Disclaimer: The Mummy Returns, its concepts and the character of Ardeth Bey belong to Universal Studios, and especially Stephen Sommers. This is not meant to infringe on their copyright in any way, and no profit is intended, or will be made.
Title: Honour the Vow: Battle Aftermath 1/2
By Bellemaine Chercoeur
Email: bellemainec@yahoo.com
Rating: PG (Some violence)
Ficdom: Mummy Returns
Author's Notes: This fic introduces a new character to the canon, and deals with the back-story of Ardeth Bey. It continues on from the first part Battle. Thanks for the comments I have received, it makes me think that I am doing something right! Let me know what you think of this one :)
Days can seem interminable out here in the desert. Blinding sun beating without mercy upon the golden sands. Your eyes have no rest, no comfort can be sort in the dunes. I sometimes wonder whether that simple fact is why my people where black. Although white would lift some of the heat away from us, it would also merely be another source of dazzlement out there, another place to blind us all. At least the black allows us the opportunity to fix our gaze on something, to look at something without the glare sending wave of pain through your mind.
The sun has finally set, and the camp is growing quiet. We are still attending to the wounded, and our dead are being gathered. I have seen Ardeth briefly, but I have avoided him. He is not expecting to see me here. No doubt he assumes that I have run from him, fled his presence. I am safer here, with our people in this camp, then I would be anywhere else for he will not think to look for me here.
I have exchanged my robes for my usual dress, and hidden my face beneath the congealing scarf. The Elders may forbid us the battle, but they will not deny us the right to tend to the injured. So I have returned to our camp and have found anonymity within the tents, here I am merely a dutiful daughter of our people, tending the wounded and the survivors.
I will wait for Ardeth leaves before making my own escape. He is angry with me, and sometimes I think he will understand, and then I remember the teachings, the laws, the traditions and I think he will not. The Ardeth I remember would listen to me, would ask why I was there. I know he has changed, I know the waking of He who will not be named ten years ago altered how he sees things, how he reacts to people. I pray that I can make him understand. I know that I must.
There were so many wounded. Out there, on the battlefield, it seemed quite clear. Either you were dead, or you were alive. If you were dead, you were gone, but if you were alive, you had to realise that any moment you could make the transition to dead if you did not guard against it with every breath. It was only afterwards, after the cheering died down, and the celebratory exchanges had drifted away that the cost of our campaign against the darkness became clearer. Men fell to their knees, to exhausted to continue further, others discovered wounds that they had ignored, gashes, broken bones, damaged limbs. Bodies of the injured were found among the dead, some unconscious, some near death, others trapped beneath fallen horses or the bodies of their fallen comrades. It took hours to transport them here, hours to dress wounds, to comfort and hold back tears as they passed on, to give encouragement and warmth to those alert enough to be cheered, to give promises and take messages from those who will not last the night. I do not know which event I found more hateful, the battle or the aftermath.
I feel as if I have aged ten years. I feel exhaustion settling into my bones, but can not find the strength to seek a bedroll. The questions that would be attached, from inquisitive wives and relatives would overwhelm me, and I find myself too tired to think of a tale that would satisfy them. Better to stay here, in the dimly lit supply tent then face those questions. I can remain here, rolling bandages and quietly sorting through the remaining medical supplies. They will be needed in the morning, and there is room for me to curl up in the corner, even spare blankets to ward of the chill in the night air.
As I place the last of the bandages in the woven basket beside me, I sense the dividing curtain of the tent shift as someone enters. Careful to keep my own face in shadow, I turn towards them, to find Ardeth before me. It almost makes some kind of twisted sense that he would find me here. I had thought myself so clever; perhaps I had merely hastened our meeting. I braced myself for discovery as he bowed slightly towards me.
**
So many dead. So many of our people gone forever. Although we all know our possible fate when we take the oaths of the Med-jai, the reality of battle is harsher than the possibility. The injured and the dead lay together, and it has taken us hours to transport them back to the camp, to be tended and healed. They defer to me, they seek me out for orders, for decisions, for guidance. I had thought that any ruling authority I had been granted would be over at the end of battle, but it seems that our people are happy for me to oversee the battle aftermath until we report to the Elders.
So many wounded. I walk silently between them, seeking the supply tent. I find it hidden at the back of the largest tent of wounded, a covered lamp dimly beckoning me forward. Careful not to disturb those resting around me, I pulled back the curtain and stepped inside.
A woman started and hurriedly leapt to her feet. The lamplight showed the basket of rolled bandages at her side, but cast shadows across her face. I bowed, and said, "Forgive the intrusion. I did not wish to disturb those already resting."
