I still don't own Berserk, and I'm still broke.
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Chapter two: Strange place.
The first thing he knew was birdsong. Somewhere nearby a bird was chirping, undisturbed and carefree.
Then… I must be outdoors, he thought, and his next impressions confirmed this: He felt that the ground he was laying on was soft but uneven and bumpy, and as he took a deep breath he could smell earth and moss - but he didn't get much time to marvel at the sweet feeling of air in his lungs, for it was quickly turned into agony as the pain returned.
And with the pain came the memories.
Caska! I… tried to save her… from the demons!
Red sky… red ground… faces of blood, everywhere… Pippin! Corkus! Gatts! Caska! Griffith! …No, Griffith… betrayed us. …Demons! Demons everywhere! Killing…
…They broke me… pierced right through me…
…I… I died…
…I died…
…Didn't I?
But the bird kept singing and the pain in his body could not be ignored, so he had to concede that he must still be alive. And! it suddenly occurred to him, if I am alive, then so might the others be!
He tried to fill his lungs with air so he could call for his comrades, but even the most shallow of breaths sent incredible waves of pain through his body.
Shit, I must have a couple of broken ribs…
…Heh, I shouldn't be surprised, really. That whip-monster gave me quite a treatment…OK, so shouting is out. Lets start with trying to open an eye, instead.
That worked much better; after only a short struggle he managed to crack one eye open a slit, breaking through a thin crust of his own dried blood - but he had to immediately close it again, as the sudden light drove a white-hot needle into his brain.
A couple of groans and attempts later, he could finally focus on what he was looking at, and found that he was almost face down into the ground. It took him a few moments to register that the ground was wrong.
Hey, before everything went red, weren't we on a plain? …Yes, we were, a wide plain with some shallow lakes in it. So… Why am I looking at pine needles? And where's the grass?
He tried to look up, but found that one of his long bangs obstructed his view. Man, this is annoying! All right, no pain, no gain. He took as deep a breath as he dared, and half blew, half groaned the offending hair out of the way.
When the pain subsided he opened his eye again and found that he was indeed laying on his stomach in a forest. He could see the trunks of tall, slender pines rise up - the nearest maybe two strides away from his head - and a small rise, covered in some kind of bushy vegetation, that cut his sight off further.
Where the hell am I? Did I really ride that far? Was there even a forest within sight, back there?
But then he was struck by a much more pressing thought, and he willed his broken lungs to co-operate:
"Ca… ska!" The cry was broken and weak, and the pain it caused him was nigh unbearable, but he kept trying.
"C… Caska!" Please don't let her be dead, oh god in heaven, if you can hear me, please don't let her be dead…
"Cas…Caska!" …I'd give my life for her, hell, I thought I GAVE my life for her! Don't let it be in vain, oh dear lord above, don't let it be in vain…
"Cas…ka…" he whispered, his throat thick with tears.
As he was about to give up and maybe faint from the pain, he heard a soft rustling from over the rise, and hope rose in him again. Maybe it was just an animal, but maybe it was not.
"H…Hey… Is there… any… b-body… there?"
The soft rustling stopped.
"P…please… help me…" His voice was merely a croak now, but he put all the pleading he could muster into it.
And the rustling came closer!
He strained to see what would come over the rise, but his spirits fell when he saw the curious face of a brown and black dog peek over the edge.
Just an animal… I'm finished.
The dog walked cautiously over to him and sniffed at his hand, which was laying outstretched on the ground in front of him, then whimpered softly and looked at his face.
"Nice… doggy," Judeau whispered half-heartedly, "go… get help… OK?"
The dog looked at him and tilted its head to the side as if it was listening intently, then it turned back to the way it had come and began barking.
Is it… actually…?
And a short while later, he could distinctly hear heavy footsteps through the underbrush, soon followed by a raspy but clearly masculine voice:
"What's all the noise about, Tail? What have you found?"
Judeau hardly dared to breathe, afraid that maybe he was just hallucinating and if he disturbed it, it would be gone.
I'm… saved?
The deep, raspy voice continued, sounding lightly strained as if its owner was climbing up a hill:
"Tail, I swear, if this is another injured squirrel or bird or whatever other small, imperilled animal, I'm going to…" the tirade was cut short by a gasp, because now the voice's owner was standing on the top of the rise, and he and Judeau could see each other.
The owner of the voice was a stout, big man, with skin as brown as Caska's, but obviously not from birth; his skin was the sort of brown it would turn into when you spent too long periods of time outdoors and subjected to the elements, too often.
