Thank you to those that reviewed the last chapter, and as always patience in my very slow update-schedule is appreciated! This story is not abandoned, life is just hectic (and I totally managed to get corona from work, so woo, that definitely dampens the spirit. Oh well. I'm fine!). I would love to hear thoughts on this chapter – I both loved and hated writing it, and I would have liked to end it earlier on a real cliffhanger, but that would have been far too short a chapter to my liking. So it is what it is.
Enjoy!
Little Sparrow
Chapter XII: The Pale Glow of Night
Where the path through the marshes had been long and dreary, a miserable struggle through sludge and endless mires, Emyn Muil now proved a different – much harsher – challenge. This new stage of her journey brought her now through gullies and crevices; narrow and steep, forcing her to turn back and seek another way, and others wide and climbing, twisting up the rock walls. Often she found herself on the precipice of a great cliff, with nothing but a sheer and dark drop before her into blackness. The maze of stone seemed endless, stretching out around her like a shadowed mesh of grey.
The wind was ever present, never relenting, and it came as howling gales that swept in from the far North. Chill and fresh. A feeling of insecurity grew. It was difficult to find paths wide enough for Luin, and Rell was forced to find other ways around; winding her way forward and back, straying first southward then straight East, yet never did she put much distance between them and the rot of the Marshes. It lingered still in the air. Every waking hour was spend in a climb through the rough landscape, accompanied with dejection and increasing concern. She had seen no sight of neither bird nor beast in the difficult terrain.
Her supplies grew scarce for each passing day.
Would she starve before she found a way through?
Her mind felt muddled, unclear, ever since first stepping foot into the Dead Marshes now many moons ago. A veil drawn across her eyes, so that she could no longer see nor think clearly, and into Emyn Muil it had followed her. The purpose for her journey seemed too far away, unobtainable and soon, with every step over treacherous rocks, Rell came to further doubt her own heart. Her purpose seemed uncertain.
The blackened bruises had long since faded, and the cuts were but reddened scabs on her wrists and leg; almost entirely healed. It was soon three months since her departure from Rivendell, and yet there had been no sign of her uncle, or his path since he crossed the Misty Mountains. The winds hissed like snakes in the deep-shadowed gully, an ever-present companion that often troubled her sleep, and made the days long and cold. She walked with downcast eyes, and her steps were shaky and weak. Fatigue clung to her head, shadowed her gaze with whispers of surrender.
There was bitterness in her mouth; not from food, for she had eaten nothing since the morning before. Defeat. The solitary journey had broken her; her spirits, previously thought to be undaunted, were now crushed. Rell knew not when she had allowed cracks of hesitation to fill her heart, but they had festered and grown until little could be done to mend the damage. Perhaps she had abandoned her task long before, as she had sat in desolation on the brink of the marshlands, now mindlessly walking without an end to the journey.
Rell finally came to understand.
She then rocked to a stop, frozen in her steps as fresh, warm tears fell uninvited. They burst from her eyes, like water falling from a dam. The sobs were stifled at first, attempting to hide her grief through sheer will, but soon they became distorted cries. The cries, raw in her throat as they came bubbling out, echoed between the rocks. The stubborn walls in her mind – the walls that held her up and made her strong – collapsed one by one.
Rell would never find her chieftain.
The wind blew chill through the gully to meet her, and before her a wide grey shadow loomed in a deep slope downwards. The sky was overcast, leaden, but even as the first heavy drops of rain fell the Ranger did not move. It was more than crying, it was the desolate sobbing from a person drained of all aspiration. The pain that flowed from her was as palpable as the winter wind; her tears mingled with the rain as she sank to her knees. Seemingly, everything in her mind fell into place, and the thread-like hope snapped. Puddles of water soon formed at her feet. She had thought herself to be in the right, to be wiser than her chieftain, and disregarded his commands.
All he had done was to keep her safe, yet the doom now brought upon her was by her own hand.
Foolish, thoughtless actions of a child. Her sobs stilled, small hiccups that soon passed to silence. A single thought repeated in her mind, slowly, but surely, growing in strength until all else was drowned by it. Will I die here ...?
