Disclaimer: I don't own The Lord of the Rings, if I did I'd be a lot richer and that new series wouldn't have been made, these fantastic stories and worlds are owned by the Tolkien estate and New Line Cinema respectively.
Authors note: Hello everyone I thought before we got started I'd explain something, most of this chapter is written from the third person, this is as when I was originally writing this chapter, I did write from the MC's POV but I started drawing too much on real experiences I have had with injuries and it was beginning to put me in a rather dark place, before anyone thinks I'm just being a baby I was specifically drawing on the incident where I broke nine bones in a single day, that stuff hurts.
On another note if you're particularly squeamish I apologise for what you're about to read, whilst I didn't go into too much detail (I think?) facial injuries are nasty.
On a final note, the spacing for the first third of this chapter is weird I know, I'm not quite sure why, but I wasn't going to delete and re-wright a thousand words for something so relatively minor, that would have been soul destroying.
Now on a more cheerful note, review response time!
JannerWingfeather: Hah, I look forwards to hearing your thoughts!
ArchAngel319: Well I'm glad you like it! Don't worry I'm not planning on stopping, as I hope this chapter proves!
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Chapter 8 Lessons learned.
Gandalf heard the screams long before he saw what had caused them, young Marcus backing away from an orc, his blade held out one-handed, desperately fending off the orcs attacks whilst clutching his left hand to his face, blood welling from between his plate clad fingers in great rivulets, he cut down a few of the goblins who charged him, clearly seeing his sudden weakness and trying to take advantage of it, but it was obvious that the boy was not going to be able to hold them long, stumbling and halting as he was.
Glaring around the Istari knew he'd never make it to the young Numenorean in time if he fought as a man, the distance was too great and the number of goblins far too many.
And so he began to draw on the power that was always there, more a part of him than breathing was, he drew on the same strength and will he'd used when he'd helped sing the world into existence, the shadows around him appearing to twitch and distort, the trees groaning and trying to lean away from him as the air grew oppressive with the weight of his power, a few of the goblins seemed to notice as well, their eyes growing wide as they instinctively froze like deer when sensing a predator.
With a silent whoomph he released his power in a great rolling wave, quite literally blasting the goblins away in a wave of white power that didn't disturb the trees or Marcus, just the creatures touched by the darkness of the enemy.
There were a number of wet cracks as their bodies struck the trees at speed, those that weren't killed outright running screaming into the forest, the orc that had wounded the young Numenorean being one of the ones not to rise as it had struck a tree helmeted head first.
Running to the boys side he took his hand and spoke. "Here, let me see." He said as gently as he could, taking Marcus's armoured hand and pulling the blood-soaked thing away from his face, only to suck a deep breath through his teeth when he saw the damage.
It started just below his hairline, a deep diagonal slash, the bone visible, continuing down it split his left brow in twain and then reached his eye…it was a ruin, blood pouring from a gaping slash in the middle of his eye, nearly cutting it in half, before continuing down his cheek, bisecting his mouth and chin before leaving a deep scar down his breast plate, the armour having done its job and protected him from anything more than bruises.
The boy let out a dry, cynical chuckle before doing his best to spit a globule of blood from his ruined mouth. "Judging by your reaction I'm not going to be anywhere near as pretty as I was?" He asked, trying to smile only to groan in agony as it tugged painfully on his torn lips, his armoured hand coming up to cover as much of his eye and face as possible again. "G-Gandalf, my eye, I can't see out of it…" he stated with a voice on the edge of panic.
Gandalf froze, thinking on his answer before deciding to reply honestly. "Marcus…I'm sorry, your eye is gone…" He stated as gently as he could before grabbing the young warriors right arm and hauling him to his feet, deciding not to chastise him for his language for once when he heard the boy mutter. "Well that's a fuckin' buzzkill."
He couldn't help but notice as he guided Marcus back to their camp that the boys left vambrace had a monstrous dent in it, no doubt where the orc's axe had struck, but despite that it didn't seem to be causing the boy any pain so he didn't mention it, more focused on dealing with that horrifying facial wound.
