Captain

Captain

Once I was sure that my lord was asleep, I made to leave the tent. My gaze fell on the great banner, now rolled-up and nothing more than black cloth on a staff.
He is dead, Halladan, your brother is dead. Time to grieve would come, but it was not now.
The air outside was cool and I breathed deeply, trying to clear my head and think of what was necessary at the moment. Haldon was waiting for me, his face grim and unreadable. Beren and Barahir had taken up positions to the right and to the left.
Suddenly I felt pride surge up in me. We are Rangers, the King's men. Proudly we stand guard.

“Come brother, let us go to the fire. You are weary.”
As we walked on the field of battle, I took in my surroundings. Orcs and other creatures lay beside men of the West.
No, war was never fair or glorious, it was filled with the terror and the screams of men and beast. I had survived another battle and would see another dawn. But many will not.

Soon we arrived at the campfire surrounded by our tents. There sat my two dozen uninjured Rangers, everyone hardy and seasoned warriors. Two lay in the houses of healing, but we had lost one your brother.
Now they would look up to me as their captain. I would never be able to replace him, neither in Aragorn's heart, nor in those of my people.
But I would try my best, as Captain and as my lord's right hand. I knew that they would follow me as they had followed Halbarad.