowards, all of them. Cowards, oath-breakers, spineless rabble. Let them run, if they will. They will find the dead to be a judge most harsh.”
“Yes, yes, Cardanith. I know.”
Baelor slowly turned another page. He cleared his throat and nested deeper into the bench. It would have been a perfect morning for reading, really, had it not been for the incessant, nearly unbearable whinging of Cardanith Galadnaith.
“A third of them sailed, Baelor. A third of them! Have they no honor? No respect for sworn oaths, for duty? This is...”
The scholar raised a hand with a heavy sigh to go along with it, and shut the leather-bound book with a loud and determined thud. “This is wholly expected, and reasonable. It has been a long war, Cardanith.”
“A long war? A long war!? So what, Baelor? They all knew what service entailed, what the oaths meant. But some would rather flee from the Dark than face it. As I have said, let them flee. We shall see who stands proud once all the deeds and tallies are counted.”
Another sigh from Baelor. He rises from the bench, the long, heavy cloak of crimson thread dragging along the rounded flagstones. “Sailing? A perfectly understandable act, Cardanith. Not all are like us. Not all are like you. Do you understand that? There is more to war, even if you refuse to see it.”
“Of course there is more to war.” The First Autarch turned and faced the rising sun. For a moment, his shadow trailed across the balcony, his form crowned in the soft hues of red and orange. “Of course there is. But it is earned, not chosen. And earn it they did not. They know the words.”
“What, duty unto death? Please, Cardanith, for once, show an ounce of reason or understanding. Not all of us wish to die by the sword.”
Cardanith paused. His voice heeded no sound, no words left his lips. Slowly, he shifted on his heel, the steel-wrought plate around his boots clicked as he moved. “Not all of us, old friend? Is that what it has come to, Baelor?”
“Elbereth...” Baelor’s head dipped, the slender fingers of the Noldo’s hand quickly pinching the root of his nose. “No, no, I am not sailing yet. But the fact of the matter is you can hardly be counted among the majority of the Eldar, Cardanith, even the blood that runs in your veins is same as mine. You are...”
He chose his words very carefully.
“You are different. A strange specimen, a bitter and wrathful creature. And one that is necessary to end the turmoil our kin has found itself in. So, please, spare some compassion or respect for those who are not cut of the same cloth as you.”
“Disregarding such notions is what made the Host what it was. There is little place in it for cowardice. A chain is only as strong as its weakest link.”
“And, in your eyes, the weakest links removed themselves. If that will cure your insufferable ranting, then I am beyond fortunate. But the fact of the matter is, you must change. Learn. Adapt. Do as you once did, in Gondolin. Our people are fading, yet there is still some fight left within us. Use it, no matter where it comes from, no matter if the flames in the hearts of other cannot compare to yours. To do anything less would be madness. Besides, you are not getting any younger, and it has been a long war.”
“I am not growing old, or slow.” Cardanith sneered, his tongue almost hissing behind gritted teeth.
“No, but the wear is beginning to show. That knee of yours, how is it? And do not like, I know you limp whenever the weather changes.” Baelor’s hands travelled before him, stretched outwards. “There are scars and marks on you that cannot be healed. So please, have some understanding. For others, and for yourself. What will you do when the war ends?”
“If I live to see it, you mean?”
“Cardanith...” The scholar’s voice now softened. His head tilted ever so slightly as his arms came to sit crossed at his chest. “You do plan to live through this war, no? Surely, you do not plan to be welcomed to Mandos by silver trumpets and crimson banners.”
The Autarch answered not. Yet, he gathered his cloak and shield, and began the long descent towards the falls of Imladris with no words of parting bidden.
“Cardanith!”
A turn.
“Go home, Cardanith. That is what we all do, eventually. We go home.”
A moment.
“I have no home, save for at the side of my men.”
