Life as a Dragon (LOTR)

I made my way to the battlefield, and as I rounded a jutting rock, I was met with a heart-breaking sight. Men, dwarves, and Elves walked through the piles of dead. Some collapsed in a cry of agony at finding their Brothers or fathers lying in the ashen field of Mordor. Elf comforted Men, and Dwarves cried. The horrors of war could not be adequately portrayed with words, but the agony of losing a loved one may be close. 

I initially wanted to strut my stuff and proclaim my contribution to the battle, but now I find myself stuck at the edge, with a somber reality settling into my psyche.

This world was not fiction I read in a book and excitedly chatted about in forums. Here, death was final (kind of), and the heroes you dream about fought brutal battles where life and death hung in the balance. Could a modern-day man like me even comprehend the gravity of it all until now?

Sighing, I lay down as I decided that now was not the time to collect my reward. Watching for a while, a dwarf finally approached me while I was licking my wound.

Graghin looked worn down. His eyes were haunted by despair, and his once pristine armor was dirtied with Orc blood and a little of his own. He stopped next to me before turning back to look at the aftermath, promptly sitting down on a small rock.

"No matter how long I live, war surprises me. I can never get used to it all. Thank Mahal, my sons were not old enough to have seen such atrocities."

From the books, I knew that, unlike in the movies, the War of the Last Alliance lasted seven years, and I had only come at the last battle. Sauron was never winning this, but I had come—for benefits, no less. My thoughts feel so dirty now and naïve.

"I did not know true horror until now, Graghin. The fields littered with thousands of dead… my mind could not even comprehend until now. I have hunted prey my whole life, taking the lifeblood of many a beast for sustenance and nourishment. But… this is not anywhere close to that. Killing just to kill. Brutality just to be brutal. There is no purpose, no room for remorse. I did not understand."

As I watched the battlefield be cleaned up, the words in my heart spilled from my lips in a rush. I could not get out my thoughts fast enough. The celebration and the drinking I always thought accompanied were nowhere to be seen, and only sorrow and pain remained.

Graghin nodded his head in understanding and pulled a pipe from seemingly nowhere. Lighting it with a match, he flicked off the rock he was sitting on, moving his gaze up to the sky while leaning back.

"War never gets easier, no matter how often you have to do it. The only thing that changes is how you cope with it. The first time, you do not know. But by the third, fourth, fifth-you know what drinks you need and how much laughter it takes. You never forget, but you learn to forgive yourself."

I pondered on his words, things he probably tells all the young Dwarves who expected glory and honors to brag about.

"Thank you, Master Dwarf, for your kind words. I know our kind have not got along and may even hate each other, but you have my word; I will never attack your people unless provoked."

I could not offer much else right now. I wish I had explored the world sooner, not laid around in my cave. They say the past is the past, but regret is not so simple. What if I had been here at the start of the war? How many lives could I have saved? These questions will plague me for a while, but I will never know the answer to them.