"Come, we need to treat that, get it cleaned and bandaged up." He stated, Marcus merely nodding drunkenly and leaning against him, obviously quite dazed from the pain.
Sitting him down the Wizard went to his saddlebags and began to look through them, pulling out a full wineskin and some clean linen bandages, holding the wineskin out to the boy he commanded firmly. " Drink half of it quickly, only half!" he emphasised as he quickly pulled out a kettle and began to build the fire up from the embers that were left, the boy hadn't argued, drinking quickly, his swaying growing more obvious as the strong wine took effect, hesitantly he handed it back and Gandalf poured it into the kettle, the boys remaining eye widening a bit and the haze of pain and alcohol faded from it a little, the Wizard even heard him mutter. "I've got a bad feeling about this…"
To which the Istari couldn't help but snap grouchily. "Yet you didn't have such a feeling about charging into battle without your helm?!"
Marcus let out a low, pained groan before he replied, blood pooling from the ragged tear in the side of his mouth. "D-didn't feel I had the time, there were so many of them, any time wasted could have given them a chance to come up with a new plan or even just rally." The boys normally crisp and regal voice was a pained slur by this point, the alcohol and the agony he was no doubt feeling ensuring his words weren't exactly clear or entirely coherent.
Gandalf didn't reply, instead pulling the now whistling kettle from the fire and pouring the contents into an earthenware mug and turning to the boy, only to see him staring at the mug with his good eye full of dawning horror.
"N-no Gandalf, please not that, I couldn't bare it…" he near begged, his eye fixed on the mug with obvious and knowing terror.
Gandalf let out a soft sigh before he replied, it pained him but it was necessary. "You know as well as I do that the orcs and goblins foul their weapons before battle, if we do not purify your wound it will fester." What he didn't mention was that it might anyway, that orcs axe had been covered in rust, the boy might already have blood poisoning…
Marcus let out a halting breath before nodding and squeezing his good eye closed, holding out his right hand. "Give it here then, I will do it." He stated firmly.
"Are you certain? I could do it for you, it will not be pleasant…" The Wizard warned, understating the sheer agony that would be involved.
"I'm sure, I won't lash out if I do it myself." He stated before taking the mug and tilting his head back and then beginning to pour the boiling liquid over the gaping hole in his face, letting out a muffled scream as it poured down the deep channel. Before then throwing the mug away and collapsing onto his back with an agonised groan.
Gandalf stood up and peered at the wound, the wine had washed away most of the blood and had seared closed most of the blood vessels, ensuring that he could get a good look at it, as he'd thought the wound went down to the bone, it had cut cleanly through his eyebrow and most of the flesh on his left cheekbone before then cutting through his upper lip, then his lower lip, before cutting through his chin, it was a truly ugly wound that had disfigured the young Numenorean's otherwise handsome face.
The boys eye however was where the true horror was, gone was the grey orb full of life and wander at the world, instead there was a gaping slash, the boy had almost certainly completely and permanently lost sight in it if he was any judge, still it would not be best to worry him with things he couldn't change.
Grabbing the clean linen strips he began to wrap them around the boys head as he blinked up at the sky, clearly only partially conscious thanks to the pain.
"I-I was right…that sucked…" The boy groaned, clearly delirious with pain.
"Be silent, I must bind your wounds, then we must make all speed for Rivendell, Lord Elrond will be able to see to your wounds in a manner far greater than any I possess." He stated to which the boy merely nodded, going silent and closing his good eye with a sigh.
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After another hour they had mounted up and got on the road again, setting a brisk pace, the young Numenorean following behind Gandalf with uncharacteristic silence, the ruin on his face seeming to have left him rather introspective, that or the pain had left him unable to speak…the Istari kept a careful eye on him as they rode.
The boy only grew quieter as the day progressed eventually going completely silent, not even groaning in pain after a while, Gandalf had been just about to call a halt for the night when Marcus slipped off his horse with a clatter and fell to the ground, dismounting quickly the Wizard ran to his side and rolled him onto his back, only to grimace when he felt the boys temperature, pulling off the bandages his grimace only grew deeper when he saw the visible lines of corruption that were spreading along Marcus's veins from the injury.