His hair was long, thick, unruly and grey, as was the beard that almost completely covered the top of his chest. He was dressed in loose, light brown leather pants, sturdy and very well used leather boots, a vest in the same material, and a fur cloak.
His build was heavy, yet somehow wiry – at first glance he looked gnarled, like an old tree trunk – and though he looked old, there was no mistaking that he was absolutely not weak.
To Judeau, the man looked exactly like a 'wild man'; a spirit of the forest, just like in the fairy-tales he had so enjoyed as a child.
The man came jogging down towards him now, and his expression was one of worry and stress.
I'm saved!
"Good… dog," Judeau managed to croak out, before he finally fainted.
*
He awoke to horrible pain. It felt as though the whip-demon had returned and was squeezing the life out of him. All he could do was gasp breathlessly.
"I know, I know…" It was the raspy voice from before. "…you'll soon get to rest again."
Judeau vaguely felt that he was pulled up into a sitting position, and that was what was causing the incredible pain.
"Here we go…" A smooth surface was pressed to his lower lip, and he got a mouthful of something warm that he swallowed before the taste hit him. It was the most awful thing he had ever tasted! He tried to convey his dislike by grimacing and sticking his tongue out, but that only earned him another mouthful.
He tried to spit it out, but found that he couldn't: apparently the wild man was cradling his head in the crook of his arm and was using his hand to cover Judeau's nose. There was no choice but to keep swallowing the vile broth.
"Yeah, yeah, I know what it tastes like. Making faces isn't going to make you better, though," the wild man said and, even in his weakened state, Judeau had to agree that that sounded reasonable.
It seemed to take forever to finish the brew, but finally the wild man was satisfied and allowed Judeau to slip back into a laying position and pass out again.
*
He had no idea of how much time passed like that, with him passing in and out of consciousness, being forced to drink one concoction after the other, each tasting no better than the first. But finally, after a very uncertain period of time, he awoke on his own with only a dull, throbbing ache in his torso and a funny smell in his nose.
He opened his eyes and found himself staring right into the face of the brown and black dog, who immediately began licking his face, whimpering happily.
"Umpf… good dog, good dog… cut it out!" His voice still sounded weak, but he realised to his delight that it was more from disuse than from broken lungs and ribs.
He tried to lift his arm to push the dog away, but understood as soon as he made the move that the limb was not properly healed yet. A groan escaped his lips, and then the dog was pulled aside by the 'wild man'.
"I see you're awake. Good. You're making progress; now I can confidently say that you'll live."
Judeau looked down on himself and found that he was laying on his back on a straw mattress (and he couldn't help but notice that some of the straw was stained with blood), his torso covered in bandages, and so was his right arm, which was also being kept straight by two planks.
"You've saved my life," he croaked out, "I am forever grateful."
The wild man gave an annoyed grunt.
"You should be. I've never had to work so hard on one man before. You've been out for four days."
"Four days?" Judeau gasped, and then a thought struck him: "What about the others?"
The wild man frowned. "What others?"
"M… my friends… they were with me when the demons attacked… All of them can't have been killed!" His heart was beating rapidly, and he felt himself break out in a sweat. I CAN'T be the only survivor! Not me! At the very least, Gatts must have survived as well!
But the wild man sighed and a shadow of sadness passed over his features.
"I know you had friends with you, 'cause you've been calling for them in your fever-dreams… but I've been looking for them, boy. They're not here."
Judeau felt himself begin to tremble, but couldn't stop listening to the wild man.
"Also… I know that you were attacked by demons, but if I hadn't seen the nature of your wounds, I would never have believed it. Demons are very rare and often leave traces of their presence. I found no indication that there has been a demon in these woods for at least ten years." The wild man sat down on the side of Judeau's bed and gave him a serious look.
"I don't really know if you're strong enough to know this yet, but I've started talking now, and I'm not going to leave you with half the story. I'm sorry if what I have to say will cause you shock." He paused for a moment and looked away.
"You've been saying many things while the infections and fevers lasted. Many times, you've mentioned things I've never heard about. Most of it can probably be explained by the fact that I live all by myself in the middle of the forest and I can't, and don't, keep up with politics and wars, but… you've mentioned an eclipse, several times." He looked down at Judeau, clearly expecting a reply.
"Y… yes…" he managed to utter, unable to look away from the wild man and his compelling gaze, "…there was an eclipse when the demons appeared."
"And they began attacking you right away?"
Memories of the horrible slaughter filled his mind, and he felt one tear escape his eye.
"Y… yeah… right after Griffith…" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.
"I know that your leader betrayed you. You said that many times. I wouldn't forgive him either."
