Work Text:
It wasn’t fair, all of them have been raised in the Light of the Trees and they have grown up with music, holy medicine, Valar to report their problem t, balls, white cities and safe woods and now, there wasn’t anything that could even remember them of their fair childhood. In the deep woods of Beleriand there wasn't Oromë with his Hunt that kept the Woods safe, there were orcs and some other vicious creatures, the cities weren’t white and shining as the beautiful Tirion but they were made with functionality in mind rather than beauty and the sword that all of them had forged in Tirion as symbols of their status and their meaningless quarrels now where their instrument of survival… boys raised for the greatness of Peace unleashed for murder and war.