Once they stepped out of the city, Lasgalen slowed down, becoming the last in line without reducing her pace. She had with her the sword she had used during her first encounter with Galadriel, a bow and arrows on her back, and two daggers perfectly tucked into her brown boots. Everything was surprisingly comfortable and not heavy at all: Elven blades were unlike any others. She began to grow rather thoughtful: she hadn't left the city since she had been saved by the elves, and seeing it from afar made her feel at the mercy of forces ready to capture her again. Elrond, noticing the girl's pace, walked up beside her.

"It's strange to see you dressed like this, I'm used to seeing you with your head buried in books" she said jokingly. He, too, was wearing the uniform and cloak of the Elven army, like everyone else present, and carried a fine, sharp sword at his side. His hair was more tousled than usual, but the expression on his face was the same as always.

"I hope you won't get too used to see me in these clothes" he replied with a smile. "But I must admit, I do have a certain charm" he added playfully.

After a few moments of smiles, the redhead turned serious again.
"I'm sorry I got you involved, I didn't want the King to summon you as well" she said regretfully. The thought of putting the elf in danger made her feel very guilty.

"Oh, so you don't want my company? You could have said so right away" he said in a mock serious tone, though he was actually joking.

"Oh no! You misunderstood! I meant that it's going to be dangerous, and with Galadriel already risking her life, dragging you into it too, well-" she stopped, rolling her eyes and letting out an annoyed grunt.

"I can't express what I mean" she added, gesturing before being interrupted by the elf, who started walking backwards in front of her, placing his hands on her shoulders. A slight shake. The brunette was in the throes of a hearty laugh. "What you're feeling, Lasgalen, is called friendship" he said, then stepped away and walked beside her again. Lasgalen's cheeks turned as red as apples, and the thought of becoming attached to someone made her as happy as it did frightened, since she felt the same way about the blonde.

"You haven't done anything wrong; the King acted exactly as he should have. There's never any disrespect between comrades. Besides, even though we found you in that situation, this matter doesn't concern only you, but all elves, so you didn't drag me into anything" the brunette tried to reassure her.

"And do you really think I'm that unskilled in combat? You'll see" he said jokingly, trying to lift her spirits. It worked, as the redhead laughed.

"I can't wait to see your warrior skills, Herald Elrond" Lasgalen said, giving her friend a playful nudge with her shoulder as they laughed together.
"Even though I would have preferred to see that at the palace, and not out here." added her.
Without realizing it, this was the first time she had initiated contact with someone of her own free will. It wasn't skin-to-skin, but it was still a milestone. She decided not to dwell on it too much, thinking that perhaps only by not focusing on it, she could overcome the block that kept her from fully interacting with others.

Throughout the day, she had often immersed herself in the beauty of Lindon's woods: the leaves, the scent of flowers despite winter's approach; the clear streams, the birds and cicadas that seemed to sing without pause. The grass was green and soft, brushing against her ankles through her uniform. Along the way, they spotted several foxes and squirrels, and even a mother wolf searching for food. However, nothing there seemed tainted by the darkness of the forest where she had previously lived. The sunlight shone through the leaves, casting a thousand different colors. Dragonflies weren't afraid to land on the water, and the fish swam back and forth tirelessly, as if they had urgent matters to attend to. There was no fear, no dread, only freedom.

________________

They stopped when the sun was nearly set, and they were halfway to their first attack point. As the sun dipped lower, the temperature also began to drop. They had eaten something along the way without stopping their march and found a great spot to spend the night. Each person settled near a tree, and they lit a fire that could warm them all. Lasgalen found herself between Galadriel and Elrond, while the other two were slightly farther away, almost directly across from them.

"We'll take turns keeping watch. I'll go first. Try to get some rest" Galadriel declared, sitting down and using the trunk of a tree as a backrest. She would never admit it, but her back was in tremendous pain. Elrond had wandered off not long before, while Lasgalen played with a long stick near the fire, sitting on the ground.

"You should rest" Galadriel told her with a gentle smile on her face.

"Yeah, I should" the redhead replied, looking at her and returning the smile.

"But the forest at night scares me." How many times had she been left out in the cold winter forest, with her toes turning dangerously purple, along with her fingers? The pain in her eyes, the numbness in her nose. And the darkness. How she hated the darkness. She had learned to live with it over the years, but that didn't mean it didn't constantly unsettle her.