The icy grey sky restlessly grumbled, and the rain came pouring down. The sound of emptiness was disrupted by the loud boom of thunder; the darkness in the sky shifted, lit up by another sudden flash sweeping across the rocklands. Another rumble. Luin danced and stomped skittishly by her side, and the tremors drew her mind back. While the heaviness, both in mind and body, beckoned her to remain until only numbness was left, she could not.
The burden of choice lay before her. Was she truly to forsake her uncle? The foreboding fear that had first driven her to leave the Angle had not faded, but remained raw and clear in her head; even more so in her heart. Yet the reality of starvation and failure was unmistakably clearer. Would she never again see her kin under the Sun?
What help could she give her chieftain, save to walk blindly into her own ruination now? Never would he know the end that came for her. For a long while, minutes or hours she knew not, Rell sat with her head bowed. Her legs cold from the hard rocks. Drops tapped against her hair, trickled down her brow and cheeks, until she was soaked. The endless rain fell like sheets cast over the bleak world, masking all sounds with a thunderous roar that came unbroken. The two powers strove in her. For a moment, perfectly balanced between their piercing points, she was wrecked by all-consuming terror.
Then, suddenly, Rell became aware of herself again.
She came to her feet, cold and wet and afraid, yet even though a great weariness was upon her, her will was firm. Her heart was lighter. Her hands sought Luin's warmth, burying her face in the soft coat as her arms draped around the horse's neck. "I will do now what I must," she whispered; voice cracked and hoarse, for it was long since she had last spoken. "What more can I do? I must go now, or I shall never go. I shall forsake my troth."
Her hands trembled, fingers digging into the grey mane to still her wavering heart.
"I will go home."
It felt like betrayal. Harsh and cruel were her thoughts, but her venture had been desperate, foolish at best, and only now had she come to realize it. Was she faithless to leave? No. She took Luin by the reins. The ground was covered in dark pools of water, mirroring the grey and black clouds above, and she traced her way back through the clefts and fissures. Slowly she walked, delayed by her doubts and the weather. Feet heavy and dragging. It felt as if at any time she could turn around, continue a fruitless endevour fueled only by stubbornness. The deluge continued; thunder rumbled in the far distance, and lightning flickered and danced across the sky.
The dull grey hours passed without event. Long formless slopes stretched up and away towards the sky on either side, grey and wretched pillars of rock. It was an unfriendly desolation, where no tree or blade of grass broke the emptiness. The wind changed, and now the rain came down almost sideways, beating into her back with newfound fury; to her it felt as if even the land willed her away.
Truly, her journey had come to an end.
For another hour she walked, finding the rocks both familiar and unfamiliar; new and old, so that she knew not if she had walked there before.
Around her the rain came to lessen, until it was but a soft and cold drizzle falling from patchy clouds, and the silence around her grew. The tip-tap of droplets stilled. Her feet became loud noises as they sloshed through pools or kicked up pebbled stones and rubbles, reverberating throughout the rocklands. Thunder still rolled ever so often in the distance, and every flash made her startle. The sun had set; already it had sunk behind the rim of the world without her notice. Beyond the shadow of the hills the sky was still red. A burning light was under the floating clouds, but where Rell stepped darkness came.
The road dipped and fell, carving its way through steep ridges; she could not mount and ride, for the ground was rough and treacherous. Rell carried on until the path became too dark and her feet too heavy, and there she halted. Amongst tumbled rocks she found a place to rest. The moon had passed into the West, and its light was hidden by the hills and the clouds.
In the black hours of night she rested, but Rell found no sleep; instead she waited for the grey and pale dawn.
Yet long before the rising of the sun, a light came upon the ravine when finally the clouds parted.
