Killing Beauty
folder
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
54
Views:
4,542
Reviews:
62
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Multi-Age › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
54
Views:
4,542
Reviews:
62
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own the Lord of the Rings (and associated) book series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter IV
Ashva wasted no time in tieing the leg up with bandage. If the elves thought she was being rough, she didn't notice, their faces showed only concern. But when she tried to position the marchwarden for the next removal, she seriously considered telling them it was pointless, that the arrow had been inside of him too long, but then she looked into Rumil's eyes and decided she couldn't do that. Not even she could walk away from hope.
"Hold him securely," she said and once more rose over his body and pushed downward. She could hear it tearing and wanted to stop, she felt him fighting against the searing pain, and worse, he yelled and clutched at his brother. She had prayed she would never hear that kind of cry again. That she would not be reminded of why she rode alone, and with a grimace she pushed back those terrible memories as the arrow broke ripped through his trembling flesh. She turned him and yanked the arrowhead off the shaft. Working quickly, she turned him back. There was a sickening sound when she pulled the shaft out of his body. He did not scream this time, but she wondered if it was because his throat was now raw. Taking the bandages from the elf, she wrapped them securely around him. Now if she were mistaken and the arrows had not been in his body too long, he would heal quickly, but she had detected the faint odor of poison and that worried her.
Ashva could not leave them alone; they had no weapons save only their keen sight and speed. Tomorrow she would know how they fared, and common sense told her that they would be returning to Lothlorien, while she continued her hunt for the Rohan horseman. Only a fool would try to follow the Os back to their dwelling by the dark sea, their dark city of Lascana. Bundling up in her cloak with the wolves at her side, she made a bed of the ground while the black stallion with the white face grazed nearby. The four of them had carried Haldir back to the wagon and had made him a bed inside of it. She could hear the elves whispering among themselves, their concerns for the marchwarden and the missing princess. She wanted to speak up, to say the princess was probably dead, and if not, it would be merciful if she were. The Os hated elves, and a young elven princess was a tasty prize. But she kept her council to herself and soon drifted off to a fitful sleep
"Hold him securely," she said and once more rose over his body and pushed downward. She could hear it tearing and wanted to stop, she felt him fighting against the searing pain, and worse, he yelled and clutched at his brother. She had prayed she would never hear that kind of cry again. That she would not be reminded of why she rode alone, and with a grimace she pushed back those terrible memories as the arrow broke ripped through his trembling flesh. She turned him and yanked the arrowhead off the shaft. Working quickly, she turned him back. There was a sickening sound when she pulled the shaft out of his body. He did not scream this time, but she wondered if it was because his throat was now raw. Taking the bandages from the elf, she wrapped them securely around him. Now if she were mistaken and the arrows had not been in his body too long, he would heal quickly, but she had detected the faint odor of poison and that worried her.
Ashva could not leave them alone; they had no weapons save only their keen sight and speed. Tomorrow she would know how they fared, and common sense told her that they would be returning to Lothlorien, while she continued her hunt for the Rohan horseman. Only a fool would try to follow the Os back to their dwelling by the dark sea, their dark city of Lascana. Bundling up in her cloak with the wolves at her side, she made a bed of the ground while the black stallion with the white face grazed nearby. The four of them had carried Haldir back to the wagon and had made him a bed inside of it. She could hear the elves whispering among themselves, their concerns for the marchwarden and the missing princess. She wanted to speak up, to say the princess was probably dead, and if not, it would be merciful if she were. The Os hated elves, and a young elven princess was a tasty prize. But she kept her council to herself and soon drifted off to a fitful sleep