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Old 04-04-2007, 04:56 PM   #146
Firefoot
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Firefoot has been trapped in the Barrow!
Taralphiel's Post

The dagger sank in and tore. The sickening smell and warmth of Helm’s fluid on his hands was all lost on Sorn. It was just the act, and the simple instinct. Helm bellowed, and the sound rose and rent the hillside as Sorn withdrew and plunged the blade again and again.

Scyld and the girl disappeared, as all the things that had once mattered were sifted in with the dirt under his feet. Helm’s blood mixed with his. He could feel the pain growing on his senses; the great weight of the blow to his skull. Sorn faltered, his arms going slack at his sides. He fell, a great weight to the dirt.

He mingled with the dust. He mingled with everything that did not matter. Sorn wished to laugh, at the great ruin he had made of himself, but his throat was too tight. His body lost all composure, and he could not lift his head from the dirt.

He heard shouting, and panicked cries all around him. He heard running, and the steady ringing thump of hooves growing louder. He saw Helm stagger, and begin to fall.

That was the last thing Sorn of Rohan saw. All was lost to him. All that was left of him was his crime, and the smear of shame that ended his house and line.

~*~*~

Firefoot's Post

Just like that, it was over. Sorn was dead, Gurth was dead, each slain by the other. Scyld’s head throbbed and his chest burned, but it was a smaller price than he had hoped to pay. His old life was gone. Already, a great tension was beginning to seep from his body. He knelt and wiped his knife on the ground, then sheathed it gently. He was… free, almost. Free from everything except Linduial and the law.

He stood up beside her. “That was a foolish thing you did, getting between Sorn and me,” he told Linduial, breaking the silence of the battle’s aftermath. “You should have run away.”

“And gotten how far?” she retorted.

Scyld just shook his head. “It was still foolish,” he said, but he was not condemning her. “But you are safe now.” In the distance, he could hear the sounds of voices and hoofbeats. He did not have much time. “You can go home to Dol Amroth, or to Edoras, or wherever you want.” Yes, that was how it would go. She would go home, little the worse for wear, and concern herself once more in her high and mighty politics. Eventually, she would forget about him, and this whole kidnapping would become as a dimly recalled nightmare. Scyld was surprised at how bitter he felt at the thought.

“Thank you,” she said. Then she faltered. “But… you say nothing of yourself.”

“I’m leaving. I do not know where I will go, but I am not going with you.”

“You still don’t trust me… after all this, you still don’t trust me,” she stated. He could not tell whether her tone was accusatory, or hurt, or just sad.

“I can’t.” He wondered if she knew how much he wanted to trust her. He wished he could. “It’s all I can do to let you go to them.”

“But you are hurt; your wounds must be cared for.” It was her last plea.

He shook his head again. “Both are shallow. I will be able to tend them myself.” He could tell that she was unconvinced.

The sounds were growing louder, closer, and her gaze drifted in that direction.

“Linduial, look at me.” The intensity of his voice drew her attention. “You must promise me that you will not try to find me, or send them after me.” It would be easy for them to catch him now; he was in no shape to fight, and he would go slowly because of his injuries. She started to nod, but this was not sufficient. He took her by the shoulders. “Promise me!”

“I promise, Scyld.” Once again, that unreadable mix of emotions crossed her face.

His grip, which had been tighter than he had realized, melted from her. “Thank you,” he said, and he meant it. Before the scene could grow any more awkward, he stated abruptly, “I must go now.” Without another word, he turned and began to labor the rest of the way up the slope. Her response was so soft that he almost did not hear it: “Farewell, Scyld.” He turned and nodded curtly. Farewell, Linduial… and thank you. Then the ground leveled out, and he disappeared from her sight.

And just when it seemed that he might really be free, Scyld knew that he wasn’t… and that, maybe, he didn’t want to be.

Last edited by Firefoot; 04-18-2007 at 09:17 PM.
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