The distant moon was almost full, and its glow bathed the hills and cliffs of Emyn Muil in silver. The sky was filled with a pale cold sheen. The rocks gleamed black and hard, with pinnacles sharp as the points of spears, keen-edged as knifes. Rell looked up and caught brief glimpses of the stars, but they were faint and cloaked in haze. Again, all was quiet and still. Twisted and leaning pillars reared their splintered fangs above the ground, still and dark they loomed over her, fencing her in. Her stomach twisted and growled in her hunger, and she shuffled over to Luin; she searched through the satchels, finding only little food and taking even less. The dried berries tasted musty, spoiled, and the roots were hard and stringy.
The food sat uneasy in her stomach, but it did her good.
She drank the last of her water.
With the growing light and the slow approach of morning, Rell prepared to head out once more, when sudden dread came over her. Her hands were cold, and an unease spread across her arms and up her neck. She listened. But she heard no sound – not even the imagined echo of a footfall that had first made her startle. Feeling wary now, she drew Luin after her down the narrow gorge, finding the path before her sloping continuously down and further down. The ground was wet and slippery beneath her feet, and often she stumbled for sure footings. Her eyes were strained to see in the dimness.
She felt watched.
Throughout the day she went one way and another, only to circle back when she came to a dead end; there was no change around her. The rocks were dull company, and it felt as if the walls around her closed in; she knew they were not moving or alive, but at times it felt as if they would crush her where she stood. Her breathing came out ragged, and her brow was cold and clammy. The tricks of her mind left her fearful, afraid. Trapped in the darkness.
Rell did not remember this path.
The feeling only grew worse as day came, for while the sun climbed higher over the horizon it was accompanied by ominous clouds and darkening gloom. Rell was given only a brief glimpse of blue sky and a dazzling light of warmth, and then came the rain. Renewed and heavier than the downpour the day before. It was not long before her clothes were soaked, clinging to her skin as they weighed down her every step. The ground was glossy and hard to tread, and she made very little progress throughout the day. The very weather appeared against her in those long moments; tired to the brink of exhaustion, Rell willed her feet to move, one wobbly step at a time until she could go no further.
Rell all but collapsed when she found a corner, partially sheltered from the storm, and sleep was soon upon her.
It was still night when she awoke, finding the ground wet and the rain but a softened pitter-patter against the cliffs. The darkness was still heavy, hollow and immense, and for a brief instant there was a blaze as lightning flashed across the sky; for a second she saw stones stretching on both sides, walls black and smooth as glass, glittering. The murmur of the rain continued unbroken, but another sound crawled beneath the endlessness of the storm.
It was this sound that had roused her. By her side Luin was alert, ears twitching back and forth.
A single pebble rolled down the cliff above her, clacking loud in the quiet, until it landed with a plop not far from her. Rell stared at the small rock, stock-still, before quickly glancing upwards to where it had fallen from. Where the cliffs previously had been a constant gloom, they now seemed hostile; as if they harboured secret eyes and lurking dangers. Again, she seemed to feel eyes on her.
There was nothing to be seen. But the unease did not fade; her heart was beating loudly in her chest, and she could feel her mind waking painfully with anticipation. She was not alone.
It had been the softest, barely discernible, crunch of a footstep that had awoken her. Again she listened. She felt naked, out in the open in the midst of shelterless lands – an easy target. Rain fell upon her upturned face, and a cold wind howled through the ravine. Rell came to her feet, quietly moving until she stood close to the rock-wall; she pressed an ear against the cold stone and listened carefully. She closed her eyes to better her hearing. Her breath was baited.
Then there came another crunch, this time lighter and slower, as if to be quieter. But Rell had heard it. The sounds; the footsteps, were slowly but surely moving away from her. Had they noticed her presence? Her skin crawled, and the unknown above frightened her. She ran her hands across the rock wall, slowly, carefully, deciding if her newly-formed plan was possible. The rain fell unrelenting, and as her fingers dug into the rocks, they were icy cold against her skin. The precipice was sheer and almost smooth, and in the darkened night it was difficult to find holds; but there could be no more than five, maybe six or seven, ells to the top. It is possible, she decided.
Rell steeled her resolve.
