Liren crept through the dense forest, her slender form moving nimbly over fallen logs and around prickly brambles. She had been assigned the task of scouting ahead for her elven unit, and she took her duty seriously. The war between the nations of Arthmydia raged on, and every step she took could mean the difference between life and death for her comrades. As she pushed deeper into the forest, she remained vigilant, scanning the surroundings for any sign of danger.

Liren's ears perked up at the sound of clashing metal growing louder, and she picked up her pace to investigate the source. As she drew closer, she saw a group of battered dwarves fighting for their lives against a wave of human enemies. The humans outnumbered the dwarves, but the dwarves' sturdy armor and weapons held their own. Suddenly, the human soldiers began to retreat, leaving the dwarves standing, though barely. Liren emerged from her hiding spot behind a large tree, her bow drawn and aimed at the humans' backs in case they returned. As she did so, the dwarves turned to look her way, bristling and preparing to fight if she proved to be a threat.

"You need not fear any longer," she said to the dwarves, lowering her bow. "I was sent to provide backup for you."

The dwarves, though relieved, did not seem so willing to let their guard down. "Who sent you?" one of them asked gruffly.

Liren could hear the wariness in the dwarf's voice and understood their caution. "I am Liren, a scout for the army of Nyidem," she replied, keeping her hands away from her weapons. "We are allies with Helarn, and I was sent ahead to gather information and provide aid where needed."

The dwarf grunted, eyeing Liren up and down. "We have had our fill of the war and could use all the help we can get," he said, gesturing to his companions who were bandaging their wounds and taking stock of their supplies. "We cannot let our guard down yet." Liren nodded, understanding the dwarf's caution, and took her position alongside the dwarves, scanning the forest for any signs of danger.

She noticed the exhaustion etched on the faces of the dwarves, their hands shaking as they tended to their wounds. "You need to rest," she urged, extending a caring hand to the closest dwarf. "My forces will arrive soon, and we can help you push them back."

The dwarf shrugged her hand off and replied, "We've rested enough. We'll rest when our land is purged of the Uzgardian scum." Liren could hear the bitterness in the dwarf's voice, and the pain of the loss they had suffered. She understood their anger and their desire for vengeance but knew that they were not in the position to win this battle alone.

"I know how you feel, believe me," Liren said, looking at each dwarf in turn. "But you are not alone in this fight. Let us help you."

The dwarf looked hesitant, but he eventually gave in to Liren's suggestion. "Very well," he said with a sigh, "we will set up camp here and wait for your forces to arrive." The dwarves started to clear a spot for the camp, and Liren helped them.

As they worked, Liren's mind couldn't help but wander to the dead bodies scattered around them. The cold, empty eyes of the fallen dwarves and humans alike seemed to follow her, haunting her with their final expressions frozen on their faces. She pushed the scarring trauma aside, knowing that they needed to focus on survival. They had to be ready.

* * * * ☀ * * * *

As night fell, the dwarves lit a fire and set up a watch. Liren volunteered to take one of the watches, and she found herself standing guard alongside Brennek Dansdim, the dwarf she had spoken to earlier. They stood in silence for a while, listening to the quiet melody of crickets chirping, the atmosphere only broken when Brennek cleared his throat to speak.

"Before the war, I was a cook," he said, "I owned a tavern with my wife."

Liren turned to him with intrigue. "A tavern?" she asked. "What kind of food did you serve?"

Brennek chuckled, a hint of longing in his voice. "All kinds," he said. "Our specialty was trout, but we did much more. Roast beef, lamb, chicken, you name it. We even made a mean vegetable stew that was a hit with the locals." 

Liren smiled, imagining the warm and welcoming tavern filled with the smell of delicious food. "That sounds lovely," she said.

He tilted his head to the side. "What about you, Liren? What did you do before the war?" Brennek asked.

Liren hesitated for a moment, then spoke. "I was a scholar," she said. "I spent my days in the town's library, reading about the history of Arthmydia."

Brennek looked at her in surprise. "A scholar? I wouldn't have guessed," he said, smiling. "What did you like to read about?"