"Even before you were taken, you lived in the woods, right?" the blonde asked. The redhead smiled.
"Yes... but that was a different forest. I don't know if it's just my experience talking, but it feels like the edges of the forest where I was kept were sick. The trees, the leaves, everything was darker. Nothing could grow, and the animals were constantly on the move. That's why they migrated" her tone had darkened, but she smiled again as she recalled her life before.

"My mother and I used to love lying on the ground to watch the stars at night. They were sometimes so bright that they'd outshine the moon. And she would make me laugh, telling stories about where things came from, since I was quite the chatterbox" the two laughed quietly, so as not to wake the others. Meanwhile, Elrond had returned and sat to Lasgalen's right, resting against the trunk of a nearby tree.

"Now I want to hear one" said Galadriel.

"One about what?" Elrond asked curiously, leaning his tired torso slightly forward.

"Stories from Lasgalen's mother to keep her curiosity in check."

"Oh, I love stories" he replied, leaning back again. Lasgalen shook her head, amused by the conversation between the two, before starting her tale.

"Once, she told me where the stars came from: those tiny glowing specks rising from the campfire are actually tiny stars that, as they rise, grow bigger and brighter until they touch the sky." The two simply smiled, afraid to speak and risk disrespecting the memory of her mother. Only by saying it out loud did she realize how both beautiful and silly it was. The redhead then burst into laughter.

"You should've seen my face as I stared at those specks, convinced they were stars." The other two started laughing as well, imagining the scene.

"I was sure that fireflies were stealing them" the three continued to laugh.

"How many questions did you ask as a child?" Elrond added.

"Enough to make my mother invent stories like that" the redhead replied.

"But never as many as you! I remember seeing you during your lessons how many questions you used to ask! You wouldn't even let the teacher finish explaining" said Galadriel, laughing, followed by the redhead.

"I can't say I find that hard to believe" Lasgalen finally threw the twig into the fire.

"Jealous."

Though the mothers of the two young elves were legends, having helped save Middle-earth, her mother didn't seem any less valiant or important. She remembered how her mother had fought until her last breath before dying. How she had shown strength every day of her life. And how she wouldn't have hesitated to do the same things Elwing and Eärwen, the mothers of Elrond and Galadriel, had done to save this world-a world where their children could live.

After a moment, everyone grew serious. Perhaps the memories of their deceased mothers had resurfaced in their minds.

"I need you to promise me something" the redhead said, looking at both of them. She then leaned back against the same tree as Elrond, while Galadriel stood up, approached, and knelt beside her.

"If something ever goes wrong, and they capture me again-"

"That won't happen" Galadriel interrupted her immediately.

"Yes, but if it does, you must kill me before I'm out of reach." She said it with such firmness that it didn't even seem like she was talking about death.

Both of them lowered their gaze.

"I beg you. I can't spend even one more second of my life at the mercy of those creatures. Not even a single second. So, I ask you, I implore you, don't let it happen. Promise me." She looked at both of them, her eyes already brimming with tears, but with a faint smile.

"An ngell nîn" (Please)
She added whispering.

"If I'm asking you this, it's because I trust you, and I'd rather die by your arrow than by-" The girl froze the moment Galadriel wrapped her in a tight embrace, resting her head in the crook between Lasgalen's face and shoulder. Her hair had taken on the scent of the damp leaves of the forest and the ashes from the campfire, and the fabric of her uniform was rough and rain-resistant. After a moment, Lasgalen returned the embrace, holding her tightly, letting a few tears fall from her face. She hadn't realized how much she needed it until that moment: she felt weak, vulnerable, with an urge to push her away out of fear she might unexpectedly hurt her. On the other hand, being held in a warm embrace was one of the things she had missed most all those years. Elrond placed a hand on Galadriel's head, gently stroking her hair, his gaze focused on Lasgalen.

The blonde pulled away slightly, and only then did the redhead notice two tears had rolled down the eyes of their commander.

"It will never happen. But if it ever does, I promise I will do as you ask" there was pain in her eyes, and much of it. Her father's words came back to her:

Look into the eyes of the one you kill

And at that moment, she realized the gravity of what she was asking of the two elves.

