Post by Calon on Jun 3, 2009 23:25:02 GMT -5
The darkness grew in his mind, and Calon knew that if he did not fend it off, it would not be long before his life would be spent. Before he would fall into the darkness. If lost consciousness now, he would not be able to keep himself astride his mount. And then, such would only lead to the perfect opportunity for a swift kill on the Nazgul’s part.
If he were feeling generous. The man grunted against the weakness he felt, trying to focus his muddled mind. How close would the pursuer go to the White City? Surely he would not wish to announce his presence to the whole of Minas Tirith. But letting Calon escape would be the very same.
Death seemed inevitable. Talagor’s breathing was too heavy; the stallion would not be able to keep such a pace up much longer. Nor should a rider have asked him to. But it was not only Calon’s own fears, but those of his dear horse that had kept his feathered feet galloping through the night. “Steady boy, steady,” Calon whispered soothingly. If he only made it a bit farther; perhaps the other steed was tiring as well.
Calon dared not look back. He did not wish to see the black figure again; he needed to concentrate on other things. The weakness was still upon him. He gripped the reins tighter, then and grit his teeth.
Some break this had turned into. From the thoughts of relaxation he had held earlier to a true race for life or death. And he had arranged with the Stable Master to get such a day off tomorrow! Well. It seemed likely that he would not only not be reporting to the stables tomorrow, but every day thereafter.
No. He scolded himself. Such thoughts of death were not helping him any. He would miss a few more days of work than one. Perhaps two for the rest he would need after such a fright. Perhaps none at all. No; Calon would drown himself in work to avoid his Grandmother’s codling. Aside from this, Gondor needed him.
The Steward need know of the presence of such dark enemies. The Captain’s needed to be warned. And since all other witnesses laid slain somewhere outside the city walls, it was up to the stable hand to bring the news to them.
If he were feeling generous. The man grunted against the weakness he felt, trying to focus his muddled mind. How close would the pursuer go to the White City? Surely he would not wish to announce his presence to the whole of Minas Tirith. But letting Calon escape would be the very same.
Death seemed inevitable. Talagor’s breathing was too heavy; the stallion would not be able to keep such a pace up much longer. Nor should a rider have asked him to. But it was not only Calon’s own fears, but those of his dear horse that had kept his feathered feet galloping through the night. “Steady boy, steady,” Calon whispered soothingly. If he only made it a bit farther; perhaps the other steed was tiring as well.
Calon dared not look back. He did not wish to see the black figure again; he needed to concentrate on other things. The weakness was still upon him. He gripped the reins tighter, then and grit his teeth.
Some break this had turned into. From the thoughts of relaxation he had held earlier to a true race for life or death. And he had arranged with the Stable Master to get such a day off tomorrow! Well. It seemed likely that he would not only not be reporting to the stables tomorrow, but every day thereafter.
No. He scolded himself. Such thoughts of death were not helping him any. He would miss a few more days of work than one. Perhaps two for the rest he would need after such a fright. Perhaps none at all. No; Calon would drown himself in work to avoid his Grandmother’s codling. Aside from this, Gondor needed him.
The Steward need know of the presence of such dark enemies. The Captain’s needed to be warned. And since all other witnesses laid slain somewhere outside the city walls, it was up to the stable hand to bring the news to them.