Gandalf had half expected for the wound to be poisoned, even despite the drastic actions that they'd taken that morning to try and purge the wound, he was also visibly sweating, no doubt from a fever.
"S'not looking good is it?" The young Numenorean asked, slurring and with a slight twist to his lips on the good side of his mouth that might have been a smile…but far more just resembled a pained grimace.
"No, it does not…" The Wizard confirmed, thinking for a moment, he'd been setting a fast pace, so much so that the two day journey he'd predicted had been cut down to a single days hard ride, he'd been hoping to get to Rivendell the next morning, rather than the next evening as he had originally intended, now however he wasn't sure they had enough time, that the corruption had spread so far so incredibly fast was deeply concerning and made him think that the orc Marcus had faced had not just fouled his axe blade but had more than likely poisoned it with something actively malignant.
Re-bandaging his wounds as quickly yet gently as he could he did his best to ignore the foul smell that was already beginning to drift up from the wound.
"Come Marcus, get to your feet." He commanded, helping the lad up, before then guiding him back to his horse, the normally graceful and quick Numenorean stumbling like a toddler as he walked.
"We will ride through the night, hopefully we can reach Rivendell tonight." He said, strapping the boy to his saddle to keep him from sliding off again and not mentioning just how desperate the situation was starting to get, for the corruption to have spread so far so fast, and to be weakening a Numenorean so much…he had to hurry.
Mounting his horse he urged the animal into a fast trot with a few whispered words in Quenya, holding onto the reins of Marcus's mare as the Numenorean didn't seem capable of guiding the beast in his current fevered state.
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It would prove to be a long, hard night, Marcus's fever only growing worse, the black lines of corruption now visible even around the bandages covering most of his face, spreading down his neck as he dozed in the saddle, barely conscious.
Gandalf had pushed their horses possibly past the breaking point to cover the ground they had in the time they had, the animals were lathered in sweat and breathing hard, still they'd made it and he hoped that Yavanna would forgive him considering the circumstances.
Still, they'd made it, the valley of Imladris stretching out before them as they continued to ride hard for Elronds main residence, the Elven guards letting him pass without question as he was well known in the house of Elrond.
The Elf lords steward Lindir came out to greet them, most likely having been informed of his arrival by a guard, looking as lethargic as an Elf could. "Mithrandir? We did not expect to see you till this evening." He stated in Quenya, trying to appear polite, but even elven courtesy was lacking a little that early in the morning.
Gandalf himself didn't have any time for manners, Marcus wasn't getting any better, if anything the boy seemed to only be growing worse, blood beginning to pool from bandages around his face again…blood and puss. "Lindir, is lord Elrond present?" Seeing the Elf open his mouth, no doubt to ask questions he snapped tersely. "It's important."
The Elf paused for a moment, his mouth still open before he seemed to grasp the situation and nodded. "He is Mithrandir, I'm assuming you need to speak with him immediately?" He asked, his sharp Elven eyes taking in Marcus's slumped over form, Gandalf dismounting to go and help the boy, only to find him truly unconscious, one of the guards running over to help him as they hauled the boy off of his horse.
He was breathing still, his breath coming in strong bellows , but his skin was scorching to the touch and even with the bindings on his wound absolutely stank, only adding to the worry Gandalf was feeling as he and the guard half dragged half carried Marcus to the halls of healing.
Meanwhile Lindir, seeing the state that the Numenorean was in had made best speed for his lords chambers, knocking gently on the door before gently opening it and stepping through when he heard the slightly muffled. "Enter!"
He was surprised to see his lord buckling his belt on over his robe, clearly already awake and fully dressed, speaking quickly he attempted to inform him as to the situation. "My lord Elrond, Mithrandir has-" only to be cut off as the mighty Elven lord spoke.
"I am aware that he is here, do you know why? We were not expecting him till this evening." He stated, marching for the door, his presence filling the air, tense and cautious, it was not like the Istari to arrive at such a discourteous time of night.