"I promise to honor your wishes" added Elrond, his sorrowful gaze meeting Lasgalen's large green eyes, which now showed gratitude. If she had to die, it would be an honorable death by their hands.

"Well, enough thinking about things that will never happen" said Galadriel as she composed herself, slowly rising to her feet.
"I'll scout the perimeter" she said, placing a hand on her sword and starting to walk around their tiny camp.

Lasgalen and Elrond exchanged a glance before the redhead could speak again.

"I'll leave you to rest in peace" she said with a smile, beginning to move to another spot.

"You can stay here if you want; it's not like we're lacking the cold" he added, glancing at the other two members of the group, who were sitting side by side to keep warm.

Lasgalen settled back beside the elf, and the two of them stared into the fire in silence. After a while, Lasgalen rested her head on the shoulder of the brown-haired elf. He smiled, looking at her but said nothing, and the redhead slipped into a deep meditation.

The night was cold, and Galadriel kept warm by staying active, either walking or crouching near the fire. She swapped shifts with Syrìa until the dawn rose. Lasgalen opened her eyes, lifting her head from Elrond's shoulder, though his eyes were still closed.

They drank some hot tea before setting out again, but that morning, everyone was more somber. That afternoon, they would attack the first camp. No one could escape. They all had to be killed, or they could alert the others. Galadriel and Armond didn't seem troubled at the prospect of killing; in fact, they seemed eager, angry about the crimes committed. Elrond and Syrìa weren't exactly enthusiastic, and as for Lasgalen, there was a constant turmoil of confused emotions swirling inside her.

She wanted them dead. All of them. But her father had also taught her the value of life. And she had never killed anyone before.

They set off, marching without pause.

Once they reached the edge of the targeted area, they began hearing noises. Galadriel signaled for absolute silence. Not even a whisper was allowed. They split up, each tasked with a different part of the small camp, silently eliminating the outer guards until those in the center had no escape. Galadriel was the first to strike, followed by Armond, Syrìa, and Elrond. As soon as Lasgalen saw them engage, she swiftly descended from the tree she had climbed and intercepted a scruffy, bearded middle-aged man.

"Scum!" he shouted just before Lasgalen drove her blade deep into his chest, sinking it almost to the hilt. She stared into his eyes, wanting it to be the last thing he saw before he died. She pulled out her sword, and the man's heavy body collapsed to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Lasgalen killed another man, then another, and a woman too. While Galadriel, Elrond, and Lasgalen dealt with the adults in sight, Syrìa and Armond searched every tent and wagon to make sure no one was left behind. Once everyone was dead, Lasgalen continued stabbing a dagger into the throat of a man who had already been lifeless for some time.

"Lasgalen, he's dead, stop" said Elrond, pulling her up. She pointed the knife at his throat.

"Lasgalen. They're dead. He's dead." he said gently. Her eyes were glassy and mechanical, as though controlled by a force beyond her. She immediately let the dagger fall to the ground.

"Oh heavens, Elrond, forgive me" she said, her face stricken as she placed a hand on the elf's cheek.

"It's all right, it's all right" he reassured her, as she cast her gaze on the man she had just shredded to pieces. Galadriel quickly joined them; no one else had seen what had happened.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

"No injuries" Elrond replied, still holding Lasgalen in his arms. After a moment, she pulled away, still in shock, staring at the ground.

"Hey, look at me" Galadriel said, placing her hands firmly on Lasgalen's arms.

"Take a deep breath. It's always like this the first time" said Galadriel. The redhead followed her friend's advice, and after a few slow, deep breaths, she managed to calm her heart, which had felt like it was about to burst from her chest.

A few moments later, the others joined them.

"Well?" asked the blonde, releasing Lasgalen.

"All clear, there's no one left" said Armond.

"Did you check inside the crates under the wagons? Sometimes they hide children there" Lasgalen added.

"Checked all the wagons, completely empty" Syrìa replied confidently.

After a brief moment of silence, with everyone glancing around, the commander spoke.

"Good, this was just one. Let's move out and find a safe place to rest. Tomorrow, we hit the next one."

The closer they got to the encampment areas, the more isolated they became, and the higher the chances of being spotted. They found refuge on a hillside that had a natural alcove carved from solid rock halfway up.

