|
Lingwë had never been waiting for a battle, and it made him nervous. The few battles he had been in had been pirate attacks; they had started and ended suddenly. Lingwë wished that it had been so this time also. But no, this was a real war, where tactics where used, not a mindless little clash between two little ships. The battle starts soon, but not soon, he thought.
Memories of the old fights flooded to his mind while they were making preparations on the Ráca's deck. He remembered strange frenzy that had overcome him when his friend was hit, he remembered the cries of the dying. But worst of all was after battle, seeing the deck red with blood and dead or wounded men lying on it. And now this isn't just a little battle with a few men dead. This is going to be a slaughter, he thought. He hoped that he wouldn't be one of those who would die.
The working men were mostly quiet and some where trying to hide their anxiousness behind rude jokes. He heard his friend Curamir laugh at them along many others, but his laugh was a fake laugh. Lingwë looked at him. He saw that Curamir was as nervous as he was. Or maybe even more nervous, he thought, this is his first fight. With a sudden pang he realised how worried he was about Curamir, and Nimir too. I'm not that much older or more experienced, he reminded himself. Still, he felt slightly big brotherish and remembering his own big brother he considered that a big fault. I have enough worrying, if I worry only about my self , he thought.
|