A Silver Lined Outcome | April 3010 | - Ravien
Jun 29, 2018 0:43:07 GMT -5
Post by Galadion on Jun 29, 2018 0:43:07 GMT -5
It was almost as if the gods were fated to do him in whatever methods they could think up, or so he thought in the heat of a moment. An arrow whizzing close enough for the whistle to ring in his ear would bring him back to the reality of his heart pumping, legs striding across the forest floor with all the grace of his elven foster-kin, albeit wounded and not thinking straight. He didn't need his mind anyways, and his mind was in agreement as well. Each fleeting stride across open terrain was another opportunity for the dark creatures at his rear to once again attempt to render the young Dunedain lifeless. Arrows and bolts alike whizzed through the air, some of them coming dangerously closer to their target. The bleeding stemming from his shoulder was proof enough of that, as well as the fresh signs of wounds from both blade and beast alike.
It was as close of a call as one could ever get to crossing a blurred line between life and death. His body just moved as fast as he could push it, no matter what his mind panicked over next, or even the sporadic blurriness in his eyes from the increasing loss of blood. Deeper and deeper into the trees he went, and the Orcs at his back followed for as long as their prey was in sight. So much was their confidence that the lot of them were momentarily left looking confused when their volley was met with air. The young Dunedain bee-lined it to the left, his eyes having spotted dense thicket that had only sparsely been seen the previous few miles. His forearms guarded his face as he charged through the greenery, pushing it out of his way with a last burst of stamina.
For the briefest of moments he felt relieved, but the feeling was as fleeting as the ground beneath his feet. Galadion paid no mind to what was beyond the brush, and his feet would find air as he charged off what appeared to be a small cliff overlooking a pool of water. His body definitely felt relieved now hat it wasn't moving anymore. Even though he felt that he had to keep moving, there was a sense of calmness coming to him while his eyes gazed upon the shimmering surface of the water underneath him. Both body and mind would drift away, just moments before his body broke the surface of the water and drifted down below. If it was to be the end of his tale, the Ranger was more disappointed in how it ended than the end itself. A figure sat opposite of him at the end of a table as those thoughts culminated into something a bit more tangible.
Looking around he could tell he was currently sitting in the living of a small house. Frankly he didn't know much other than that, although it was definitely Elven in both its style and feeling. The smell of freshly-brewed tea told him that something wasn't right, and so did the fact that he just couldn't recognize the person's face, nor even attempt to describe it. It was almost as if he wasn't meant to see it, although its figure was clearly feminine in shape. Galadion let out an extended sigh and relaxed his brain from thinking for just a moment. It only took a few seconds before a thought slipped into his mind, and with it a conclusion of what he was feeling, and seeing.
"I think I get it now." Galadion spoke up to nobody in particular as he got up from his seat and poured himself a cup of what smelled like a hot tea. He made sure to enjoy a long sip of it before sitting back down at the table. "Either i've really done it this time, or this is one hell of a dream." It wouldn't have been the first time he'd maintained a semblance of 'realization' whilst dreaming...but this was just a little bit different. He truly felt the warmth of the tea he sipped, smelled the mixture of cooking spices and baked Lembas from the kitchen, and not to mention his other senses. They were all there, and he couldn't quite explain it. The only wildcard was the woman who he just couldn't quite even discern from...well anything, nor react to his presence in the slightest.
It was only once he sat back down, his temporary stupor over and done with, did the being gently wave a hand in the air, its finger tracing a pattern through the air which lit up into a series of characters written in another tongue. Seconds later the light emanating from the characters exploded forth, blinding him and detaching him from the rest of his senses within an instant. Suddenly he no longer felt as comfortable as he did before, and the blinding light was replaced by a fluttering darkness.
His eyes opened up rapidly as he lifted up without caution his wounds, the pain stemming from the action being far worse than what he was expecting. He gritted his teeth in the process, and even brought closed fist down upon the bed's wooden frame in an effort to think of something other than the grievous wounds patched up all over his torso. He heard voices coming from the other side of the door, and it even sounded as if someone was approaching. Galadion would throw his blouse on before the odor opened, albeit lazily with only the bottom half of the buttons done. With the state of the wounds on his torso, he wasn't going to risk moving his arms anymore than he had to for the time being.