Hi there,
here´s just a short, weird little thing that I wrote today with a killer tooth-ache to distract myself. It was inspired by prompt #24, "Dark", on the Aragorn-Angst list. The word limit was 500 words - usually not enough for me ;-)
Rating: PG 13, I guess. Some blood and disturbing images (not to mention thoughts)
Disclaimer: Not mine
Warning: Written with a tooth-ache that tempted me to rip the offending tooth out, so beware of an author in a foul mood and a very, very weird story ;-)
Belly of the Beast
He was running but he did not know where to go.
The world had vanished, leaving him cut loose, a boat tumbling across a fathom-less sea with neither captain nor aim. The ocean was darkness and void of wind or waves.
The air was silent, all sound gone to black.
Drawn on by a force he could not identify, he kept running.
X X X
His lungs burned and there was a fiery pain spiking through his right leg. It did not stop him, a phantom in this blackness, as was he.
The pain grew. He welcomed the anchor it provided, for with it some sense returned to him. The world eluded his sight but not his touch. He could tell that the ground was rough and cold beneath his feet.
His left hand was outstretched, bitten off it seemed by the darkness, but he could feel his fingertips burn where they roughly scraped along sharp-edged stone. Abruptly, the wall fell away, opening up. The air grew light for a moment before tumbling down on him in a wave of foul smells.
His senses of touch and smell fell silent, hushed by a sudden sound that scraped his ears.
Its hunger matching his own, his sword hissed from its sheath.
The air sang a warning to him when a blade descended towards his back and he swirled, dancing sideways to bring up his own sword. Warm wetness hit his face, accompanied by a satisfying gurgle.
Angry grunts now, all around him. Stench drawing closer like a noose in a hangman´s grasp. All the better.
He barely felt the pain when a club graced his shoulder just as he moved sideways and the blunt weapon harshly hit the ground with a thud. Aiming low, he allowed his sword to gently curve backwards, severing flesh and bone with barely a resistance before he swung it up again in a circle. Moans now, almost pitiful but now quite. He ignored them and kept the flow for a second sweep around.
More dull thuds, less solid then the club, then silence.
He sank to his knees, slowly, his feet no longer interested in running.
Wondering what goal he had reached, he remained silent and strove to feel past the darkness.
X X X
"Borther?"
Light appeared from within even though the darkness remained.
Elrohir looked up, his sight following the sound of his twin´s voice past the slain orcs that surrounded him like an ornament of death.
Elladan was chained to the wall, his slumped outline speaking of exhaustion but life. His presence held a glow of hope.
Elrohir could sense intense eyes on him.
"Where have you been?" Elladan´s voice was gentle but tight with worry. "I could not feel you, not even when you were a mere few paces away. You would not hear my calls."
"I was in the belly of the beast," Elrohir replied, "and it was dark there without you."
The end