"Indeed my lord, it is his companion, a member of the Dunedain if my eyes do not deceive me, he has been gravely injured." The younger Elf explained quickly, hurrying after his lord, he did not know that Marcus was a pureblooded Numenorean, not due to any great secrecy over the fact, but simply as the news hadn't travelled all that far yet.
"How gravely?" Elrond asked, slipping from lord to healer as easily as most put on a fresh cloak, his steps heading for the hall of healing at a brisk pace.
"I did not get a good look my lord, but the wound…it smelt of corruption even from several yards away." Lindir stated, trying to dredge up a detailed description of what little he had actually seen. "His veins were also visible, black and fading away the further they were from where I assume the injury to be…" He stated, ashamed to not be able to offer anything of more substance.
"Where was the injury located?" The elven lord asked simply, already running through possible causes and cures in his powerful and ancient mind.
"His face my lord, on the left hand side…" The Steward replied simply, not saying anything more as his lord clearly fell into deep thought.
Marching through the door into the Hall of Healing Elrond opened his mouth to great the grey Wizard sitting on the other side of a still form of a young man, only to be brought up short when he saw the boys face, with his right side facing towards the door only the unmarred side of his face was visible and to his shock it was one he recognised, though he had not seen it in over three millennia, not since before the fall of Numenor itself.
Still, there would be time for questions later, right now he had an injured patient who needed his help.
"Mithrandir, what happened?" he asked as he crossed to the other side of the young man, noting idly that the boy was already demonstrating impressive height for a mortal man, taller even than the elves he was distantly related to and already towering over most of the Dunedain.
Pausing as he took in the blood and puss soaked bandages clinging to the boys face, his nose wrinkling as he breathed in the smell, even for a being who had seen as many battlefields and injuries as him it was a foul one.
"Yesterday morning our camp was attacked by a small host of goblins, young Marcus here was on watch and was the first to respond, he charged in before I had even left my tent and engaged them, without putting on his helm, when I questioned him about it after the fight was over he claimed he hadn't felt we had time." Here the old wizard paused, clearly rather vehemently disagreeing with that particular decision and Elrond could understand why, the first piece of equipment nearly all warriors acquired was a helmet and for good reason, continuing the Wizard said. "He had killed maybe a half dozen before then trying to fight their leader, a big orc with some almost decent arms and armour, Marcus was by far the better warrior, but a single Longsword, no matter how skilful its wielder Is a poor choice against a shield and axe combination." Gandalf stated, Elrond and Lindir nodding in agreement, Elrond removing the filthy bandages as the Istari spoke, sucking in a breath when he saw both the damage and the disease that had already infected most of the left side of the boys face.
"I'm not certain how it happened but Marcus's blade was bound up and the orc attempted to bring down it's axe on his head, judging by the damage to his left vambrace he attempted to block it, but was only partially successful." The Wizard finished looking, at his companion with obvious concern, the Elf lords silent observation not exactly filling him with hope.
"Barring any complications I should be able to heal the worst of the damage, I have seen this poison used before and while it is cruel and aggressive, much like its creators it is relatively easy to cleanse, he will have an impressive scar though…and this eye…I will be able to stitch it up and stop the bleeding…but…he will never see from it again…" The lord of Rivendell stated, looking up from his examination his expression apologetic.
Gandalf nodded slowly in response before replying. "I had feared it was so…still, I am glad that he will recover, He is…important, things are changing around him…though I do not yet know if they are good changes or not…" he stated thoughtfully, he'd been considering Marcus's purpose for a while now…and he still wasn't sure of the boy.
Elrond nodded, clearly lost in his own thoughts, sorting through various cupboards as he grabbed the tools and tinctures he needed before then asking Lindir to go and retrieve a drink and some food for Gandalf, partially because the wizard was no doubt hungry and thirsty from his long ride, and partially because he didn't want the younger Elf to overhear what he needed to ask the Wizard next, not because he didn't trust him, but more because he didn't want him to get the wrong idea about their guest before he was even conscious.
"Gandalf were you aware that this boy looks almost exactly alike to Ar-Pharazon when he was young?"
