Lapsus Memoriae [Rávamë's Bane: Book 1]

Part II : Chapter 14 ~ A Thorn In My Side

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They were at it again.

For the past three hours, Aragorn and Boromir had been having repeated variations of the same conversation over and over again. The words changed, but the unspoken grating tension was exactly the same. The latest version sounded something like this:

"There must have been a simpler path to Lothlórien than this."

"Perhaps once there was. Pray, what kind of path were expecting?"

"A plain road. Even a dirt track. Not… this." As if to emphasise the point, Boromir's boot caught on a stray root. He stumbled and I almost ran straight into the back of him. I guess he was internally ruing the fact that he hadn't insisted we take his advice and go via the Gap of Rohan.

Aragorn barely slowed in his jog from the front of the line, leading us all over the rough terrain of the Misty Mountain foothills as nimbly as a gazelle. He did manage to shoot an annoyed glance at Boromir over one shoulder, his voice taking on a surly tone.

"Any safe path we could follow would likely be watched. Through the wilds is our safest option. Unless of course you would rather return through the road within Moria? Or the scale the mountains back to the West?"

Boromir gave him a look that could have scoured rust off sheet metal.

"Just lead on, ranger. Our path still remains treacherous."

Good God. I wondered if all men of Gondor were this crabby when they were tired…

Despite the endless alpha male bickering going on between the two Men of our company, I was grateful there was something to draw the attention of the others — however annoying a distraction it was. Gandalf's absence was still weighing on us all, especially the hobbits, although most had seemed to be postponing their grief for a safer time. They ran ahead of me, just behind Gimli who was keeping up well without complaint, despite all huffing and puffing.

We'd been going like that for half the day by then, and even though my wound was still hidden, it's effects were becoming noticeably worse the further we went. Weirdly, it really didn't hurt as much as you'd expect — not even after hours of running. I was much slower than I'd been through Moria, keeping a steady but strained pace a little behind Boromir. I guess the lack of pain was mostly due to the pain relief draught and miruvor I'd downed earlier. But I knew if I hadn't taken it, I'd have been doubled over with agony by now.

It was the other symptoms that were my bigger problem.

I was getting progressively thirstier the further we ran, and where the pain in my side should have been, there was a lazy numbness that was very slowly making it's way up my side. I knew that wasn't a good sign, but still I kept quiet, determined to just take longer, more frequent gulps from my water skin and keep running.

Yeah, I know. Off the scale of madness.

But I wasn't so mad — yet — that I didn't make sure to keep a close eye on my heartbeat and breathing. Aragorn had been right; we needed to get out of the open by night fall, and I couldn't slow the others down now. Not at the risk of stopping and leaving us vulnerable to the orc packs roaming the area. But I also knew Tink had been right on one point — if the numbness spread any higher up my side, or started across my chest to my heart, I'd have no choice but to stop.

Goblins were ugly, violent, collectively dull witted creatures. But from my studies of them back in Rivendell's library, I knew they were hell on wheels when it came to poison making.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Legolas asked me quietly when I stumbled over my own feet for the seventh time in an hour.

"I'm fine. Just getting tired…" I answered breathlessly, though this time I didn't try to force a faux smile past the wave of nausea. They were coming more frequently, along with the dizzy spells.