Dear Diary 2
July 2nd 2009 12:43
Dear Diary,
They did not come to our camp by night; they came with the morning, but not too large a group-at most a hundred men. The hardest part of fighting them off was waking up enough to do it but we all managed. Fidolian soldiers have no strength or skill compared to that of the Elves; but it is not their fault nor that of their teachers. It is simply because we have so much longer to learn.
The girl has been sitting in the corner of my tent, shaking for quite some time now. I managed to give her water but she will not take food. She keeps muttering some phrase over and over. I think she is afraid; she is tired and scared of this war. Perhaps she does not understand that I will protect her from any enemy. She is but a child after all.
She seems to understand that I am her friend; but she does not trust my men. Nor do they trust her, so I suppose all is fair. I hope Shalorin hurries back. He is the only other man who I can trust with this girl, and he can earn her trust better than I have managed. I took her to see my horse; she is quite enchanted by the creature.
She sits there and brushes the horse, her eyes lit up with joy. The horse seems to like her as well; they have made good friends in the time since I brought the girl here. But my girl Moonlight has always been friendly. The friendliest horse in the entire camp. She is a good judge of character though; can identify traitors a mile away.
I am weary of this war. I hope they call us back to the border; there we can fight alongside many more men. Out here I am always worried that the next wave of Fidolian soldiers will come, more than a hundred men, and that they will decimate my forces. Back there we have so many more men fighting.
Not only that; but back there we don’t have to be so constantly on our guard. My group rests within the heart of the camps. We are the hardest ones to reach, the safest of the men at the border. We are the only ones who have crossed into Fidolian territory so far-at least the only ones to travel more than a day into it-and I do not like what we have seen.
I see that they are prepared for war. Most likely they had been preparing for it for quite some time; I see that the women and even some of the children are trained to wield weapons, swords and bows. I see that their priests and priestesses burn the sky and burn my men. Our forces are strong and our talents with the sword far better theirs but I fear the fire may be the death of us.
Back in the last war we had far more powerful magics; since the loss of the race of Summoners the magic has weakened. We Elves still hold quite a bit of power, enough to combat their fire mages, but I wonder if the humans have enough strength. I suppose we shall see.
We should have decimated them already. They should already be dead considering the circumstances; Fidolius should have fallen. But it has not fallen, nor does it show signs of falling, barely even weakened by our force. I wonder how they have the strength. They have been preparing for this war for quite some time. It is clear by the way they fight us. How the thirteen and fourteen year old girls and boys take up their swords and bows when we enter their villages.
He has been planning this for quite some time. I wonder if from the very beginning his intentions were to take Appollinia by force or willingly. But I do not know; I do not know what goes on in the minds of any of the Gods. If only I did, then I would understand. But as it is all I know is what we know as men: that they want our land, want the entire continent to themselves, want our people enslaved to their Gods. And that we will fight to our last breaths to keep it from them.
It is a wonder that the girl I found has no training to fight; she is only nine or ten though, I am not sure which. When he returns Shalorin will find out for me. And he will teach her at least to use a dagger, for her frame is too small for even a short sword as of yet. She seems to have a little of the magical talent, and Shalorin can teach her in that as well. I cannot because I cannot speak her language; my magic far surpasses Shalorin’s though.
I am so sick of the fighting. It has only been one year of what may be many and I am weary and tired; only two of my men have died so far but I know many more on both sides have been lost or wounded. Some have been crippled. I know for a fact my own blood brother will not recover; we have never been very close, being far separate in age, but it frustrates me.
Shalorin is my closest friend throughout all of this. We were introduced on the way to the battlefield. He had been designated one of my warriors; one of ten Drakor. We are an Elite Force, this is what we have been designed as. Right away me and Shalorin grew close. While I care for all of my men, Shalorin has become my second in command, my right hand man and my best friend.
His values are the same as mine; love, family, friends, these are the things we fight for. I fight for my sister and my brother who lost his leg two weeks ago in this gruesome war. I fight for my mother and father, too old to come to the border and fight though I know my father wanted to. It was only after I begged him not to that he stopped himself.
Shalorin fights for the woman he loves, the woman he will marry when he returns home. And I will see to it that he returns home alive, as unhurt as possible. The scars left by war will never leave us; the fact that we have killed men and women-though neither of us will kill children-and that the blood of innocent people has stained our hands will haunt us both, and all of my men, until we die. But I will make sure that Shalorin returns otherwise unharmed.
I look after my own. I will look after him and I will look after this girl that I have found. I will take care of my men. Together my group of warriors will fight until this war is over. And some of us will not survive, but as many as I can keep alive will stay alive. I only pray that I can do my duty to protect my people-both here and at home.