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I awoke with a low, pained groan, the left side of my face throbbing slowly and steadily, blinking slowly at the too bright seeming sunlight as I looked around drowsily, finding myself in an incredibly comfortable bed, under delightfully soft sheets and in a warm and pleasantly bright and airy room. "Where the hell am I?" I asked myself, only to let out another pained groan as speaking tugged painfully on the left side of my mouth, my hand reaching up to touch the sensitive flesh, only for them to feel a mottled, stitched up tear in them, my memories coming back in a flash as I remembered the battle, and the agony that had followed my colossal mistake.
"Gods damnit…" I sighed, noting that my left eye was still covered, something that didn't exactly fill me with hope considering what Gandalf had said about the state of it when he'd seen it.
Sitting up I let out a gasp of agony before waiting for the pain to pass, one hand pressed against my bandaged face until it and the dizziness passed, then I swung my legs off of the side of the bed and rose unsteadily to my feet, letting out a sigh and haltingly making my way over to a looking glass mounted in one corner of the room, trying not to stumble as I did.
My head was spinning as I finally reached the mirror and I had you lean on the wall to stay upright, I'd clearly been out for a while if this was my bodies reaction to being upright, still shaking my head to clear it I reached up and began to unwind the bandages, trying not to cry out in pain when dried blood caused them to tug painfully on my injury.
Finally I had the bandages off and I couldn't help my single eyed stare at the massive and angry red scar that split the left hand side of my face in half, specifically at my left eye, in hadn't had a chance to go milky white with scar tissue yet, but had instead gone almost entirely red, no doubt thanks to the internal bleeding from the trauma it had sustained, letting out a low sigh I muttered to myself. "And so I now pay the price for foolish pride, bolstered by un-earned arrogance…" My small, cynical little smile might have seemed at odds with my situation, but there was no point in wailing about what I had lost, that wouldn't help anyone, instead I fell back on humour and the positivity of still having one eye! I had had brutal injuries in the past and knew that drowning in self-pity and recrimination would do nothing but make me miserable.
It was at the moment that the door behind me opened and someone came bustling in only to pause and gasp when she saw I was awake, turning around to greet this mystery visitor I froze and gaped in astonishment instead, my jaw practically dropping to the floor as I beheld the most beautiful woman I had ever seen, she was blonde and graceful, slender and willowy in a way that was just not possible for humans, it was her face that truly stunned me though, high delicate cheekbones, lips that whilst not plump were certainly succulent, a perfectly sized and graceful nose, and her eyes were two perfect sapphires, gazing at me with a wisdom and grace that I had never seen in someone who looked so young and beautiful, or in any human at all if I was honest.
"Ah, master Marcus, you are awake, we did not expect to see you so for at least another day." She stated as she seemed to shake off her surprise and walked further into the room, I noted that her tone, whilst respectful was not subservient, which made sense really, while she might have been a servant of her lord Elrond, I was just a mortal man, my lifespan to her must have been an almost blink of the eye, in that context I was surprised she was being as respectful as she was, I certainly wouldn't have been!
Gently she placed the food tray I had just noticed she was carrying on the side table next to the bed and gave me a small smile. "I have brought soup, it was all you could eat while you were unconscious, would you care for something else instead?" She asked and for the first time I noticed that she was speaking to me in Westron.
"No, thank you, If I am honest I am not feeling particularly hungry, but thank you again." I replied pleasantly in Quenya, unable to help the adolescent response to show off to the pretty female, despite my own embarrassment at such a thing.
"Very well then, would you like me to fetch you some clothes?" She asked with an almost…impish smile and a raised golden brow, glancing down I noticed for the first time that I was only wearing a pair of white britches and a splint on my left forearm? 'Huh, the orc must have broken It when I tried to stop his axe with my vambrace.' I hadn't noticed my near nakedness as Rivendell was so pleasantly warm and I had been distracted by other things.
"Ah, yes please, that would be appreciated." I stated with an awkward smile and to my annoyance a slight blush. 'I'm not a bloody teenager!' I thought furiously, sick of those stupid hormonal reactions, it wasn't even like I had anything to be ashamed of, while still on the slightly lanky side all of my sword and bow training, plus my work in the forge had left me with a powerful and muscular build…something that I knew delighted most of the girls back in Bree and infuriated the boys.
