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Mareth_Ravenlock |
on: December 08, 2014 03:05
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This is a joint post between myself and Nif.
Rovan was quite unable to close his eyes, with his wound throbbing the way it did, so he offered to take the first watch - and the others seemed quite happy to be allowed to rest and mend their wounds and set their worried minds at ease during sleep.
So he was left alone, sitting by the fire, with the others gradually disappearing in the dream world of their own. He kept the fire going, feeding it one small stick at the time, in order to keep it as small as possible, and got lost in his own thoughts.
The last battle - it could have gone so terribly wrong, if the Wildlings hadn’t turned and run. All of them would have been dead if those had been orcs instead. He gritted his teeth at the very thought. Those hated orcs…
Nym opened her eyes and looked up at the night sky. It took her a moment to get her bearings after being asleep for so long. She tried to sit up, but found she was too weak to do so. She lay quietly instead, alone with her thoughts.
She had come so close to death. If Eadwine had not seen her in trouble and come to her aid, she would be lying, still and lifeless in the pass they had left behind. She shuddered inwardly at the thought. But Eadwine hadn’t been too late, and she was safe.
Nym couldn’t help feeling a bit of grim satisfaction knowing that Eadwine had cut down the Wildman that nearly ended her life. However, this small sense of satisfaction quickly faded as she thought about the loss of life. She had never taken the life of another human being before today. She shut her eyes as the horrors of the battle washed over her once more. So much death. So much blood. Her head swam….
She forced her eyes open, and tried to focus on something, anything but the battle. She turned her head and spotted Rovan, sitting alone by the fire. She decided to think about him to take her mind off the battle.
They knew almost nothing about the man who was sitting before the fire, absently stirring the coals. She could hardly believe that it had only been two days since she had found him, half dead, dragging from his horse. She wondered what he had been doing in order to be wounded by an orc. She wondered what his life had been like, and who he really was.
She only realized that she had been staring when she found herself looking into his dark grey eyes. She glanced away quickly, pretending to be absorbed in the glowing embers at Rovan’s feet, rather than contemplating the secrets of his past.
Rovan’s track of thoughts was interrupted when he noticed Nymira staring at him. For a moment, he was captivated by her stare, and only snapped out of it when she looked away.
“You’re awake. That’s good,” he said. “Do you need anything? Water perhaps?”
Nym started slightly at the unexpected sound of Rovan’s voice. Now that he mentioned water, she realized that she was terribly thirsty. “Some water would be nice,” she managed to say.
Rovan reached for a flask of water. Getting up turned out to be a greater challenge than he had thought, his wound throbbing like hell. With a grunt, he got on his feet and came over to the other side of the fire where Nymira lay. He realized that bending over to hand her the flask was a no-go, so he sat down on the ground next to her instead. Rovan handed the girl her water, and remained sitting where he was. The option of getting up again to go back to where he had been, was not inspiring, to say the least, so he figured he could just as well stay where he was.
“Are you feeling better?” he asked when she closed the flask.
Nym leaned back against a rock. The effort of sitting to drink the water had taken a lot of her energy. “Somewhat.” she replied. She sighed. “My arm feels somewhat better, anyway.” Visions of the battle sprang to her mind once more, and she gave an involuntary shudder. “Are you alright? I hope you weren’t wounded further.” she said, her voice filled with concern.
“I was not,” Rovan shook his head. “It is just the injury on my side. It came open during the fighting, that’s all,” he put an effort into sounding as casual as possible about that. The girl did not need to worry about anything apart from her own healing process.
Rovan looked at her closer. The dim and flickering light the fire was casting did a very bad job illuminating Nymira, but here, right next to her, even in light as bad as this one he thought he saw a healthier color returning to her face.
“Was this you first combat? Your first injury?” he asked.
Nym was relieved that Rovan had not suffered further injury. She was a caring soul, and she hated to see people suffer.
“Yes, it was my first combat. And my first major injury. I’ve been hurt before in minor accidents, but never this severely.” She did not speak for several moments. Then she said, “I’ve never had to kill a human before.” She looked up at Rovan’s face, lined with years of anger. A single tear trickled down her cheek, and she looked down. “I hope I never have to do so again.” The silence stretched, so she felt obliged to break it once more. “Why?” she asked softly, the tears flowing down her face, now unheeded. “Why must we kill? Why can we not live at peace with our fellow men?” She pulled her knees up to her chest with her good arm and laid her head on them, sobbing quietly.
She cried for the death and destruction she had witnessed earlier that day. She cried for the wound her father had received that had robbed him of his mobility. She cried for all the widows and orphans who would never see their loved ones again. She cried until she had no tears left. Then she simply sat, shaking uncontrollably, hugging herself with her unhurt left arm.
If Rovan could have jumped up and left running - making up any excuse that would jump into his mind - he would have, without a second thought. He considered saying he had to look for more wood, or check something on the other side…
However, the pain in his side was making him so clumsy that this kind of escape would be too embarrassing.
The girl’s sobs were loud in the quiet night, and Rovan shifted uncomfortably. What in Middle-earth was he supposed to do about this?! Should he comfort her in some way, or… Was he expecting him to…
Cursing under his breath, Rovan made a move to put his hand on her shoulder, but changed his mind at the last moment and let his arm drop. He cleared his throat.
This had been her first battle, her first injury, her first kill, he thought. That must have been quite a lot to process. No wonder she was so… so…
This had him thinking back to the time he had looked down on his first kill.
“The battle was still raging on. Men were yelling, roaring, screaming and moaning all around me - and all I could do was stand still as a tree and stare down on the lifeless body of the man I had just…” Rovan heard himself talking before he realized his mouth was moving. “In the back of my mind, I knew I had to snap out of it, or somebody would take a swing with his blade - and I would join my dead opponent. But for all the common sense in the world, I could not will myself to move…” his voice died to a whisper, as he got lost in his memory.
Nym tried to will herself to stop her shaking, but to no avail.
She lifted her head as she heard Rovan speak. At first, her brain still muddled by thoughts of her own battle, she didn’t understand what he was saying. Then she realized that he must be talking about the first time he killed a man. There was a haunted look on his face as the memory came back. When he stopped speaking, there was silence between them. Once Nym felt she could speak again, she said, her voice barely audible in her own ears, “I am sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say. She was experiencing the traumatising aftereffects of war for the first time. She didn’t know where to turn for comfort, let alone how to comfort another.
“For what?” he looked at her. “Life’s just the way it is. All one can do is learn to deal with it. Either they do, or… it kills them.”
The expression on Nymira’s face became so haunted Rovan wanted to slap himself. This most definitely wasn’t what one who was just through their first battle needed to hear.
“You’re going to be all right,” he said quietly, “you’re strong enough. Don’t doubt yourself.”
Nym looked into Rovan’s eyes and saw the sincerity there. Even if he pretended that his past did not hurt him, she knew it still had to. The mental wounds never healed completely; they simply turn into a scar, and you learn to live with the scar. Just like her father had. She straightened. “Thank you,” she said simply.
Iorveth rose from where he had been sleeping, startling the pair. The elf offered to relieve Rovan from the watch, and the young man accepted, suddenly feeling very tired. He rose with some effort and walked to his bedroll, bidding Nym and the elf good-night. The girl replied in kind, then lay down. She closed her eyes, but sleep was long in coming.
~Llama Warrior of Nessa~
Sometimes, I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast. - Lewis Carrol
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Mellwen_Bronwewen |
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Eruwestiel_Evensong |
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Nifredil |
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Mareth_Ravenlock |
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findemaxam48 |
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Nifredil |
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Eruwestiel_Evensong |
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