He heard a voice very close by, “Erdaminéon, are you alright?” Without opening his eyes, he knew it was Mearalagos. He could sense the elf, kneeling close by. The voice of a friend was comforting, and helped to drive away the pain. With an effort, he raised his head. Mearalagos was not without his own injuries; in fact his ear had been horribly torn. From the angle of his sight, he couldn’t see the others, but he could just hear faint voices, discussing their own matters.
“I shan’t die,” He said faintly, “I just need rest. It’s nothing rest won’t heal. In fact, I should be fine in a minute.” He let his head rest against the tree trunk again, adding, “I suppose I’m lucky to still have my arm,” he smiled weakly, “I wouldn’t be much use to you all without it.” He opened his eyes, surveying Mearalagos’s wounds. “You should clean that ear.” He smiled at the irony of the situation, and closed his eyes again. To see in his mind, beauty that could shut out the distorted landscape and the carnage that lay upon it. He felt guilty that he should be the only one to lay and make fuss over his injury, but he couldn't stand. Although his legs were fine, movement made his head spin. He guessed it was loss of blood more than anything, but he could not be sure.
[ February 19, 2003: Message edited by: Dark Shadow ]
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