I barely feel any pain, more a strange numbness, as I look down at the tip of the blade protruding from my chest. Like in a dream, I both see and feel the goblin withdrawing the sword again, pulling me one step back as it slips from my body – impossibly slow it seems. I can see the orc across me grin, our blades sliding apart with a soft, metallic sound as I am pulled backwards. I can feel my blood running down my chest and back, wetting my tunic. I know my surprise is edged on my face, and I can hear every throb of my heart, so agonizing slow, each seeming to last seconds.
As if moving through water, I fall to a knee, my legs refusing to support me.
It was so close, only a handful of orcs left against us, and not a single one had gained more than a single cut. How could the goblin have escaped my attention?
The orc before me is still grinning as it painstakingly slow raises the axe, preparing to finish me off. I spot a silver-streaked lighting slamming into the side of its head, and the axe is the first to fall – dropping toward the ground surprisingly unhurried, almost gracefully. Then follows the now head-less orc's body, landing in an ungraceful heap on top of the weapon.
And then the pain comes – as I attempt to draw air into my lungs, I realise – and I crumble to the ground, clutching my wound, suddenly knowing I have to stop the blood, gasping in pain.
I then hear the whirl of Aegis-Fang passing over my head and, judging from the soft thud, brings the goblin into the next world. And then, the world suddenly moving at normal speed, I feel Catti-brie grabbing around me, her hands pressing into the wounds, stemming the blood flow. I hear her voice, begging me, threatening me, to stay with her, to not give up now. I cannot reply, breathing already saps all my strength.
And then Bruenor grabs around my shoulders, shaking me slightly, telling me to hold on, to open my eyes, to show that I am still alive. I am surprised by the amount of strength it takes, but I comply, forcing my eyelids back, looking into my dwarven friend's. And as I see him pale, I know suddenly that he has seen Death in mine, that I have no hope left…
I shut my eyes again, suddenly feeling so awfully tired. I can feel Catti-brie's cheek, wet with tears, press against mine, and I can hear her sobs. It takes all my willpower, but somehow I manage to close a hand around hers, giving it a comforting squeeze. There will be no pain, I wish I could tell you, that I will just fall asleep. Only difference will be that I won't wake up again, but it will be the same… But my tongue will not do my mind's bidding, and even if it would, I doubt I can muster the strength to form any words. So much I suddenly wish I had told you before, so much I wish I had done, so many places I wish I had visited…
The pain is dulling – I can barely feel it now, thought I have same trouble breathing, I can sense, as if my lungs have lost the ability to expand, to contain the air. Will this be the way I am supposed to die? By the hands of a mere goblin, and slowly be suffocated to death? In all my life, I had thought I would die in some grand battle against a demon, fighting for the safety of my friends. How ironic it should be in a mere ambush that I fall…
I can feel Bruenor grab my hand now, along with Catti-brie. They have abandoned trying to contain the blood, knowing that there is no hope… Wulfgar's hand lands on my shoulder, its weight clearly marking it from the others'. I can feel myself being gently moved, placed into a more comfortable position, my head resting in Catti-brie's lap as she runs her fingers through my hair in a strangely soothing way, and I realise you all are trying to smooth my passage into the next world.
Another hand joins the others, coming to rest on the wrist of the hand Bruenor holds. Regis… I can hear you talk, little friend, but you are so distant, as if you are talking to me from the other end of a tunnel…
And Guenhwyvar… Dear, dear Guenhwyvar. You sit at my feet, I sense, and I cannot help but to wonder how many masters you have seen thusly, on the brink of death, of how many you have seen being buried, before you were passed on to the next one. But I know that you are safe, that my friends will see you are brought to fair masters.
How clearly I can sense Mielikki's presence, as if she, too, is waiting for my soul to give up its stubborn hold on this world, yet not waiting for me to leave this world, but to take me home when I let go… And suddenly, I know that I once again will see the oldest of my friends – Montolio, Zaknafein, Killindil – the first elf would could look beyond the colour of my skin, the first who saw me as a potential friend despite my race, and one who gave me a gift I did not know enough about to be grateful for until years later…
Oh, dearest of friends, how I wish I could muster the strength to tell you, to explain that my death should not be mourned, but that we, that the Companions of the Hall, soon will be together again…
The whole world seems strangely distant, so far away, as if I am floating high above it. And I feel so tired… Sleep.. Just lay down.. And fall… a…. sleep……..