[Disclaimer: Still don't own Tolkien, just my OCs. Once again, thank you to Ro for input. :) ]
Crickets were beginning to chirp, their chorus ringing clear through the cool night air. A breeze drifted through the trees, but otherwise it was quiet.
It was a drastic change from just two days prior, when orcs roamed these very trails. Their foul presence was enough to poison the very air. Now, though, the woods were returning to normal. Just barely visible in the darkness, the slender and fleeting forms of deer passed along the path that had so recently been milling with yrch.
The calm night had a soothing effect on Arthon's mind, if nothing else.
He could not move, he could barely breathe, and yet he was glad for at least the chance to hear this.
It was not often that the Ranger's travels took him so far east. The roads were becoming more and more dangerous as of late. Aragorn himself had been abroad easterly, lately. He was searching for a strange creature called Gollum, accompanied often by the wizard Gandalf. Arthon did not know much of this, but he had heard the other Rangers speaking of it. Evil was at work in the far east, that much they all knew.
Arthon's journey back towards home came to a halt when he came upon the group of orcs. He had not known what mischief they were up to, but some purpose was guiding them westward down one of the numerous valleys of the mountains. It had been his own unfortunate mistake that had led him to confront the entire group, with no help at all. He did the best that he could in the given circumstances, folly or no. In the end, he emerged the victor, but at terrible cost.
The battered and bloody Ranger managed to wedge himself in the space between two boulders, where he had hoped to have some shelter, in case any orcs returned, but he could move no further than that. He knew that he was dying, and that there was little he could do for it now. In fact, all he truly wanted to do was to sleep, despite the fact that some part of him was resisting it.
He closed his eyes. It would all be over soon.
I am sorry Father. Mother...
Taurwen...Aradol...
He could see their faces as clear as if they were standing in front of him now. Archall's proud look, Calaneth's warm smile, his brother's adoring expression, and his sister's happy laugh, just as they had been when he had seen them last. He would miss them.
"Arthon."
That was...Halbarad. Yes, the Rangers…he hoped that he had not failed them. He could almost feel Aragorn's serene stare, which had always made him feel so young and foolish. They were wise, learned men, the Rangers, and Arthon still did not feel as if he quite belonged in their presence. He was a mere child, while they were lords. They were lords in the guise of cloaked men in the wild, but lords nonetheless.
He seemed to be to them as Aradol was to him. The young and inexperienced boy who wished very much to prove himself to those he admired so.
Perhaps he had accomplished that. He hoped that he had.
"Arthon, open your eyes and look at me."
What?
Dazed and confused, Arthon attempted to obey the command out of habit. Even though his eyes were open, it did little to abate the darkness. Everything was dark, so much so that he could not see the figure looming over him. Nor did he even feel the rough but gentle hand that touched his forehead.
"Stay with me, Arthon, my lad. I am here, and I will not let you die."
