Captain Amrothos of Dol Amroth (![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} amrothos) wrote,@ 2007-12-21 23:19:00 |
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Dreams of Stars.
(note: Set between the fireships and before Zaira/etc. reached the Swanhelm. PG-13, there's non-graphic descriptions of blood and vomit.)
Amrothos was weightless and warm, but not still. Everything was moving, and he reached a hand out, to find he was underwater. Shafts of white light, refracting through the waves of the sea, glittered down at him, and he could see, far above him, pinpricks of light, burst into brilliant starbursts. Everything was warm and peaceful, dark, but not bothersomely so.
"We're losing too much blood!" The surgeon's assistant cried, "what's going on? Tie it off!"
"I'm trying," the surgeon shouted, as blood spurted from the raw stump that ended where Amrothos' elbow should have been. "I'm trying!"
A fish swam past Amrothos, and he curiously reached out to touch it. He'd always thought drowning would be terrifying, a lack of breath, a suffocating whiteness in his eyes, but he found he didn't need to breathe at all. Dimly, he wondered what they would tell Aeriel, when she was old enough to understand. Your father died at sea. The word died seemed to enormous, so impossible to fathom. This couldn't really be the end, could it?
"He's not breathing," Imrahil said from the door, watching them operate on his son. His voice was utterly devoid of emotion.
The surgeon's assistant dropped the device in her hands on the table, moving towards the captain's head, to try and get a breath out of him. "He's gone into shock! His heartbeat is irregular!"
"There!" The surgeon shouted, "it's tied! We can try and slow the bleeding now!"
He thought about the note he left to his cousin on his desk, trusted in Isfen's care, as he had trusted Isfen with the safety of Aeriel and Galador until Kiryatan could come and take the children back to Dol Amroth and his father's house. He thought about his manuscript, half-completed, that he had made Isfen swear to give to Kiryatan, to take home. Surely, by now, the knights would be moving home. Would Kiryatan sit up at night by a campfire, watching over sleeping Galador, turning the loose pages of his story? What would she think of them, she who had never loved, not as he had loved?
"Breathe, damn it!" The surgeon's assistant screamed at Amrothos, pounding on his chest. "Breathe! Breathe, damn you! Don't you dare let your heart stop!"
Amrothos wondered what it would be like to catch a star in his hands. That would be a good gift to give Aeriel. A star of her very own, plucked off the surface of the sea. She could wear it in her hair, when she was old enough. Maybe he'd gather handfuls of stars, and make her a crown. The princess of Dol Amroth ought to have a crown of stars, yes... He found himself pushing through the water towards the surface, where the stars lay. When his wife came back, she would be happy, happy that their daughter was so beautiful, so healthy. Happy he had been so faithful to her. Yes, he thought, as he swam towards the surface, pushing faster, and faster now, he'd pick a star up and keep it in a glass jar for his wife, and it would bloom into a vine of stars, and he'd turn it into a ring...
"The bleeding is slowing!" The surgeon was saying.
"That doesn't matter if he won't BREATHE." The surgeon's assistant snapped back. "We're going to lose him! Do something!"
And Imrahil watched it all in silence from the door.
Amrothos burst from underneath the waves into a glittering sea full of stars that grew like water-lilies upon the surface, drawing in a deep breath that seemed to fill his entire chest. The sky overhead was inky and blue, like the midnight color of dark velvet. The moon hung in a perfect round circle, bright and silver like the color of Imrahil's crest.
The air was full of a sweet, light fragrance, like the smell of his wife's skin, and he floated on his back amid the star-flowers, letting the smell wash over him. Warm happiness seemed to spread from his chest through his toes.
There was a sudden retching noise, and Amrothos began vomiting up sea water. The surgeon's assistant instantly began rolling him onto his side, letting the foul liquid spill onto the floor. "His heart is beating," she said, almost crying. She was new to the surgery business.
Imrahil softly exhaled from the door. Relief was visible on his face. Amrothos was going to live. The worst was over.
Amrothos remained where it was moonlit and comfortingly warm, floating along amid the star-flowers. He hadn't felt this happy since just after Aeriel had been born, and had been a healthy, normal child, and his wife had been recovering well. Some part of him knew he would not be this happy again in a long time. But for now... for now, he spread his arms in the warm water, his fingers wrapping around a flower. It pulsed warmly against his fingertips, and as he lifted it to his face, he saw, in the glowing star, the face of the woman he loved, smiling at him.