She nodded, and quietly said, "There are so many. Yet at least the injured outnumber the dead." Her voice was low and soothing, and somehow reminded me of why it was so important to take our stand out there today.
"Yes. We survived." The simple statement seemed to hover in the air momentarily, as if its importance warranted an almost tangible presence. "We defeated the darkness. For now." I fell quiet for a moment, not sure what else to say. I saw her fiddle with the hem of her headscarf and realised she must be exhausted and waiting for me to leave. I bowed once more and said, "My apologies, I did not mean to keep you. Sleep well." I turned and started to leave.
**
He head not realised it was me! Ardeth turned and walked away, and the quick rush of joy that I had not been discovered was suddenly overtaken by my sudden certainty that something was amiss. He would not have been seeking the medical supplies unless there was something wrong. Pitching my voice lower than usual I called after him, "A moment, sir!"
He turned and moved back towards me, conscious as ever of the wounded men resting outside.
From my vantagepoint, I quickly scanned his face and could see no obvious sign of injury. Wait, yes, just there. He was slightly favouring his left shoulder, holding it tense as if he was expecting pain to be the result of any movement. "You are hurt."
He paused, his spine stiffening. I gestured towards his shoulder, and said, "Your shoulder. I know you are injured. Allow me to attend to it." I gestured towards the stacks of bandages and ointments beside me.
He gazed at me for a long moment, and I was almost certain that he would refuse my help, would claim to be uninjured. Then the thought struck me that he had recognised me, and I held my breath, wishing I had simply held my tongue just moments earlier.
At last, he said cool, "Very well." He sat in the chair I had recently vacated and removed his covering robe. Suddenly, realising that was not all he was going to be removing, I averted my eyes and pretended interest in the lamp shifting it slightly so more light would fall across his shoulder. In my concern for his injury, I had overlooked the necessity of baring the injury. I thanked Allah for the dim light and scarf that would hide my burning cheeks and shaking hands. I was not a child, I told myself sternly, and had seen injured men before, but this was the first time I had been called upon to touch the bare skin of a fully alert one. The other women had realised I was not a wife, had seen me as a dutiful daughter and made sure that I was kept from the men who were ... awake..enough to realise they were being tended by an unmarried girl.
I turned back towards Ardeth and found that he had retained his shirt and was busily engaged with cutting the shirt away from the wound. I barely managed to suppress an exclamation of sympathetic pain as I looked at the slash that marred his arm. "This should have been tended to hours ago. I must wash the wound clean, Ardeth, before I bandage it. It will hurt, but if we leave it, it will become worse, and you may lost the arm."
Satisfied I had shown him the gravity of the situation, I picked up a small bowl of clean water and gently began to sponge his shoulder. I heard the quick hiss of an intaken breath and paused before handing him a small wooden rod. "Bite down on this." He took it silently, and placed it between his teeth as I returned to the wound.
Finally satisfied that I had removed all trace of blood and sand from the wound, I carefully smoothed an ointment over the wound. His skin was warm and smooth beneath my fingertips, and to distract myself I said, "The ointment will sting, but will ensure that the wound heals quickly. It will prevent infection." I reached into the basket then slowly wound a bandage around his arm and shoulder, trying to ensure that he retained enough movement of the shoulder. "Keep away from water. Pray there is not a next time, but if there is, look for us much sooner."
He nodded, and I saw a small smile of amusement curve his lips at my gentle rebuke. He stood and said, "I also will pray there is not a next time. I thank you for your help, fair lady. May I escort you back to your tent? It has grown quite late."
As I frantically tried to think of an excuse to stay, he took my hand and gently squeezed it as a token of thanks. I was unable to stop the instinctive gasp of pain that followed his action. He had taken my right hand, which was sore and callused from the weight of the sword. Although I had rebuked him about tending to his wounds, I had yet to tend to my own, having hurriedly washed and bandaged it when I arrived at the camp. His eyes narrowed and he easily seized my wrist as I jumped away from him. He forcefully sat me in the chair, then knelt beside me, as he turned my hand toward the light.
He ignored my attempts to pull myself from his grasp, and stared at the bandage wound haphazardly around my hand and wrist for a moment. His voice was calm as he said, "Nefertiri."
His gaze lifted and I realised that not even the scarf would be enough to fool him. Reaching up he pulled the scarf from my hair, leaving only the diaphanous veil over the lower half of my face. He then placed his hand on the opposing arm of my chair, effectively trapping me. His tone harsh and unyielding, he said, "Do you not have some explanation for me, you foolish child?"
