The Last Man Standing

 The Last Man Standing 

“The last man standing” is a title that most men dream of bearing. But those dreamers do not think of the weight that this title holds. To be the last man standing is to be surrounded by the bodies of everyone you once held dear. It is a wave of grief and guilt that holds you under and never lets you come up for air. It is an anger that consumes you until you are nothing but rage. The day I earned this title, was the day my life became a pit of neverending loneliness. 

As the sun began to rise over the horizon, we walked into battle with our shoulders back and heads held high, ignorant of the slaughter yet to come. When we arrived, the valley was already covered in the flames of the Balrogs. No beauty remained except one single untouched flower. As we march towards our fate, we are greeted by a storm of orcs, ready to do whatever it takes to overthrow us. We begin our battle strong and true, and while the end is far from view, hope still lingers in the depths of our hearts. 

     I can remember the exact moment when that hope disappeared for all of us. The battle was raging strong, and wherever I turned, there was an orc armed and ready to kill. I searched through the mass of dueling bodies, looking for any sight of my brother, Huor. What I saw will burden my soul for the rest of my cursed life. An arrow flies towards my younger brother, and pierces him straight in the eye. I see him drop to the ground, helpless and unarmed, as orcs surround him to finish him off. I am too far away to provide any aid. Instead I am forced to watch my brother's demise. Filled with a blinding rage, I was determined to destroy everything in my wake. As the battle comes to a conclusion, I am surrounded by the lifeless bodies of all of the brave warriors who joined me in this fight. I walk over to my brother’s body, the vehicle that his soul used to inhabit, and fall to my knees. I lift up his hand to hold it in mine, but as soon as I do, I see that single flower—crushed under the weight of my brother—its beauty dying with him.