Findekáno Anaíro (ex_findekano266) wrote in voicesinmyhead, @ 2008-02-17 12:07:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | findekano, prompt #30 |
Prompt #30: Saint Valentine
He could not remember a feeling other than the distance numbness of anxiety. Not knowing what the future held but all of the terrible possibilities that he wanted to believe would never happen. It seemed like being trapped in a nightmare, standing at the edge of darkness wondering if it was truly possible for such awful possibilities to exist. Gently tracing each line of scarring across the hand he held, memorizing the new shape, the details of each change in the sleeping body on the bed. He contemplated the reality of what might happen should he not wake up. Or should he, be someone whose spirit has fled somehow from the torment of Angband, one who is both alive and dead.
They were travelers in a world only rarely spoken of by their grandfathers, leaving countless lives and possessions behind, tools of trade, what was of their lives in Aman that could not be carried on their own bodies. All of it gone, to try starting again in a world where the sword was more often half drawn than set aside for peace, with seasons harsh and unforgivable, in lands unknown and uncertain.
Findekáno leaned himself down to rest his head on the straw bed that lay thick on the floor, watching the rise and fall of the sleeping ones chest. Recollecting each mark under the sheepskin blankets, he had memorized each time someone had come to break badly healed bones or change a dressing, apply more of a salve or with more of the drug for keeping him sedated. The sweet perfume of the smoke filled the room, still making him worry for the breathing of Nelyafinwe. He breathed not unsteadily from it, but from the unnatural change in his shoulder that he was uncertain would ever right its self though they had worked at setting the dislocation. There were few times he could allow himself to leave, and he knew that with unflinching cold sharp anger that fed him strength every time he thought of it. Knowing that Nelayfinwe’s life was still in danger and not just from within, but from those who were willing to take the life of someone while still smiling all the while as if they still had honor.
The wrath of his father whom he had been carefully avoiding since the return to Mithrim, for the reality that he would be summoned immediately and then all manners of excuses found to prevent his return. The dreadful feeling that they would remain at a standstill, everyone too busy quarreling over a rulership his family all seemed to want for themselves, rather than considering the growing evil in the North being left unchecked. He touched the sickly white scarring along the inside palm, pale blue veins beneath, tracing the tips of each finger where nails were beginning to grow back. There was a stirring in the bed, and he watched the other quendi try to shift to look at him, “Moving will hurt more.” He spoke softly, watching dim afternoon light on the still bruised and weather beaten face.
Cool grey eyes somehow managed to convey without even moving his body a flicker of annoyance at being coddled, but the effect was dampened by obvious weariness. There was a faint scratching murmur from his throat, then a sigh from struggling to speak and failing. His long unused voice had fought to be heard, and had used the last of its strength, it would be some time before he regained it.
Findekáno felt a finger move against the back of his hand, the one finger that didn’t seem broken, and watched it trace a curve that ended in a point, then another that mirrored it, like the horn of a ram.
He couldn’t hold it back, and giggled helplessly with nameless emotions that forced themselves up from his chest as he looked at the figure that had been traced on his skin. Clinging as carefully as he could to the hand, while trying to wipe at his face with the sleeve of his shirt. Everything would be fine, the world could be falling apart around them both, but this was enough. He kissed the skin that was untouched, and watched him fall into a resting sleep.
muse: findekano
fandom: silmarillion