End Part 1/2
Title: Honour the Vow: Battle Aftermath 1/2
By Bellemaine Chercoeur
Email: bellemainec@yahoo.com
Rating: PG (Some violence)
Ficdom: Mummy Returns
Author's Notes: This fic introduces a new character to the canon, and deals with the back-story of Ardeth Bey. It continues on from the first part Battle. Thanks for the comments I have received, it makes me think that I am doing something right! Let me know what you think of this one :)
Days can seem interminable out here in the desert. Blinding sun beating without mercy upon the golden sands. Your eyes have no rest, no comfort can be sort in the dunes. I sometimes wonder whether that simple fact is why my people where black. Although white would lift some of the heat away from us, it would also merely be another source of dazzlement out there, another place to blind us all. At least the black allows us the opportunity to fix our gaze on something, to look at something without the glare sending wave of pain through your mind.
The sun has finally set, and the camp is growing quiet. We are still attending to the wounded, and our dead are being gathered. I have seen Ardeth briefly, but I have avoided him. He is not expecting to see me here. No doubt he assumes that I have run from him, fled his presence. I am safer here, with our people in this camp, then I would be anywhere else for he will not think to look for me here.
I have exchanged my robes for my usual dress, and hidden my face beneath the congealing scarf. The Elders may forbid us the battle, but they will not deny us the right to tend to the injured. So I have returned to our camp and have found anonymity within the tents, here I am merely a dutiful daughter of our people, tending the wounded and the survivors.
I will wait for Ardeth leaves before making my own escape. He is angry with me, and sometimes I think he will understand, and then I remember the teachings, the laws, the traditions and I think he will not. The Ardeth I remember would listen to me, would ask why I was there. I know he has changed, I know the waking of He who will not be named ten years ago altered how he sees things, how he reacts to people. I pray that I can make him understand. I know that I must.
There were so many wounded. Out there, on the battlefield, it seemed quite clear. Either you were dead, or you were alive. If you were dead, you were gone, but if you were alive, you had to realise that any moment you could make the transition to dead if you did not guard against it with every breath. It was only afterwards, after the cheering died down, and the celebratory exchanges had drifted away that the cost of our campaign against the darkness became clearer. Men fell to their knees, to exhausted to continue further, others discovered wounds that they had ignored, gashes, broken bones, damaged limbs. Bodies of the injured were found among the dead, some unconscious, some near death, others trapped beneath fallen horses or the bodies of their fallen comrades. It took hours to transport them here, hours to dress wounds, to comfort and hold back tears as they passed on, to give encouragement and warmth to those alert enough to be cheered, to give promises and take messages from those who will not last the night. I do not know which event I found more hateful, the battle or the aftermath.
I feel as if I have aged ten years. I feel exhaustion settling into my bones, but can not find the strength to seek a bedroll. The questions that would be attached, from inquisitive wives and relatives would overwhelm me, and I find myself too tired to think of a tale that would satisfy them. Better to stay here, in the dimly lit supply tent then face those questions. I can remain here, rolling bandages and quietly sorting through the remaining medical supplies. They will be needed in the morning, and there is room for me to curl up in the corner, even spare blankets to ward of the chill in the night air.
As I place the last of the bandages in the woven basket beside me, I sense the dividing curtain of the tent shift as someone enters. Careful to keep my own face in shadow, I turn towards them, to find Ardeth before me. It almost makes some kind of twisted sense that he would find me here. I had thought myself so clever; perhaps I had merely hastened our meeting. I braced myself for discovery as he bowed slightly towards me.
**
So many dead. So many of our people gone forever. Although we all know our possible fate when we take the oaths of the Med-jai, the reality of battle is harsher than the possibility. The injured and the dead lay together, and it has taken us hours to transport them back to the camp, to be tended and healed. They defer to me, they seek me out for orders, for decisions, for guidance. I had thought that any ruling authority I had been granted would be over at the end of battle, but it seems that our people are happy for me to oversee the battle aftermath until we report to the Elders.
So many wounded. I walk silently between them, seeking the supply tent. I find it hidden at the back of the largest tent of wounded, a covered lamp dimly beckoning me forward. Careful not to disturb those resting around me, I pulled back the curtain and stepped inside.
A woman started and hurriedly leapt to her feet. The lamplight showed the basket of rolled bandages at her side, but cast shadows across her face. I bowed, and said, "Forgive the intrusion. I did not wish to disturb those already resting."
