ok peeps. so now we can carry on and actually get this story going somewhere instead of just staying at the same place. it had actually been so long since I even glanced at this fic *poor thing* that I had completely forgotten I wrote all the first stuff about dear Willikins and then my friend had read all to where I had written and wanted more so I started writing her more in english and then I came to upload and found this stuff so this is a bit of a colab. of old stuff and new stuff. I cannot express just how sorry I am for the delay, I know you all hate me and would gladly kill me but the fact is if you want more I must stay breathing lol. love you all loads.
and it was like lasy tear when I wrote that ^^^^^^^^ sos I is VERY soz for the lateness, BUT Ive already got the next chapter written so that wont be long ^_^
I SIMPLY MUST DEDICATE THIS CHAPPIE TO MY AWESOME FREAKEN COOL AFORE-MENTIONED FRIEND. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! SHE GOT ME WRITING THIS AGAIN AND WHENEVER A CONVO ABOUT CAME UP SHE WOULD GLARE HORRIBLY AT ME, MAKING ME FEEL ALL GUILTY COZ I HADNT UPDATED! SO THANK YOU FOR THE GLARING GIRL ;)
to my reviewers, thank you all, you all know how much I love you and yeah..love you always. and as always please do try to
ENJOY!..
Chapter 24 - Progress.
There was no pin-pointable moment, no exact second in time to tell when Will's spirit broke; it was more of a gradual thing.
Everyday Lukas would emerge out of his tent to give Will some water, more drugs and on occasion, half a mouthful of mouldy bread. Accompanied with the meagre sustenance was always one of their 'lovely little chats' as Lukas referred to them.
The physical torture had basically stopped since Will's inability to move, but he was still in no better shape then before, most likely worse due to the fact he had not had any treatment. Now his torutre was more of psychological. Everytime Lukas addressed Will he'd use possesive terms, calling Will his lovely and in general...his. He would drone on and on for near hours about nothing in particular though this in itself was not torture, but Will being incapable of physically reacting more than turning his head was incredibly frustrating. After days Will found himself too mentally exhausted and defeated to even spit out an insult and eventually it became too much to even glare at the bastard.
Every minute his thoughts were on how much he wanted nothing more than to be able to wipe the matted hair off his face - to be able to move.
With each day crawling by he felt his spirit begin to dampen, his hope begin to fade and somewhere in between Lukas' visits and his thoughts to himself he found his wish to move again had begun to turn into a strong need for more of the dreaded drug. The second he realised what was happening he used everything he had to not think like that, to stop the need and think about other things. But it was no use.
He was broken and torn. He wanted to be able to move again and if that meant giving in to the drug then maybe, just maybe...
Over days? Weeks? He very slowly regained feeling in his limbs and body until he could eventually twitch a finger, clench his toes or bend his arm, and he hated himself more and more.
Part of him tried to make it seem like it was all right by saying that because he could move he was gaining strength, but deep inside he knew that was not the case, it was the opposite. He was getting weaker, maybe not physically, but mentally. The fact that he could move already was proof that he had broken and given in, as much as he tried to deny it he knew it to be true.
During a talk with Lukas, the man mentioned that Will was exceeding his highest expectations by not giving in, then in a cheerful tone he added that he was not to worry. Lukas was a patient man and he would break eventually. Little did he know that by that time Will had broken at least a week ago.
Broken as he was though, he was smart enough not to let Lukas know he could move, and just how much. When he was confident enough, during the dead of night, Will gathered all the strength he had and attempted to move around for the first time in God only knows when.
He started by, as quietly as he possibly could, rolling himself onto his stomach and dragging himself to the nearest tree. He used the rough bark to pull himself to his feet, well, foot. He felt tremendous strain on his muscles as he used them for the first time in so long. He didn't even think about putting any kind of weight at all on his bad leg. As soon as he started to feeling again, the first thing he felt was his throbbing limb. A panic set in when he felt it. He was sure that after being completely still for so long that his leg had probably begun to mend itself, but because it had not been set it was probably mending itself in the wrong way. Could be a slight problem later on, Will thought, if there is a later on.
Simply standing up was enough for one night, he decided. He slowly dragged himself beck to where he had been lying, and made sure he was in the exact same position, so that Lukas would never know. Each night for about a week more he would do the same, until he felt strong enough to move around a little bit more.
Every time he felt ready he would go a bit further, though never wanting to strain himself, or ruin what little strength he had. His Ranger training had taught him the importance of keeping physically fit, but also to pace himself. He knew there would be consequences if he pushed himself too hard and he didn't really want that, so he took it nice and slow, even though every fibre of his being wanted him to run faster than anyone ever had, and get the hell away.
Crowley massaged his forehead with one hand and sighed. Organising a war was down right annoying, he had decided. The King had begun moving the army to the Plains of Uthal almost a week ago and it had only just finished arriving. Now, Duncan was out with his major commanders seeing that everything was in order. Crowley had sent out Halt with three other senior Rangers to keep an eye on Morgarath's oncoming army, every day or so one of them would come back with news about how far away they were, how many men and wargals he had and asked how things back at the Plains were going. Surprisingly, everything seemed to be alright, everything was, so far, going to plan. It was all fitting together just fine which made Crowley smirk. Take that Morgarath, he thought bitterly. They were going to win this war, nice and clean. Because there was nothing war-wise to really stress about Crowley was almost constantly worrying about Halt, and Will.
The grey-bearded Ranger was Crowley's oldest and closest friend and he hated, absolutely hated denying him to look for Will, but it had to be done. There was just too much to do and everyone knew that Araluen had no chance of winning this war without Halt. When it came to wars against Morgarath, Halt was somewhat of a worshipped expert.
Halt wanted to hate him, he knew. Halt wanted to hate the king, and everyone else who denied his wishes to rescue Will. But Crowley knew that Halt knew what was right, and whether it was fair or not was completely beside the point.
The Corp commandant sighed for the second time, he hated Morgarath even more that he thought possible for what he put Halt through. Crowley was going to be very glad when this was all over.
ok, not the best chappie, not too much going on but the next chapter will make you all smile. I PROMISE! IF YOU ALL DIED AFTER YOU READ THE NEXT CHAPTER, YOU ALL SHALL DIE HAPPY! apart from the obvious bit of Will-angst/hurt the next chappie is a GOOD one!
luv u all..
passion.