Just as she was about to leave I asked hesitantly. "If possible would you maybe be able to find my sword and armour? It will need maintenance and repairs." I explained with a shrug.
"I will inquire with the quartermaster." She stated with a shallow bow of her head and idly I noted with a slight amount of curiosity that not once had she looked at the left side of my face.
"My thanks…" I said to her retreating back before settling down to eat the soup, it was thin and relatively tasteless, designed to slip down an unconscious mans throat, not to taste good no doubt, but still, it would be rude not to eat it and my body could certainly do with the resources.
A few minutes later I was performing some simple stretches to loosen up my body after several days of inactivity, joints cracking and grinding back into place when my door opened again, turning I smiled at the return of the elven maiden, giving her a polite bow of my head.
"I spoke with the quartermaster, he says that your arms and armour have been cleaned and oiled and placed in the armoury." She stated as she placed a bundle of clothes on the bed, clearly my own from my saddlebags as the elves, while certainly tall compared to most mortals were as a rule nearly a foot shorter than me.
"My lord Elrond has also asked that if you are feeling well enough and when dressed would you be able to speak with him?" She asked, though I knew that for all the politeness it was almost certainly an order.
"Of course, I will be ready in a few minutes…" I stated with a pleasant smile that I fought to keep from turning into a grimace as it tugged painfully on my wound.
She gave a smile of her own and another small bow of the head before leaving the room.
I turned to the bundle of clothes and had to smile at the thoughtfulness, because sitting on top of them was a silken eyepatch, pulling it on I sighed in pleasure when it covered my constantly throbbing eye, turning to the rest I quickly started getting dressed, I was glad for my foresight in sticking to more practical clothes and the joy of having Hobbit tailors, the small folk actually being quite advanced in that particular field, hence my clothes looking more like they were made in the early nineteenth century, unlike the style of most of the people in middle earth who were stuck in the thirteenth century at best, they were a simple pair of black leather boots that stopped below my knees, black trousers, a black leather belt with a polished steel buckle, a white shirt and a deep blue waist coat with polished steel buttons and a black leather jacket with even more polished steel buttons, the Hobbits didn't have zips, I tended to prefer more muted colours, I was never one for bright or flashy outfits in my past life, probably thanks to having been colourblind.
Stepping out of the room I had been quartered in I smiled at the she-Elf and told her. "Well, I'm ready if you are?" trying to ignore the obvious curiosity in her eyes as she took in my, to her eyes odd clothes.
"Of course, my lords study is this way." She stated, gesturing for me to follow her, which I did whilst trying not to stare at the sway of her hips too closely, they weren't wide or overly seductive in their movement, but like everything with elves as I would come to discover they moved with a singular grace.
Finally reaching what I assumed to be Elrond's study she knocked on the door before turning to me. "This is where I leave you." She stated with a pleasant smile, turning to leave.
Gently I grabbed her upper arm, stopping her from leaving just yet. "I never caught your name?" I suddenly realised, blushing in embarrassment at my own rudeness.
She gave another soft smile and told me simply. "I am Teliril, daughter of Theriadir." She told me bowing her head slightly but respectfully.
Smiling and unable to help myself I gently took her right hand before placing a soft kiss on the back of it. "A pleasure to meet you Teliril, I am Marcus." And here I paused, thinking hard for a moment, I had been pondering on what to give myself as a second name for a while now, I had wanted it to be something that embodied my desires, my hopes and ambitions for both myself and the world around me, finally I continued. "Marcus Imperare." I stated, sure as I said it aloud that it wa the right choice.
The Elf maid bowed her head again and giving me another small, but slightly warmer smile said. "An honour to meet you." Before she turned and left.
Leaving me staring stupidly after her for a long moment before I shook myself and turned to the door, taking a deep breath to steady myself before then opening it and going to meet one of my favourite characters from what I had used to think was fiction.
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Well then! That's chapter 8 finished, I hope you all enjoyed and if you have any thoughts or suggestions please feel free to leave in a review! Till next time everyone!