~Alaendril
They did not come to our camp by night; they came with the morning, but not too large a group-at most a hundred men. The hardest part of fighting them off was waking up enough to do it but we all managed. Fidolian soldiers have no strength or skill compared to that of the Elves; but it is not their fault nor that of their teachers. It is simply because we have so much longer to learn.
The girl has been sitting in the corner of my tent, shaking for quite some time now. I managed to give her water but she will not take food. She keeps muttering some phrase over and over. I think she is afraid; she is tired and scared of this war. Perhaps she does not understand that I will protect her from any enemy. She is but a child after all.
She seems to understand that I am her friend; but she does not trust my men. Nor do they trust her, so I suppose all is fair. I hope Shalorin hurries back. He is the only other man who I can trust with this girl, and he can earn her trust better than I have managed. I took her to see my horse; she is quite enchanted by the creature.
She sits there and brushes the horse, her eyes lit up with joy. The horse seems to like her as well; they have made good friends in the time since I brought the girl here. But my girl Moonlight has always been friendly. The friendliest horse in the entire camp. She is a good judge of character though; can identify traitors a mile away.
I am weary of this war. I hope they call us back to the border; there we can fight alongside many more men. Out here I am always worried that the next wave of Fidolian soldiers will come, more than a hundred men, and that they will decimate my forces. Back there we have so many more men fighting.
Not only that; but back there we don’t have to be so constantly on our guard. My group rests within the heart of the camps. We are the hardest ones to reach, the safest of the men at the border. We are the only ones who have crossed into Fidolian territory so far-at least the only ones to travel more than a day into it-and I do not like what we have seen.
I see that they are prepared for war. Most likely they had been preparing for it for quite some time; I see that the women and even some of the children are trained to wield weapons, swords and bows. I see that their priests and priestesses burn the sky and burn my men. Our forces are strong and our talents with the sword far better theirs but I fear the fire may be the death of us.
Back in the last war we had far more powerful magics; since the loss of the race of Summoners the magic has weakened. We Elves still hold quite a bit of power, enough to combat their fire mages, but I wonder if the humans have enough strength. I suppose we shall see.
We should have decimated them already. They should already be dead considering the circumstances; Fidolius should have fallen. But it has not fallen, nor does it show signs of falling, barely even weakened by our force. I wonder how they have the strength. They have been preparing for this war for quite some time. It is clear by the way they fight us. How the thirteen and fourteen year old girls and boys take up their swords and bows when we enter their villages.
He has been planning this for quite some time. I wonder if from the very beginning his intentions were to take Appollinia by force or willingly. But I do not know; I do not know what goes on in the minds of any of the Gods. If only I did, then I would understand. But as it is all I know is what we know as men: that they want our land, want the entire continent to themselves, want our people enslaved to their Gods. And that we will fight to our last breaths to keep it from them.
It is a wonder that the girl I found has no training to fight; she is only nine or ten though, I am not sure which. When he returns Shalorin will find out for me. And he will teach her at least to use a dagger, for her frame is too small for even a short sword as of yet. She seems to have a little of the magical talent, and Shalorin can teach her in that as well. I cannot because I cannot speak her language; my magic far surpasses Shalorin’s though.
I am so sick of the fighting. It has only been one year of what may be many and I am weary and tired; only two of my men have died so far but I know many more on both sides have been lost or wounded. Some have been crippled. I know for a fact my own blood brother will not recover; we have never been very close, being far separate in age, but it frustrates me.
Shalorin is my closest friend throughout all of this. We were introduced on the way to the battlefield. He had been designated one of my warriors; one of ten Drakor. We are an Elite Force, this is what we have been designed as. Right away me and Shalorin grew close. While I care for all of my men, Shalorin has become my second in command, my right hand man and my best friend.
His values are the same as mine; love, family, friends, these are the things we fight for. I fight for my sister and my brother who lost his leg two weeks ago in this gruesome war. I fight for my mother and father, too old to come to the border and fight though I know my father wanted to. It was only after I begged him not to that he stopped himself.
Shalorin fights for the woman he loves, the woman he will marry when he returns home. And I will see to it that he returns home alive, as unhurt as possible. The scars left by war will never leave us; the fact that we have killed men and women-though neither of us will kill children-and that the blood of innocent people has stained our hands will haunt us both, and all of my men, until we die. But I will make sure that Shalorin returns otherwise unharmed.
I look after my own. I will look after him and I will look after this girl that I have found. I will take care of my men. Together my group of warriors will fight until this war is over. And some of us will not survive, but as many as I can keep alive will stay alive. I only pray that I can do my duty to protect my people-both here and at home.
~Alaendril
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