[maikafanawen]

Tinuviel's Post


Stunned, Reyn could only stare at Taurëwen. "Cut it off? But how—what can—what use could I possibly be with only one leg?" The idea sickened him. Lose the leg entirely? He'd expected to need a long time of recuperation for the wound, but could it really be so bad as to need amputation? There was no way he could even begin to grasp the consequences of such a thing. If he had only one leg, how could he live alone in the middle of the forest the way he did? How would he even manage to live alone among the other elves? He would have to live with his father again. And that he would not do.

"Is there no way to save it?" he asked, not daring to hope. He already knew the answer. If she said that he had to lose the leg or die, she spoke truth. He would be a cripple. A freak. There were no elves that were crippled in this manner. A few Men, yes, but never elves. None he knew of, at least. Surely, surely there was a way to save his leg. He just couldn't face a future of living on the charity of others. The idea horrified him. To depend on someone else for the very staples of existence, that, that would be terrible. He would have none of the independence he so loved. That, most of all, would be the worst thing about this whole business.

"I'm sorry, Reynion."

"You needn't be. It's not your fault." No, no, it was his own fault. He should have done something about it immediately. He shouldn't have tried to hide how bad it was. He should have, he should have. There was no use wasting time this way. "Let's do it." He looked at his legs, and knew that this would probably be one of the last times he would ever see both whole. It was like dying, at least partially.

****

He refused to let her put him to sleep for the operation. It would hurt dreadfully, she warned, but he didn't care. There was no way that he would be sleeping, oblivious to his loss. He didn't want to go to sleep whole, and wake up in pieces. He knew that she would do her best not to cause him undue pain, but he couldn't bear to look into any of the others' eyes. He didn't want to see the pity there. He knew it would be, just as it had been there when Gilbereth had lost a hand to the spiders. It had been in his own eyes, he knew. Somehow, he felt that he could understand the younger elf better now. At least he was given a little time to get used to the idea. For Gil, it had been hardly a moment, in the heat of battle.

They tried to make certain that there were no orcs or spiders about before Taurëwen set up for the operation. It was a surprisingly peaceful glade, with a little stream running through one corner. Reyn knew that Taurëwen had chosen that glade because there was a stream. They would all want to wash their hands once she was through.

"Are you sure?" she asked him a final time, meaning would he please let her put him to sleep for the duration. He shook his head, adamant. He didn't trust his voice. She told him to lie down, and had Ceros and Ainemetion sit one at each of his shoulders, to hold him down during the operation itself. It did not reassure him that she thought he would need to be held down.

He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them. "Do it." Taurëwen nodded, trying to meet his eyes and reassure him, but he looked away. He didn't want any pity, from anyone. Especially not from her. Instead, he looked at the leg, now bared nearly to his hip. It was swollen and red above the knee, with angry swirls of color around the wound itself, while below the wound was black rotted flesh. It looked like a piece of meat, or perhaps that painter had lost his temper and dashed his palette against the canvas. It felt as though it were afire. He gritted his teeth, as she set blade to flesh.

If he'd thought that it was painful before, that was nothing compared to the pain when the blade parted his flesh and sliced deep into the muscle of his thigh. He arched his back, fighting to keep from screaming in agony. Ceros and Ainemetion leaned on his shoulders to keep him from thrashing. Taurëwen pressed down on his good leg, and sliced deeper into his leg. Reynion gritted his teeth again, determined that he would not scream. By the time Taurëwen had begun to saw through the bone, he wished he'd allowed her to send him to sleep; being awake for this was more painful than he'd imagined. He cried out, the last of his pride eroded by the intense pain.

Then, mercifully, the world went dark.

****

Reyn woke some time later with a mild headache. It paled in comparison with the dull throbbing pain from what was left of his left leg, but that was a far cry from its former pain and quite bearable. What was unbearable was the fact that his own stupidity in hiding the wound from Taurëwen had cost him his leg entirely. He was a cripple now. He would always be a cripple. For a moment, Reynion nearly gave in to the tears that threatened to seep out of his tightly closed eyes, but that moment passed soon enough. He wouldn't give any more cause for the others to pity him. He would not weep.

Someone tapped him on the shoulder. From the faint scent of herbs, and the gentleness of the touch, he knew it was Taurëwen. She was the last person he wanted to see. He didn't want her pity. He had wanted her affection, even, perhaps, her love. But now, certainly all she would find in her heart would be pity, if even that. He almost would have preferred dying to this half-life he saw stretching out before him. Perhaps there was no 'almost' about it. Perhaps d.eath would be preferable. Perhaps he'd been fooling himself when he thought that Taurëwen might possibly feel anything more for him than respect. And surely even that must be gone now.

He had never felt quite so miserable in all of his thousands of years. All he wanted to do was weep, but he refused to do even that. There would be no more show of weakness from him. His pride was truly all he had left, for his sword was useless, and he had never recovered his daggers from the body of the spider, and how could he manage to shoot a bow with only one leg? And there would be centuries of this, millennia, even.

Taurëwen seemed to sense that he wanted to be left alone, because she said nothing, merely walked away, leaving him with his morose thoughts.

[ September 22, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]

[ September 22, 2003: Message edited by: maikafanawen ]