Halbarad Dunadan - The pain of war...
He stood among the remains of what had once been the camp of the Dunedain. Now nothing more than a memory. The orcs had been swift and cunning in their attack. The Dunedain had left their guard down, and paid the price. Halbarad fell to his knees and began weeping. Without his love he was nothing. What would he fight for? To protect the simple folk of Bree? Nay, for to them he owed no gratitude. They treated him with scorn and great disdain. But more importantly, they treated Aragorn with scorn. To Halbarad this was an unspeakable crime. Aragorn was Estel, Elessar, the son of kings. He was Halbarad's friend, kinsman, and greatest ally. But now Aragorn was gone. Left with the others in the wake of the fierce assault. Halbarad realised now his purpose. The orcs would pay in blood. He would slay them gladly, laughing as he slew.
But to what end? how could Halbarad make a difference? Halbarad had seen the might of evil. He knew in his heart that his was a lost cause. If he were to spill much blood, what would it achieve? Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Halbarad sat in his grief for hours. Indeed there he sat ere the sun rose and threw the cloak of darkness from the world. he knew what he had to do. He knew the only thing he could do. he would seek for his love. When the attack had come the women and children had been scattered. Many had been found dead, their bodies cloven. Yet many more had been captured. Taken off to some dark cave for torment and death. Just as Elladan and Elrohir had sought revenge for the death of their mother, now Halbarad would seek his revenge. Difference or not, someone had to pay. Halbarad rose slowly to his feet. In his exhaustion he searched for his meager belongings for a moment before realising that he still had his pack on.
He set off, to the east. He tried to recall the happenings of the night before. But it all seemed so hazy now. He remembered that the orcs had attacked the camp. He remembered the screams of the women and children, the battle cries of the Dunedain as they flung themselves into battle in a vain effort to protect their beloved kin. He remembered Aragorn, hacking a path through the orcs so the women and children could escape. But it was all so fuzzy, so unclear. Was his love one of the ones who escaped on horseback? Was she captured? Killed? He knew not, but he would have to find her. Whether dead or alive, he would find her. As he walked through the day he began to have a glimmer of hope. He knew in his heart that she was not dead. He would find her.