Liren's eyes lit up as she began to talk about her love for ancient languages, myths, and legends. She shared stories of her research and discoveries, of the obscure tomes she had unearthed in forgotten corners of the library, and all she could recall from reading about the world before the Great Redemption. Brennek listened intently, fascinated by Liren's passion and knowledge. As they talked, they forgot about the war, the death, and the pain around them. For a brief moment, they were just two people sharing stories, united by a love of knowledge and good food. It was a rare moment of peace in a world torn apart by conflict.

“Do you have any family fighting in the war?" Liren asked in a natural shift of subject. Brennek's smile faded a bit, and he looked down at his feet.
"My son, Bjorn," he said, "He's a cook aboard a vessel patrolling the Gulf of Ghihd."

Liren nodded sympathetically. "It must be hard for you," she said. Brennek looked up at the stars, his eyes serious.

"It is," he said. "But I know he's doing his part. And I trust that he can take care of himself." Brennek looked to Liren. "What about you? Do you have any family fighting?"

Liren's eyes became rather distant. She knew by asking him such a personal question could lead to the same being asked of her, but even so, the query somehow caught her off-guard. "My brother is…” she choked on her words and corrected herself. “Well, not anymore," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "His name was Ildar, and he died early in the war." There was a heavy silence as Brennek looked at Liren, sympathy etched on his face. “He was on the lines protecting the border when Tyrian’s first wave of forces reached Nyidem.”

Brennek's face shifted, darkened with anger. "That bastard," he spat as he spoke of Tyrian, the king of Uzarg. "He claims that Pelor demands bloodshed through battle, and so many have died because of it." Brennek shook his head. "Pelor is a god of the sun, not of death and destruction. Tyrian has twisted his teachings to suit his own sick desires." Brennek clenched his fists. "I curse Tyrian and Pelor for what they've done to our lands, to our families, and to our people."

Liren watched and internalized her own feelings before making a response. "I know it's hard," she said softly, "But we can't let our emotions cloud our judgment. The only way we'll win this war is with clear minds to think strategically, not blind fury."

Brennek bristled at her words. "How can you talk about calm and strategy at a time like this? In a conflict that claimed the life of your brother," he said. "You may have convinced me to wait for your allies, but if it were up to me, we would be marching straight away to slaughter the lot of those wretched sun-god minions. We need to take action now, while our enemy is vulnerable."

Liren nodded understandingly. "I know it's frustrating," she said, "But we can't just rush into battle without a plan. We need to bide our time, and wait for the right moment."

Brennek looked at her, a mixture of anger and grudging respect on his face. "You're right," he said finally, turning away. "There's a time and a place for patient strategy. But when the moment comes, we need to be ready to strike." Brennek turned and noticed that Liren's eyes were heavy with exhaustion. "You need to get some rest," he said with care, tone softening and contrasting with his passion he displayed earlier.

Liren protested. “If anything, it should be you resting. You fought tooth and nail when I found you, and that was only six hours ago. I will keep watch.”

Brennek wasn't going to back down though. "I can handle it," he said, "And besides, you were the one who just told me that we need to bide our time and wait for the right moment. Well, we all need to be at our best when that comes. You would make yourself a hypocrite if you won’t even follow your own words and set an example for this stubborn old man.” He gestured to himself with a chuckle. Liren was about to retort again, but Brennek held up a hand. "No more arguments," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "You can't even stand up straight right now. Don't worry, I'll wake you up if anything happens."

Defeated, and knowing he was set on his decision, Liren thanked Brennek and left, finding a space to set her bedroll.

Liren lay down, her thoughts consumed by memories of her brother. She wondered what he would think of her now, fighting in this war that seemed to have no end. She thought of Bjorn, Brennek's son, and wondered if he was still alive and well. She hoped that someday, when all of this was over, she might get the chance to meet him and tell him about his father's bravery. Her eyes grew heavy, and she let out a deep sigh, finally succumbing to sleep.

For the first time in what felt like ages, her dreams were free of the sounds of battle, and the sight of the dead and dying.