She scrambled for small crevices, fingers and feet shuffling blindly as she slowly climbed the cliff; her body was pressed hard against the stones, cutting into her skin. Rell breathed sharply through her teeth, attempting to move as soundlessly as possible as her own weight pulled her downward. Mostly her fingers found solid holds, narrow and small, but at times the rocks crumbled and she had to scrabble with her feet for a foothold. Whether she had done this in bravery or foolishness, she could not tell, but bold curiosity drew her forward.
Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the rain was still falling softly. Water fell into her eyes, obscuring her vision, and it was hard to see far ahead in the dark. Again her foot slipped, and a sharp pain shot through her arm when she clutched a razor-edged rock. Warmth trickled down to her elbow. She glanced to the bottom of the gully, now a drop below her. Not wishing to fall, Rell moved only slowly and carefully. The new injury in her hand ached, and every time she grabbed hold with it she winced in pain.
She came to a place where the surface was smooth; there was no hold and the ledges were far apart. Her hands fumbled blindly through the darkness, seeking anything to grasp, all the while her body trembled from exhaustion. It was with desperation that her fingers gripped the faintly protruding ledge a bit ahead, and she could pull herself further up. She panted laboriously as she fought for mastery over herself; squinting up through the darkness, Rell could see the edge of the cliff not far away now. The last arduous leg of her climb.
Rell hauled her body up. Her fingers curled around the top stones, and her head came up above just as a brilliant shock of white flashed across the sky. The lightning ripped through the inky night and blinded her. Her vision swam, and barely had her eyes adjusted to the deep gloom once more, when two pale points of light appeared before her.
Large luminous eyes.
It was a wretched creature; a harsh, rotten breath came from behind sharp and pointed teeth as it spoke. "Hssss, my precious, what hasss we found? Ssso hungry, yes, precious – sss – gollum!"
With a startled yelp, Rell recoiled in sudden terror as twitching fingers reached for her, clawing almost against her cheek, only to find her feet slipping.
She searched for a hold on the rocks, but the trickling rain made her fingers grasp onto nothing; flailing, fighting, she felt herself falling, and in those few moments the world was but a blurred rush. She knew pain was coming. Everything went by fast, yet slow, almost suspended. Inevitable. The thought to protect herself barely passed her mind. A scream was on her lips, but no sound came. The last thing she saw was the two pale glowing eyes high above, and a rattling hiss was on the wind.
Then impact.
Something pooled around her head, warm and wet it spread; through her hair and down her neck. The rain fell as heavy droplets onto her face, splattered against her cheeks like needles. But its icy chill did not hurt – it could not hurt, not compared to the searing pain that shot through her. It increased in waves, small lulls giving false hope of an end. Her breathing was but gurgles, a struggle to breathe, spitting blood. It hurts ... The night was cold, and the wind blew chill through the pass. There was a snuffling, a harsh hiss of breath thrown around the walls of the gully, loud and all-consuming.
It was getting closer.
She was too weak to stay awake. Something was broken.
Somewhere.
Her eyes flickered into the darkness, but she could see nothing. Could not move.
Eventually the pain settled into a sort of sharp throbbing that dug deep, deep within her and went through anything and everything. The pain became too much for her mind to bear, and she could feel, rather than see, the blackness seeping into her vision. Shadows advancing to smother her. Panic seized her. The eyes! The horrible, pale eyes, flashed in and out of her deadly thoughts, and she struggled to stay awake. It will eat me, it will eat me!
But she lay already half in the nightmare, imagining that wretched dark fingers gnawed at her flesh, digging deep and even deeper. Until crimson swirled into one with the dark pools, tearing, pulling, dragging her apart. Her fingers trembled, shaking, but her arms would not move. It was not because of the tears welling up, that her failing eyesight blurred, but rather her mind slipping from consciousness. Everything became fuzzy; then she saw nothing. She wanted to be saved. Throughout the inky space her heartbeats pounded loudly, swift in her terror, echoing in her ears. Feeling her body draining away until, finally, all was black.
The hissing was not from the wind. Getting lower, sharper and clearer, and so much more horrible when all other senses failed her.
