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rohansonAh, Christ, that hurts!
Everything hurts.
Easing myself up a little, my body screams at me to be still, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I breathe through the pain. I take a look around, at the trees and the rocks and ... okay, so this isn't Craig's garden.
Then it comes flooding back; the bird bath, the walking tree, slamming into Theodred, the orcs, and being thrown down ... down here. Wherever here is.
Sighing, I’m beginning to wish I was a fan of the books, maybe then I would have a clue as to where I am, because I know without a doubt I’m somewhere in Middle Earth. I knew Theodred died at the Ford of Isen, but felt like if I had wanted to know more, I would just be buying into this possible delusion. Only now I know it’s real, I’m sort of wishing I’d read more.
I manage to sit up a little more, and ease closer to the tree behind me so I can rest against it. Resting for a while, one thing strikes me. I smell really bad. There’s a smell of wet horse which I can live with, but there’s an overwhelming stench of what I’m assuming is orc. I smell like the bastards that did this to him. I desperately want a shower, want to wash away the smell, and slip into clean clothes. Or maybe into a nice hospital gown, given the way my body’s feeling.
I take it slow, finding out what’s wrong with him ... me, it hurts so much when I move. Bruises and lacerations cover my whole body, partly from the fall, but I know a lot of them came from the fight at the Ford. I’m sorta glad I don’t have a mirror on me, cause I’ve got an idea my face isn’t exactly gonna be pretty. Right arm is broken in two places, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a handful of broken ribs, and no way to know if they punctured anything vital. A couple of serious cuts, one showing through a matching tear in the arm of the tunic I’m wearing and a deeper one slicing down my calf. I’m a mess, and I have no idea where to go for help.
It takes a while to make my way to the stream that I can hear running down the middle of the gully, but it’s worth it, the water tastes so good, and after I’ve drunk my fill, I use it to wash away some of the smell and clean the wounds I can reach, paying particular attention to the deeper cuts. As I’m trying to tear off the arms of the tunic I’m wearing to help bind the wound on my leg, it occurs to me that I’m not wearing any armour, and Theodred wasn’t when I dreamt of the Ford. When my dream started, he was the only one left standing, and I shudder to think they had stripped him of it and were trying to kill him for sport. The sleeves come away easily, almost ripped through already, and it hurts like hell using my injured arm to help tie up my leg, but finally it’s done, and I can drag myself off to lie in the shade.
I need to rest a while, then try and figure out where the hell I go from here. I rest my head back against the tree. I think if I hadn’t met Faramir, I would have freaked out hours ago, but knowing he exists makes this easier to handle. But how do I get home? And even if I can get back, is Wellington really my home? I’m feeling drowsy, and let myself drift into a doze. ‘s funny, when I think of home, all I can see is a pair of blue eyes ...
Everything hurts.
Easing myself up a little, my body screams at me to be still, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I breathe through the pain. I take a look around, at the trees and the rocks and ... okay, so this isn't Craig's garden.
Then it comes flooding back; the bird bath, the walking tree, slamming into Theodred, the orcs, and being thrown down ... down here. Wherever here is.
Sighing, I’m beginning to wish I was a fan of the books, maybe then I would have a clue as to where I am, because I know without a doubt I’m somewhere in Middle Earth. I knew Theodred died at the Ford of Isen, but felt like if I had wanted to know more, I would just be buying into this possible delusion. Only now I know it’s real, I’m sort of wishing I’d read more.
I manage to sit up a little more, and ease closer to the tree behind me so I can rest against it. Resting for a while, one thing strikes me. I smell really bad. There’s a smell of wet horse which I can live with, but there’s an overwhelming stench of what I’m assuming is orc. I smell like the bastards that did this to him. I desperately want a shower, want to wash away the smell, and slip into clean clothes. Or maybe into a nice hospital gown, given the way my body’s feeling.
I take it slow, finding out what’s wrong with him ... me, it hurts so much when I move. Bruises and lacerations cover my whole body, partly from the fall, but I know a lot of them came from the fight at the Ford. I’m sorta glad I don’t have a mirror on me, cause I’ve got an idea my face isn’t exactly gonna be pretty. Right arm is broken in two places, and I’m pretty sure I’ve got a handful of broken ribs, and no way to know if they punctured anything vital. A couple of serious cuts, one showing through a matching tear in the arm of the tunic I’m wearing and a deeper one slicing down my calf. I’m a mess, and I have no idea where to go for help.
It takes a while to make my way to the stream that I can hear running down the middle of the gully, but it’s worth it, the water tastes so good, and after I’ve drunk my fill, I use it to wash away some of the smell and clean the wounds I can reach, paying particular attention to the deeper cuts. As I’m trying to tear off the arms of the tunic I’m wearing to help bind the wound on my leg, it occurs to me that I’m not wearing any armour, and Theodred wasn’t when I dreamt of the Ford. When my dream started, he was the only one left standing, and I shudder to think they had stripped him of it and were trying to kill him for sport. The sleeves come away easily, almost ripped through already, and it hurts like hell using my injured arm to help tie up my leg, but finally it’s done, and I can drag myself off to lie in the shade.
I need to rest a while, then try and figure out where the hell I go from here. I rest my head back against the tree. I think if I hadn’t met Faramir, I would have freaked out hours ago, but knowing he exists makes this easier to handle. But how do I get home? And even if I can get back, is Wellington really my home? I’m feeling drowsy, and let myself drift into a doze. ‘s funny, when I think of home, all I can see is a pair of blue eyes ...