His heart leapt for joy with hope.
(note: Set between the fireships and before Zaira/etc. reached the Swanhelm. PG-13, there's non-graphic descriptions of blood and vomit.)
Amrothos was weightless and warm, but not still. Everything was moving, and he reached a hand out, to find he was underwater. Shafts of white light, refracting through the waves of the sea, glittered down at him, and he could see, far above him, pinpricks of light, burst into brilliant starbursts. Everything was warm and peaceful, dark, but not bothersomely so.
"We're losing too much blood!" The surgeon's assistant cried, "what's going on? Tie it off!"
"I'm trying," the surgeon shouted, as blood spurted from the raw stump that ended where Amrothos' elbow should have been. "I'm trying!"
A fish swam past Amrothos, and he curiously reached out to touch it. He'd always thought drowning would be terrifying, a lack of breath, a suffocating whiteness in his eyes, but he found he didn't need to breathe at all. Dimly, he wondered what they would tell Aeriel, when she was old enough to understand. Your father died at sea. The word died seemed to enormous, so impossible to fathom. This couldn't really be the end, could it?
"He's not breathing," Imrahil said from the door, watching them operate on his son. His voice was utterly devoid of emotion.
The surgeon's assistant dropped the device in her hands on the table, moving towards the captain's head, to try and get a breath out of him. "He's gone into shock! His heartbeat is irregular!"
"There!" The surgeon shouted, "it's tied! We can try and slow the bleeding now!"
He thought about the note he left to his cousin on his desk, trusted in Isfen's care, as he had trusted Isfen with the safety of Aeriel and Galador until Kiryatan could come and take the children back to Dol Amroth and his father's house. He thought about his manuscript, half-completed, that he had made Isfen swear to give to Kiryatan, to take home. Surely, by now, the knights would be moving home. Would Kiryatan sit up at night by a campfire, watching over sleeping Galador, turning the loose pages of his story? What would she think of them, she who had never loved, not as he had loved?
"Breathe, damn it!" The surgeon's assistant screamed at Amrothos, pounding on his chest. "Breathe! Breathe, damn you! Don't you dare let your heart stop!"
Amrothos wondered what it would be like to catch a star in his hands. That would be a good gift to give Aeriel. A star of her very own, plucked off the surface of the sea. She could wear it in her hair, when she was old enough. Maybe he'd gather handfuls of stars, and make her a crown. The princess of Dol Amroth ought to have a crown of stars, yes... He found himself pushing through the water towards the surface, where the stars lay. When his wife came back, she would be happy, happy that their daughter was so beautiful, so healthy. Happy he had been so faithful to her. Yes, he thought, as he swam towards the surface, pushing faster, and faster now, he'd pick a star up and keep it in a glass jar for his wife, and it would bloom into a vine of stars, and he'd turn it into a ring...
"The bleeding is slowing!" The surgeon was saying.
"That doesn't matter if he won't BREATHE." The surgeon's assistant snapped back. "We're going to lose him! Do something!"
And Imrahil watched it all in silence from the door.
Amrothos burst from underneath the waves into a glittering sea full of stars that grew like water-lilies upon the surface, drawing in a deep breath that seemed to fill his entire chest. The sky overhead was inky and blue, like the midnight color of dark velvet. The moon hung in a perfect round circle, bright and silver like the color of Imrahil's crest.
The air was full of a sweet, light fragrance, like the smell of his wife's skin, and he floated on his back amid the star-flowers, letting the smell wash over him. Warm happiness seemed to spread from his chest through his toes.
There was a sudden retching noise, and Amrothos began vomiting up sea water. The surgeon's assistant instantly began rolling him onto his side, letting the foul liquid spill onto the floor. "His heart is beating," she said, almost crying. She was new to the surgery business.
Imrahil softly exhaled from the door. Relief was visible on his face. Amrothos was going to live. The worst was over.
Amrothos remained where it was moonlit and comfortingly warm, floating along amid the star-flowers. He hadn't felt this happy since just after Aeriel had been born, and had been a healthy, normal child, and his wife had been recovering well. Some part of him knew he would not be this happy again in a long time. But for now... for now, he spread his arms in the warm water, his fingers wrapping around a flower. It pulsed warmly against his fingertips, and as he lifted it to his face, he saw, in the glowing star, the face of the woman he loved, smiling at him.
His heart leapt for joy with hope.