View Single Post
Old 04-11-2006, 04:04 AM   #206
Taralphiel
Ghost Prince of Cardolan
 
Taralphiel's Avatar
 
Join Date: Apr 2002
Location: Swan Wood
Posts: 649
Taralphiel has just left Hobbiton.
Send a message via MSN to Taralphiel
Three Days Later...

Lys winced. He felt pain; it seemed to radiate through his body, following little channels. First his left foot, then through his ankle and leg until it made him dizzy with the pain. It razored through to his chest and throbbed, making him wheeze for breath. Too little air filtered through his dry throat, and he had to close his eyes and feel the rain on his mud-streaked face to avoid a panic. His hair was over his eyes, and when he opened them, everything had a sickly tinge of red. The darts of pain spiralled through his right arm, which he could figure was also broken, and ended at his head with what he could only guess was a cut or gash of some sort.

‘Where…am I? Who…’

His thoughts jumbled around, like his head was being tossed though his body was still and deathly cold. Was it day or night? So much confused him. He knew it was foolish to try to move, stand, or walk. His blanket, as he observed, was finer than he, woven through with threads of gold and russet, sliding into deep blue oceans of soft cloth. But it was ruined, soaked in with this angry-smelling mud. He saw in front of him a barrel, though he knew not its contents. Maybe, if he later had the strength, he could try to push it over and see what was inside. Though, he doubted any contents would be of profit of him. No person would leave foodstuffs or warming blankets in a keg out in the middle of the mud and rain.

His stomach grumbled, rousing his hurt muscles, and he let out a soft, pathetic groan of pain. It seemed to comfort him a little to let it out, though it didn’t stop his stomach from protesting all the more fervently.

How long could he lie out here like this? A day, or maybe two? He had no idea how bad his injuries were, or where he was…not even who he was. This was the most frightening of all his troubles. He searched his memories. All he could find were dim lamps, cloaking darkness, cold mud and pounding rain…and screams for help. He tried the simplest of things – his name.

He began to see the dawn rise slowly through the line of the roof that sheltered him, and as he did he began to try and force out his own name.

“L…lll…Leee…” He frowned and raised the hand of his good arm to his face. He remained quiet for a few moments, trying to keep his breathing short but regular, and his mind empty of pain or hunger. He closed his eyes and let out in a voice lighter than a whisper:

“L-lys…Lys”.

He looked up at the warm dawn. Well, he knew two things now. His name (or part of it), and what time of day it was. All the other questions could wait a while, for he was exhausted already and in moments had fallen into a pained slumber.
Taralphiel is offline