"No fire tonight; we're too close" Galadriel instructed. The only way to keep warm was to huddle together in the semi-cave and wait for the sun to rise again. This time, Galadriel and Syrìa rested, while Lasgalen, Elrond, and Armond kept watch, their weapons at the ready.

Galadriel held Lasgalen's hand, though it was hidden beneath their cloaks. That fearless blonde had a softer side she didn't show often. On Lasgalen's right was Elrond again, but this time, neither of them spoke, as Armond was close enough to overhear any conversation. Their legs touched, and as the days passed, Lasgalen found herself less and less bothered by the contact with the two of them.

What was she feeling?
Relief? No. It wasn't relief. The truth was, she felt an immense emptiness inside. She had killed them, plunged her blade into their filthy flesh, yet it didn't seem like enough. It hadn't given her that sense of retribution she thought she'd feel.

Instead, she felt nauseous. She would have vomited if she'd had anything in her stomach, but she'd skipped the meal that evening. The stench of blood mixed with mud, the sight of all that destruction in front of her... It had been deserved; those beings had earned their fate. The elves had given them a death far too swift for all the harm they had caused.

Yet, she felt sick. Her stomach twisted, and her head throbbed. The air didn't seem to fill her lungs. It felt as if she were drowning in the open air, with no way to escape. Now she understood her mother's words when she scolded her father for encouraging their daughter's days in battle. It was all horrible. Horrible but necessary. The sensation of the sword in her hand as it pierced the flesh of the first man still lingered with her. She had felt the bones, the organs giving way, every detail. It had been ghastly, but in that moment, it seemed like the only thing that could bring her satisfaction.

Relief? No, she wasn't relieved, and her mind replayed the words of Gil-galad:

Revenge won't bring you peace.

After that afternoon, Lasgalen feared he might have been right.

Elrond noticed his friend tormenting herself, pinching her right leg as she stared into the void, trying to release some of the tension. As if the atmosphere weren't unpleasant enough, a heavy rain began to fall.

The brown-haired elf wrapped an arm around his friend, pulling her close without saying a word.

Lasgalen flinched, momentarily startled out of her thoughts, but then allowed herself to be held by Elrond, while her left hand still gripped Galadriel's.

In all that horror, she could rely on the strength of others when hers failed, and that was a precious gift.

The next two days, they destroyed the other two camps, leaving only one intact-the last one, slightly farther away than the others. Armond had killed a couple of children. Galadriel had scolded him, saying he should have brought them to her first. But Lasgalen remained silent. Those weren't normal children; they seemed to have been born with a deep-rooted evil in their guts, unnatural for such small mortal souls.

The redhead was extremely quiet during those days, limiting her responses to simple nods or shakes of her head when spoken to. During the destruction of the camps, they had found shackles, bone-crushing tools, and other various instruments of torture. There were also a moderate number of axes, which had likely been used to sever countless elven ears. Syrìa and Galadriel had dealt with killing the rabid dogs at the second camp, ferocious animals foaming at the mouth. They lived in filth, sleeping in their own excrement, and showed no mercy even to those who tried to care for them.

The only time Lasgalen initiated a small conversation in those days was when Syrìa got injured on her arm.

"How's it going?" asked the redhead with a slight smile, glancing at the elf's bandaged arm. It was just a cut near the shoulder, but deep.

"It was better before" the dark-haired elf replied sarcastically, looking at the wound, which had begun to bleed again.

"I found these nearby, washed them in the stream. If you put them on the wound, they should release an anti-inflammatory substance. It'll make you feel better" said the redhead, handing her four large green leaves. Her mother's healing lessons were proving useful. Syrìa scrutinized Lasgalen for a moment, then finally accepted the leaves with a faint smile.

"Thank you" she added, before the redhead moved away.

"She's just processing things. We need to give her time and let it flow" Galadriel said the night before they were to attack the last camp, sitting next to Elrond by a lit fire.

"That's right" he replied, glancing at Lasgalen, who sat a bit further away next to Syrìa.

"I wonder how it must feel, returning to the places where she was tortured. Seeing the wagons and tents where she was beaten and violated. All of this is too dark, even for men."

