DORULL SAGA - SWAMP OF DEATH
----------------------------------------------------
Leaving the Thirel fort behind in haste, Thorin spur the horse into a steady gallop, following
the dark, dirty road towards Issurk. The storm was fast approaching from the
northeast, as if it was chasing him. More and more lightning flashed over the
night skies. Unpleasant sounds of thunder became ever so louder, almost
deafening, at the exact moment, as the heavy downpour fell over Tanmar. But it
seemed that captain Lutir wasn’t even aware of it.
He
risked falling, while rushing the horse over this slippery, muddy, and very
dangerous road. But he wouldn’t ease the pace even for a second. He was determined to
reach Issurk as fast as possible. Angry at everything, he completely
disregarded his safety. Soon enough, he had left the Thirel behind, and was
fast approaching the Tvayas hills. There were still several hours of riding in
front of him, but his horse had reached its limits. Thorin was pushing the
animal a bit too far. In the moment of carelessness, the horse suddenly
tripped.
Stumbling
forward, as his head almost touched the front hooves, the horse fell hard.
Thorin jumped off the saddle at the last moment, avoiding being crushed by the
tumbling animal. Captain Lutir hit the ground hard, proceeding to tumble and
roll for several yards, before suddenly stopping in a painful and awkward way.
Thorin allowed himself to let out a rather loud scream, immediately knowing he
made a terrible mistake.
Heavy hit
shook his entire body, leaving him out of breath for a couple of seconds. He
remained lying, recumbent, for quite some time, blinking and panting, looking
directly at the skies, as the rain washed his face. Thorin tried to get up, but
felt overwhelming pain in his ankle. He sat back, spitting in anger. Captain
turned around, calling his horse. But the poor animal was unresponsive, just a
few feet away from him. With an awkwardly broken neck, in terrible agony, the
horse was living its final moments.
Thorin
stood up. Despite the pain, he limped towards the horse. With every painful
breath it took, it seemed the animal bled more and more, from its hurt muzzle.
Scared, jittery look in its eyes, somewhat subsided, as Thorin patted the
horse's head. He sat beside the animal, long after it let its final breath.
Until finally, some ten minutes later, he stood, making way towards the nearest
tree, to cut off a quite long and straight branch. There were still about
twenty or so miles to the Issurk, he presumed. It was raining even more than
before, but Thorin decided to continue with his journey. There was no turning
back anyway. He felt his ankle getting bigger. Swollen from the fall, it was
hurting him more and more, with every step. He slowly started hobbling down the
muddy road, bolstering himself unto the branch. One painful step at a time.
With one painful thought on his mind, ever so closer to Issurk. Ever so closer
to his son.
No comments:
Post a Comment