It was but a suggestion of movement from beyond her failing vision; it was formless and indistinct, like a piece of shadow shifting. But it was there.
"Ssstill breathing, yes, yesss." It was a voice like no other. So terrible. The dread crept over her, an icy chill that numbed. In her frozen state it offered only one thought. It is today. Closer, approaching. Soon there. I will die here. She let out a soft moan, fingers scratching across the stones; with a plop she knew the creature had scaled the wall and landed beside her. "Not for long ..." The beating of her heart was ear-splintering loud. So loud it was that even the ground beneath her trembled. Again and again and again.
It rolled over her like thunder, booming through her ears until her mind flashed white.
A high-pitched scream carved through the falling rain, and a long, drawn-out hiss came not far from her. A pitter-patter of feet over the wet stones sounded, shying around her just out of reach, attempting to approach. Closer, then further. For it was Luin, and not her heart, that thundered through the ravine like thunder; the horse stomped and kicked, making the ground tremble. Stones danced. The creature hissed sputtering curses, snarling, yet was continuously turned away by the enraged defense of the fallen Ranger.
"Nassty it is!"
Good ... Luin ...
It was to the stomping of hoofs and vicious snarls that darkness claimed her, when the pain became too much, and she sank into the deep depths of unconsciousness. Blood gushed from somewhere; an exposed wound, sticky and warm. Black numbness enclosed around her, until only the beating of her heart could be heard; vigorous, until it slowed. Weakened. Boom ... Boom ... Then all was quiet. Boom. No nightmare, no dream, came to her then.
Only blackness.
The light was pale and clear in a rain-washed sky; the morning dawned bright and fair, encouragingly beautiful. A sight almost rare in the lonely wasteland that had long been a steadfast companion to her. But Rell could not marvel at nor cherish the pale strips of blue; the softness of the wind, and the warm caresses of the pale sun on her skin. She could feel air blown into her hair, and a heartbeat not her own; sensing the large, loyal animal pressed close to her side like a solitary rock shielding the land from the ocean's wrath.
There was a growing ache soon turning to pain and a deadly chill in her body.
It was difficult to move, and the pain felt as if it came from everywhere. So much pain, in her arms and legs; but worst of all she feared the damage to her back. The blood around her head. She lay motionless and listened fearfully to the sounds of her surroundings; howling winds in the rocky gaps, water dripping, the rattling clacks of a loosened stone. There was a constant feeling that the creature, strange and cruel to behold, would return. To choke the life from her with its long and gangly hands. There was an echo as of following feet; first it came from high above, then suddenly from behind her and to the side, moving one way then another.
Rell shut her eyes and willed her mind away, to focus her everything on the faithful companion by her side. On the warmth. She forced back bile, rising in her throat, and a searing flash of white crossed her vision. There was no escape from here. Only waiting, long and painful, and only the Valar would truly know her fate. Was she to wait for a slow and painful death to claim her? Wither away from either her injuries or starvation? With a last effort, she prayed in her mind to the hidden lights in the sky, to Elbereth and Eärendil, let me not die here.
Again her senses failed her.
She could only hope Luin would protect her.
Everything else around her had dissolved like it was never there at all, and in the darkness of her mind nothing seemed important – life, death, pain. If only it could end with swiftness it would be a mercy. The despair was worse than the hurt of her body, the agonizing and slow wait for the unknown a vice-like grip of agony on her heart. Of endless waiting.
In the long hours that followed Rell lay between waking and sleep, wavering between her exhaustion and the will to move. The will to live. Uneasy dreams wove through the flickering moments of clarity and great torment, in which she walked in the meadows and hills of Eriador. She sat by the fire with her uncle, or dipped her feet in the cold spring waters in Rivendell. She fought and sparred with her friends in the Angle, or hunted deer in the forests.
Yet, the light in her dreams seemed dim and faint, and the lanky shadow that crept after her appeared all the more clear. The hissing came with the wind, close, its rotting stench filling the air as if the creature breathed down her neck. But when she turned around to look, there was nothing. She would startle awake, shivering and frightened; a fevered delirium that blurred the world around her. Turned the long shadows into flickering ghosts, and the wind hissing and biting as if to reach her very bones.
