Lord of the Rings Fanatics Plaza

I have encountered many styles of command in my time, from the patient but stern Isenfolme to the impassioned and spontaneous Ellenweorc. At this particular time in my life, I have found myself reflecting on all those experiences. As I witness the newest fresh intake of cavalry recruits, so young and nervous and hopeful, full of the same passion and drive and mischief I once had - and serving alongside them I see first-hand their growth in courage and skill - I ponder which among them might one day take on the mantle of leadership and find themselves facing the daunting task of leading a cavalry muster in defence of the Riddermark.

I am experienced, but I do not claim to be wise. I have served the cavalry in many of its ranks, but I would not profess to have truly mastered any of them. That said, the more I have witnessed the foolhardiness of youthful exuberance, the bright-eyed loyal soldiers receiving their first promotion in recognition of good service, and the frenetic hurrying of new commanders burning with a desire to prove themselves, the more I realise the value of all that I have experienced in my life, and the true preciousness of what little knowledge I have gathered in my years.

I have no children of my own to pass my wisdom down to, nor will I ever. My legacy as a warrior-woman may endure in the songs and sagas of my people, but as I have learned through my years you have not control who tells your story. That is, unless you write it for yourself.

I have no real wish to regale the world with all my greatest achievements or any of those heroic acts that history would have me applauded for (oft against my own wishes) for they are not the true measure of a person. The true measure of a warrior, and of a commander, is how they respond to duress, challenge and strife. How they respond to their own faults and failings, and how they learn from their mistakes. For we all make mistakes, and many of them! Even the Maiar are not perfect.

I expect these writings to be fragmentary, rambling and likely at times absurd. Should you have had the misfortune of discovering these pages then I do not have any expectation that you to find anything of value within them behind the ramblings of a self-glorified has-been, and frankly I have no issue with that if that is how you are inclined. I write only in the hopes that by sharing what little insights I have gained in my years of service, I might put in better form the thoughts that presently tumble about my head. If any others should also find some measure of peace or meaning within these pages, then I shall count myself blessed indeed. I ask not to be remembered for the deeds that I have done, but only for the aspiration I strove ever towards; hope, courage and love.

(OOC This is an IC thread designed to be a Middle-Earth equivalent of a personal blog mixed with a little of Sun Tzu’s “Art of War”. Allacan has been reflecting on her experiences as a commander in the Cavalry or Rohan, and her life in general, and for the most part feels compelled to write some of her thoughts on paper. She welcomes any and all contributions to her works by friends, colleagues, esteemed warriors or notable commanders from all nations.

This is an IC thread, and if possible I would like to avoid OOC comments so that each new post could be treated as another page of the book. Contributions to the publication are, however, are more than welcome. Please try and forms your submissions in the same manner as the post two example below. Thank-you.)

I recall during my cavalry training, when Feldmarshal Eledhwyn Isenfolme was my Larmaegister, that she set me an assignment to debate which of the contributions towards the victory at Helm’s Deep was the most significant.

In my youthful belief that I was capable of the nigh on impossible, and ignorantly placing faith in my (as I foolishly and nauseatingly thought then) superior intelligence and thorough schooling, I did not begin the essay until the night before it was due, and at a time when I was already thick-minded from the Aethelmund ales.

In my drunken haste and arrogance, I cobbled together what I believed to be a masterpiece. I could not honestly confirm whether my assessment of those capabilities were true, for in my reckless, inebriated state I fell asleep at the desk and, knocking the candle from its holding, promptly lost the entire endeavour (and a few eyebrow hairs) to the flame.

Nursing a hangover, and with nothing to present, so nevertheless was still buoyed by misplaced arrogance. So rather than explaining my issue to my Larmaegister and confessing the error of my ways while requesting further time, I attended on the Feldmarshal that morning and launched into what I could only imagine was a most cringeworthy and historically inaccurate monologue. Not only did I forego to mention the entire contribution made by those Ents or Huorns of Fangorn, but I also in my tired state stated that it was Eomer who led the charge down the Deep’s steep walls in relief of the assault of the Keep, and not Erkenbrand!

As soon as I was done, Feldmarshal Isenfolme patiently and quietly pointed out those factual errors and omissions I had made with such clear accuracy that I knew then that she was fully aware of what I had done; no doubt she had heard of my escapades in the pub the night before and had reports from the barracks’ staff regarding my small incendiary incident.

She was, I am glad to say, merciful and understanding, and for that I am eternally grateful. As soon as I realised how terribly I had performed, I was so utterly ashamed and humiliated that I have no doubt that if she had been any more firm or disparaging of me, that I would have quit the cavalry training in dishonour right there and never returned for another try. She took a gauge of my shame, and recognised that the lesson had already been learned; she did not belabour it, but instead provided me with opportunity to make up for it and then some. I treated every task she set thereafter as the absolute most important challenge ever laid before me, and committed everything I had towards making this woman proud. Earning the rank of sperewigend was equal in my measure as earning her approval, and when I declared my wish to join the Eastmark Eored in aspiration of those commanders I looked up to and hoped to one day do justice to, her smile of pride was worth a hundred horses.

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No matter how old or wise you believe yourself to be, you had to start somewhere; you were not born capable, and you - just like everyone else - had to learn through trial and error. Be patient with the young, let them make their mistakes, help them to learn. When they stumble, show them where they erred and guide them on the path to becoming better people.

If you are inexperienced and anxious, do not let your fear of failure paralyse you. Do not glorify or hero-worship others; no-one is perfect, and if you set too high standards for yourself or others, this will only lead to being disheartened and disappointed. Celebrate your every success, no matter how small; you have earned it!

To put it simple, every single one of us is broken in some way or form. Show me a person who has managed to get through this life without being scarred either emotionally or physically, and I will show you someone who is an expert at hiding their pain.

It has taken me a long time to realise that sometimes you have to stumble and make a mistake before you can learn what really makes you, you. To learn what you are passionate about, you have to experience a variety of things, and informative and insightful experiences rarely come and find you if you are hiding in your bedroom or staying in your comfort zone. Hiding away from the world may be safe, but it doesn't help you to grow. Trying something new, taking a risk, pushing yourself can be terrifying, yes. I will admit that for sure. But sometimes the most wholesome lessons are the ones you learn while you are failing, not succeeding.

I was always successful as a youngster; a natural at nearly anything I put my mind to, gifted some would tell me. But it was not my successes that formulated me into the person I am today; it was my failures. My cowardice in fleeing the attack that claimed all my family and loved ones taught me the true value of courage. My recklessness in the Southern Storm campaign that put my comrades and lover at risk taught me the meaning of discipline. My endurance in impossibly surviving beyond a martyrous death taught me the value of life.

It is during the most difficult periods in our life that we are transformed the most; trauma, peril and pain do not always make you stronger, but they can make you more compassionate, empathetic and patient. Those memories that haunt you may very well be the ones that define the strength and appeal of the person you have become.

Don't hate yourself for your shortfalls, your failings, your mistakes. Be gentle with yourself; realise that it is your imperfections and brokenness that makes you unique and beautiful. If you can learn to accept your victories and your defeats with equal attention and respect, then you will truly begin to discover the strength that lies within yourself. For what are we, but the culmination of each of our respective experiences, and kaleidoscope of memories and encounters, reactions and repercussions? The cracks in the gem still reflect the light, but in new and beautifully original ways.

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You are not perfect, but no-one is. Making mistakes is natural, and the only real failure is the failure to try. Don't hate yourself if you don't always meet your own expectations; be gentle with yourself. Accept both your failings and your successes, and remember that it is often the greatest trials we face that define the strength of the people we become.