Somehow, he felt comforted by that. It is… okay to hate him, then.
The wild man sighed again.
"All right, here it goes… there haven't been an eclipse here for many, many years. Wherever you started out, it wasn't here. I don't think you come from this world." The man leaned back with a 'there, I said it' look on his face.
Judeau's mind hit a wall; this was too much to just accept outright.
"But… but that can't be… how could that… be possible?"
The wild man frowned.
"I know it seems impossible, but I know my heaven. If you got wounded during an eclipse, this must either have happened very far away from these woods, or a very long time ago. Either way, you would have been very, very dead before you could possibly have gotten all the way to me. This is the only solution I can think of and it also explains the lack of demon-traces, and the whereabouts of your friends: they're still in their own world."
Judeau's head was spinning now. He felt weak and about to faint.
"But… but how? …Why me?" was all he managed to croak out.
"I don't know, boy." The wild man's voice was tinted with compassion and regret. "I don't know much about demons, except the fact that they are from another place. Another world. Someone once told me that their very presence causes …rifts… in reality…" he sighed, "As strange and far-fetched as this may sound, it is the most plausible explanation: The high concentration of demon power where you were, caused a disturbance through reality that somehow brought you here. It's either that, or a god sent you here to fulfil some kind of purpose for him." The wild man shrugged. "But I can see that this is upsetting you, so just forget it for now. I'm sure your friends are all right, and you need rest. Here, drink this."
The wild man helped him to sit up and offered him a bowl, which Judeau took with a suspicious glare.
"Don't worry." The wild man said with a wolfish grin. "That's not a healing brew, so it won't taste like troll liver and old shoes. It's just a nourishing soup that will help you to sleep."
Judeau gave him an uncertain look, but took a sip from the bowl anyway - and found the taste very much to his liking. He felt that the soup was finished almost before he started it and looked disappointedly into the emptied bowl.
Almost immediately a warm, fuzzy feeling began spreading outwards from his abdomen, and he felt his worry and fear begin to fade, giving place to a comfortable tiredness.
"That'll be all for now, you'll get another bowl in the evening. We've got to be careful with your internal organs for a little while, so don't look so long-faced, boy, it's for your own good." The man carefully lowered Judeau back down onto the bed, took the bowl from his hand and stood.
"Judeau."
"Hm?"
"My name is Judeau," he murmured absently, as he looked around at the room for the first time. It was rather small, with timbered walls and a fireplace against the wall opposing his bed. There were two doors leading out of this room, and one of them had that robust look that usually meant it lead to the outdoors. The room was sparsely decorated; on one wall hung a lot of skins from different animals, and there was a sturdy wooden table next to the front door with a large variety of small bags and dried plants on it, mixed in with a few hand-carved animal figurines.
On a large fur mat in front of the fireplace laid two dogs, one of them was the brown and black one; the other was greyish-brown and looked a lot more like a wolf than the first.
"Judeau, huh?" said the wild man, as he walked off into the adjoining room. Judeau could hear him put the bowl down and begin to tinker with something. "My name is Shammael, this is my humble abode, and the two lazy bums on the floor are two of my dogs, Tail and Paw. Tail's the one who found you, if you can remember that."
The brown and black dog jumped up from his place on the floor when he heard his name and, after giving Judeau a couple of happy licks in the face, trotted after his master. The wolf-like one merely sighed and changed its position on the mat.
"Yes…" Judeau yawned, "I remember…" That pleasant warmth had completely overtaken him now, and he no longer felt worried on behalf of his comrades. They were surely all right, just as the wild… no, as Shammael had said, and so what if he was in a different world? With Griffith gone insane and Caska together with Gatts, what did he really have in that other place? The Band of the Hawk was dead, and all his friends would scatter to the winds… those of them that had survived.
Maybe just as well to begin anew…
A second chance… at life… at happiness…
Maybe it was just as well…
When Shammael returned to the main room, Judeau was already fast asleep, with a slight, peaceful smile on his lips. The old man regarded the younger one for a while, absent-mindedly running his rough hand over Tail's head and ears, eliciting happy whimpers and much squirming from the energetic dog. Finally, Shammael heaved a sigh and looked down at a small leather pouch in the palm of his hand.
"I'm sorry, boy," he mumbled. "I hope you'll understand."
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How do you like this chapter? If you have an opinion, I want it! ^_^
Thanks to Berzerkerprime, puaena and of course Drachen who reviewed and made my day brighter!
**!!!** Thanks again to White_Aster for many good points and, of course, for catching the few bugs that my spell/grammar check didn't. *bows* Thank you!