When she truly woke again the light was failing, and day was slowly turning to another night. Dusk was falling rapidly. Rell struggled to move; carefully determining the damage, first in her fingers and toes. Wriggled them, slowly, with great attention. Then, whimpering as pain cut sharply through her body, she tried to move her head sideways. Luin shifted and a breath of warmth blew into her hair. Try again ... It was with a searing, burning rush throughout her body and tears running unceasingly, that Rell could now see the silvery-grey coat of Luin, curled around her.
The tears stemmed not only from great pain and effort, but also a deep relief that then flooded her senses.
In her heart of hearts she had feared so much worse.
This, the very small movement of her head, at least, was a start.
Rell swallowed, mouth rough, dry; there was a taste of iron and mud, and a cough drew past her lips. Painful and raw. She was so, so very thirsty. With unsteady, twitching fingers, she fought to raise her hands. Her left arm lay limp by her side, and as she twisted her head – teeth clenched in agony – it was easy to see why. Her eyes shut tightly at the sight, and nausea pressed against the back of her throat. Mangled flesh, dark crimson and a pale white intermingled; the bone was bent out of shape.
When she opened her eyes again to look at the injury, tendrils of pain shot through her and she felt sick. Breathe. Rell tried to fight off the shock, slowly but surely blanketing her senses, until all she could do was watch. She could feel blood draining from her face, and a shakiness was in her searching, seeking fingers. The other arm ... check the other arm! Her voice pleaded, forcing her at last to turn away her gaze. She swallowed once more, bracing herself for what was to come, and then she swiftly turned her face.
In the little light that flowed down between darkening clouds, she could see great purple welts; grotesque against her pale and clammy skin, spreading purple with yellow blotches. It hurt to breathe. To her relief she could see no broken bones. Her left side had taken the worst of the fall and spared her right; she directed all her strength into the limb less injured. It was hard to find the courage to keep up, and so she focused on one small part at a time; to clench her fingers, and to stretch them again. Then her wrist, slowly and carefully, to see if it could move without pain.
It took many long minutes, and often she had to pause in her exhaustion. Breathing heavy and ragged.
Then she carried on. It was only one small step at a time, painfully long and agonizing, when finally Rell could tenderly run her fingers over the broken bones of her left arm. She dared not touch; only hover slightly over, leaving ghostly trails that barely brushed the limb. Even that hurt. Bone-white shimmered into view, when she carefully drew the sleeve aside; it was an open fracture, and the splinter of bone had torn through tissue. A whimper of protest pressed against her clenched teeth.
Whether the Valar had held a hand of protection over her, or it was mere chance, it seemed like no major veins had been severed. Yet the loss of blood was nevertheless grave, if the crimson pool was anything to go by. There was very little she could do then, and instead Rell turned her focus to her back and head.
Her fingers moved slowly, searchingly, over her elbow; to her shoulder, where the skin had turned blackish-blue and yellow. With hesitation she pressed down on tender flesh, biting back cries, but found nothing bent out of shape.
When she then came to her head, she first found her hair sticky and matted with thick, drying blood.
The rocks beneath her were smooth and flat, but their edges were jagged. Her fingers found what they were looking for; on the back of her head there was a long, though narrow, gash. The skin was torn and swollen, where blood was continuously seeping out. Yet, to her great relief, it was but a shallow cut. Fluid had accumulated around the wound, and a bump the size of her palm was pulsing as she cupped it in her hand. Momentarily, Rell closed her eyes and calmed her breathing. Stars danced across her darkened eyelids, and a dizziness clouded her mind.
Thinking was difficult, strained and hard to force.
Around her nighttime approached with swiftness; shadows crawled across the ravine, seeping down its sides until it became hard to see. The sun had set, and dusk had gathered. The moon came high in the dark-blue sky, a thin silvery sphere that gave her very little light. Only a handful stars peered between veiling clouds. Rell breathed deeply, squaring her wavering heart for what was next to come.