She nodded, and quietly said, "There are so many. Yet at least the injured outnumber the dead." Her voice was low and soothing, and somehow reminded me of why it was so important to take our stand out there today.
"Yes. We survived." The simple statement seemed to hover in the air momentarily, as if its importance warranted an almost tangible presence. "We defeated the darkness. For now." I fell quiet for a moment, not sure what else to say. I saw her fiddle with the hem of her headscarf and realised she must be exhausted and waiting for me to leave. I bowed once more and said, "My apologies, I did not mean to keep you. Sleep well." I turned and started to leave.
**
He head not realised it was me! Ardeth turned and walked away, and the quick rush of joy that I had not been discovered was suddenly overtaken by my sudden certainty that something was amiss. He would not have been seeking the medical supplies unless there was something wrong. Pitching my voice lower than usual I called after him, "A moment, sir!"
He turned and moved back towards me, conscious as ever of the wounded men resting outside.
From my vantagepoint, I quickly scanned his face and could see no obvious sign of injury. Wait, yes, just there. He was slightly favouring his left shoulder, holding it tense as if he was expecting pain to be the result of any movement. "You are hurt."
He paused, his spine stiffening. I gestured towards his shoulder, and said, "Your shoulder. I know you are injured. Allow me to attend to it." I gestured towards the stacks of bandages and ointments beside me.
He gazed at me for a long moment, and I was almost certain that he would refuse my help, would claim to be uninjured. Then the thought struck me that he had recognised me, and I held my breath, wishing I had simply held my tongue just moments earlier.
At last, he said cool, "Very well." He sat in the chair I had recently vacated and removed his covering robe. Suddenly, realising that was not all he was going to be removing, I averted my eyes and pretended interest in the lamp shifting it slightly so more light would fall across his shoulder. In my concern for his injury, I had overlooked the necessity of baring the injury. I thanked Allah for the dim light and scarf that would hide my burning cheeks and shaking hands. I was not a child, I told myself sternly, and had seen injured men before, but this was the first time I had been called upon to touch the bare skin of a fully alert one. The other women had realised I was not a wife, had seen me as a dutiful daughter and made sure that I was kept from the men who were ... awake..enough to realise they were being tended by an unmarried girl.
I turned back towards Ardeth and found that he had retained his shirt and was busily engaged with cutting the shirt away from the wound. I barely managed to suppress an exclamation of sympathetic pain as I looked at the slash that marred his arm. "This should have been tended to hours ago. I must wash the wound clean, Ardeth, before I bandage it. It will hurt, but if we leave it, it will become worse, and you may lost the arm."
Satisfied I had shown him the gravity of the situation, I picked up a small bowl of clean water and gently began to sponge his shoulder. I heard the quick hiss of an intaken breath and paused before handing him a small wooden rod. "Bite down on this." He took it silently, and placed it between his teeth as I returned to the wound.
Finally satisfied that I had removed all trace of blood and sand from the wound, I carefully smoothed an ointment over the wound. His skin was warm and smooth beneath my fingertips, and to distract myself I said, "The ointment will sting, but will ensure that the wound heals quickly. It will prevent infection." I reached into the basket then slowly wound a bandage around his arm and shoulder, trying to ensure that he retained enough movement of the shoulder. "Keep away from water. Pray there is not a next time, but if there is, look for us much sooner."
He nodded, and I saw a small smile of amusement curve his lips at my gentle rebuke. He stood and said, "I also will pray there is not a next time. I thank you for your help, fair lady. May I escort you back to your tent? It has grown quite late."
As I frantically tried to think of an excuse to stay, he took my hand and gently squeezed it as a token of thanks. I was unable to stop the instinctive gasp of pain that followed his action. He had taken my right hand, which was sore and callused from the weight of the sword. Although I had rebuked him about tending to his wounds, I had yet to tend to my own, having hurriedly washed and bandaged it when I arrived at the camp. His eyes narrowed and he easily seized my wrist as I jumped away from him. He forcefully sat me in the chair, then knelt beside me, as he turned my hand toward the light.
He ignored my attempts to pull myself from his grasp, and stared at the bandage wound haphazardly around my hand and wrist for a moment. His voice was calm as he said, "Nefertiri."
His gaze lifted and I realised that not even the scarf would be enough to fool him. Reaching up he pulled the scarf from my hair, leaving only the diaphanous veil over the lower half of my face. He then placed his hand on the opposing arm of my chair, effectively trapping me. His tone harsh and unyielding, he said, "Do you not have some explanation for me, you foolish child?"
End Part 1/2