"I wonder how many elves they've killed" whispered the blonde, staring into the fire. If they had, they left no trace. Lasgalen had told them earlier that once captured, they burned everything you had, giving you nothing but a heap of rags to cover yourself with and to arrange as best you could. If they found weapons, they would steal them and sell them to roving markets, sending one of their own on horseback to the lands of men.

Elrond looked at his friend with a soft smile, brushing her hair away from her face.

"We can't undo what our blindness has helped create, but we're making amends. Nothing like this will ever happen again." Galadriel returned his smile, gazing at her friend before stretching her hands toward the fire.

The next day, everyone seemed more energized. The thought of finishing the job and returning home seemed to motivate them all. They gathered their things and headed for the next camp. Lasgalen walked at a brisk pace like the others, though her face was veiled with sadness and weariness.

When they neared the last camp, they noticed it was larger than the others. Galadriel glanced at her companions before they split up.

"Let's finish off these beasts and go home."

After silently killing the guards at the camp, the five elves began to decimate the camp's inhabitants. Yes, they were far more numerous, but the arrows of Armond and Lasgalen from atop the carts quickly took down many of them. It wasn't as simple and quick as the first three camps, but in the end, they prevailed, and Galadriel wanted to leave alive what appeared to be the leader. He was wounded and dying, but the blonde wanted to take the opportunity to ask him some questions.

"Who is your master?" she snarled as the others pointed blades and arrows at him. The old man started to laugh, spitting blood from his mouth, revealing decayed teeth.

"Answer the question" said Syrìa.

"Myself, scum."

"Why didn't you hide with your master to the east, crawling back into the darkness from which you came?" Galadriel continued, her eyes brimming with rage as the old man continued to laugh.

"Save your breath for talking" Elrond added, placing his sword against the man's throat.

"And leave all the good things we could still take from these lands? Why should we?" he said before coughing.

"Soon you'll return to the monster that spawned you" Galadriel said, ready to pierce him with her sword.

"At least I'll be the last to perish; ask your disgusting friend" he said, laughing as he looked at a tent. Everyone's eyes went wide. Elrond killed him with a swift stroke of his sword while Galadriel's eyes overflowed with horror.

They all rushed toward the tent, with Lasgalen being the fastest. Inside the tent lay someone on the ground. She appeared to be a woman with long, dull, tousled brown hair. She wore a rough sack fashioned into a dress with a couple of ropes. Lasgalen approached with tears in her eyes, but there was no need to get close to her face to understand.

The others entered, and Galadriel and Elrond rushed to the young woman's face. The brown-haired elf uncovered her ears. They were severed, like Lasgalen's. She was an elf. Her eyes were open but devoid of any light, and her mouth had a slight crack. She was as pale as snow and still had chains on her wrists and ankles.

Elrond made a desperate attempt to find vital signs, but there were none.

"No, no, no, please, wake up, wake up, come on, hey" Galadriel said with a broken voice as she gently slapped the young woman's face.

Syrìa covered her mouth as a tear rolled down her face, which she soon turned away. Armond had his fists clenched, his gaze defeated and angry as he looked at the lifeless body of the elf.

Lasgalen collapsed to her knees, her lips trembling and her eyes overflowing with tears that fell without her needing to blink. Galadriel, defeated, brushed the hair from the girl's face, closed her eyes and mouth, and brought her hands to her chest.

"Always too late" Armond said before leaving the tent. Elrond ran his fingers through his hair, bowing his head and shaking it in dismay. They hadn't succeeded, not completely.

It could have been me.

Lasgalen repeated to herself.

This young elf is dead, and we were on the same path. But I am alive, and she is dead.

"Let's not leave her here" Lasgalen implored the two, who immediately looked at her, and her pain pierced them deeply.

"She deserves a place among her people" the redhead continued. The two of them, of course, agreed.

They took the horses from the camp, leaving one free since there were six of them. They fashioned a small wooden stretcher on the spot for two of them, where they laid the young elf's body and covered it well with a cloth.

They began their journey home. They would probably take half the time, given the help of the horses. Galadriel led the line, followed by Elrond and Lasgalen side by side, with Syrìa and Armond trailing the body of the elf.

Relief? No, there was no relief at that moment. Maybe it would come with time, but not then.

Can victory at the expense of innocents be considered a victory?