The hand fell to her side again. It was shaking from her exhaustion, bruised and in pain, yet Rell knew she could not stay; she had to move, and could not just so easily turn a blind eye to her wounds – even if she dearly wished to. They needed urgent care, especially her arm, if she was to hope to ever use it again, let alone not die from it. The dark and blackened bruises would fade; the cut on her head likely heal on its own in time. But the broken bone had to be set. The very thought turned her skin clammy. Rell swallowed.
"Luin," she called with an effort.
She tapped the ground by her right side, calling the horse to her. The large animal stood, and already she missed the warmth against her body. The beating of hooves against the rocks echoed into the silence, sprung between the towering walls of stone that watched her in silence. Soon the horse lay down on the spot Rell had indicated to; deep clever eyes watched her, nostrils blowing air against her outstretched hand.
She ran her palm across the soft coat, leaning into the touch, while her fingers grasped for the leather halter tied to the mare's head. It was with much difficulty that the Ranger drew herself up; if not for the great horse by her side, she could not remain sitting. Her head swam, and the air felt cold and sharp in her lungs. Rell gasped for breath, and she nearly doubled over. Nausea clawed at her throat, and she tried to force down the bile, but it was too late.
She threw up.
Her stomach kept on contracting violently and forced everything up and out. A pungent stench invaded her nostrils, and she heaved, coughing and choking, even though there was nothing left to go. She had eaten so little over the last many days. Tears stung the corner of her eyes as futile whimpers for help spilled from her lips. Rell clung to the halter, her fingers clenching and unclenching in shivering twitches, until the contractions eased. Cold sweat trailed down her brow, drippled into her eyes, and a bitterness coated the insides of her mouth.
At some point she must have passed out, but for how long Rell could not tell.
Cool twilight surrounded her; it was still dark, and the black abyss stretched far around her.
She was drenched with sweat. Her eyes roamed down the length of her body, for the first time seeing the entirety of her injury; she could remember only very little of the fall, but she must have somewhat lessened the blunt of the impact. A breath of almost palpable relief escaped her lips. Her legs were unharmed. They pulsed and hurt, but could move without issue. Rell drew closer to Luin and linked her arm through the reins; it took several long moments of hesitation, expectant of the pain that would come, before she gave a feeble command.
"Up, Luin." The large horse steadily came to stand, while Rell stood with trembling legs and clung to its muscular neck. A blinding flash of agony stabbed through her left arm, hanging slack against her side. She drew it to her chest with her uninjured hand, supporting the fractured bone as best as she could, while she talked Luin over to the cliff wall. She needed shelter – and a place to lean against to fix the mangled mesh that was her arm, for on her own she could not even stay upright.
After long moments that left her breathless, Rell slumped, rather than sat, against the solid stones of the bluff. Her back was against the wall. She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them once more it was with a quavering heart. With tender appraisal, Rell cradled the arm as her fingers meticulously prodded the ruined flesh. Blood oozed out, soaked into the fabrics and the tangy smell of iron wafted into the air. It was hard to see anything in the deep dark of the Winter night, and she relied heavily on her sense of touch.
She had seen broken bones before. Both how healers handled such an injury, but also how her fellow Rangers went about it in the wilderness; when there was little else to do than snap the fragments into place, and then pray for the best. The image that then came to her mind made her dizzy, senses clouded in anticipation of the pain. Usually someone held down the injured person, while others worked on the bone.
Rell doubted the courage of her heart. How could she do it alone?
Slowly, she came to sit up straight; her head was pounding, like the steady beat of a drum, and she focused on the repeating thuds as she settled the arm between her legs. She searched, pressing down the length of the bone, until her hand settled on the fracture. Every part of her body screamed for her to cease, yet her fingers continued; Rell had to be sure before she could do anything. She wriggled her legs until her lower arm was partly gripped between her thighs; held in place for what was to come. There was no room for hesitation. She took a deep breath, banished the wavering of her heart and mind, and clenched her teeth.
Thud-thud, thud-thud.
Then she snapped the bone into place.