It was the day of the big attack on the Dourhand docks. Hawk woke early, but even still Xan was already gone, no doubt mustering their odd assortment of warriors and making last minute preparations. Dressing and putting on his light leather armour, simple and not exactly well-fitted, he gathered his weapons and rode to the meeting place. The cold wind stung his face and eyes and blew back his wild hair and Hawk relished in the last quiet moments he was likely to experience that day.
This was to be an important battle and many people from all walks of life had agreed to march upon Kheledul together: Elves, Rohirrim, nobles, warriors, assassins...and him, just a foolish Alley rat. No matter that he was only newly trained and not at all battle-tested--he'd fight as hard as the others, and whatever happened they had to win. Not least of all for Addiela's sake, but for all of Eriador. For Bree-town and the people of the Alley.
When he arrived the scene was one of grim preparation, with everyone focused on his or her tasks. Hawk slid from the saddle and found a quiet corner to stay out of the way, though he was prepared to offer assistance if anyone asked. He sat and set his hands to checking his weapons: a plain steel sword with a leather-wrapped hilt and a beautiful, extravagant Elvish dagger in a fitting sheath. His eyes lingered on the dagger.
It was a gift from Vandallan, who would be fighting with them today. Hawk recalled how honoured he'd been to receive such a fine gift, even if he adamantly believed he was unworthy of it, but Van had insisted, and the look in the Elf's eyes spoke keenly of his fear that one or both of them might fall this day, as well any of them might. His words about being 'kindred spirits' still weighed heavily on Hawk's mind.
A quiet touch to his shoulder startled him and Hawk looked up to see the strange Haradrim called Ahmrun, with dark skin and dark eyes, eyes which were looking down at him with some unreadable emotion. Did he doubt Hawk's right to be here? Think that this unproven youth would only slow them down? Before Hawk could muster defensive anger, the assassin simply sat next to him and wordlessly began showing Hawk how to correctly sharpen his blades. Wary at first, Hawk eventually relaxed as he followed the man's direction, and they worked in amiable silence. Hawk idly wondered if he could get the man to pierce his ears when this was all over, spying the brass hoops in Ahmrun's ears.
Because he wouldn't even consider the idea that he might die today, he decided. He'd made too many promises to come back in one piece. Hawk would look forward to getting earrings, and chatting with Finchley about her trip to the Shire, and finally setting out on the road to Rivendell, or traveling with Van.
They were going to win today.
