PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Finn screamed, leaping to her feet as she saw Jalindal disappear into the consuming blackness, and ran, back, screaming for Richard. He was already heading into the forest, as were about a dozen or more others, alerted to the screams. She moved over to him, her eyes searching for him as she ran into him, her arms immediately flying round him, as she buried her head into his shoulder, taking comfort from his solidness, from his sheer realness.



Richard stroked her hair, holding her, knowing that she'd tell him when she could, although he was racked with worry. He knew Jalindal had gone with her. Jalindal hadn't come back with her though.



Finn calmed, stopped crying. She stepped back from him, still retaining a firm grip on his arms, her grip on reality.

“Jalindal...” She gasped, through her sobs, “He, he fell...” Richard looked confused, but nodded,

“Take me there...” He squeezed her hands, resting on his arms, and she nodded, about to burst into tears again.



Finn took his hand, and started pulling him, urgently, insistently, before she let go of his hand, he was moving too slowly for her, and lead him off into the dense forest at a run. He followed, ducking and weaving through the branches, and the leaves. He ran until she stopped, dead still, and he skidded to a stop, his face pale as he saw the gaping hole that opened at their feet. Jalindal couldn't have survived. Impossible. He looked over at her, saw the silent tears running down her face, tears of heartfelt grief, and knew he had to go down there, to get the body and prove it beyond doubt if nothing else. Otherwise she would keep grieving, but keep hoping, wondering. He sighed slightly, looking over at the men who'd followed them, crowding behind them, peering down the hole. A couple made signs against misfortune, the right thumb touching the tips of the fingers on the same hand.

“I'll go down... Get...” He choked on the word 'corpse', couldn't say it. “Get him.” No one questioned his right, and no one volunteered for what would be a disgusting task indeed. She gave a nod, her eyes staring down into the hole, already numb. Richard reached over and squeezed her arm,

“I'll go and get ropes.” One of the men offered. Richard nodded, smiling a slight smile of thanks, trying to control himself. Finn didn't move, her eyes still fixed on the last spot she saw him.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~



“I'm coming with you.” Her voice was cold, determined, detached from all emotion.

“You can't.” Richard sounded impatient. Finn had spent the last ten minutes after the soldier had come back with the rope trying to convince him that she was going down as well. She just couldn't, but she didn't understand. He knew what Jalindal's body would look like, and it wasn't something that he thought that she should see. She just wouldn't accept it. After a flood of questions like 'Why not?' and assumptions that it was because she was a girl, and 'couldn't handle it' he finally gave in.

“Fine!” he snapped, tying the rope roughly around his waist, and then pulling her towards him, and tying her as well, secure now. He made his way to the edge of the hole, and looked down it. A murmur of surprise, of unease swept through the men surrounding the hole.

“You sure you want to go down there?” She bit her lower lip, all of a sudden unsure, then shook her head. Richard nodded. All the better if she didn't come down. He untied her, and then made his way to the edge of the hole, and swung his way down, soon disappearing from her sight. While a man stepped forward, and took her into his arms. A warm embrace was probably what she needed most right now.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Two of the most important people in my life have been eaten by that thing... She thought, her gaze resting on the hole once more, on the deep darkness. Her thoughts were cold. She'd lost him. He was gone. Dead. She could hardly credit it. She bit her lip, holding back tears, feeling the taste of blood on her tongue, and in her mouth. There was a fog rising, that seemed to blur everything around her. She raised a hand to scrub at her eyes, it came away wet. That was odd... she thought, not realising she had tears streaming down her face as she watched  the hole. She hadn't even thought about how it got there, although it must have been made by something. A hunting trap maybe, or a series of caves with the roof very thin. It seemed to point towards the latter, she couldn't see how these caves would have been made by man. There was another sigh from the men surrounding her, but other then that, they were silent. Merely... watching. Waiting.



~ ~ ~ ~ ~



Richard grunted slightly as he slipped a little on the rope, his hands soaked with sweat. He swore under his breath, damn the heat, damn the rope, damn the cave. He wouldn't damn Jalindal, someone might take him seriously. He bit his lower lip as he slipped again, his feet finding no purchase on the slippery wall.  He swore again, this time his curses a little more earthy, no pleas to the Lord to send the cave to suffer eternal damnation. He sighed slightly, looking up at the now small circle of light far above him, and then around. There was a ledge a little to his right. He could steady himself for a moment on that. He started to make his way over to it, before stopping. He stared at the proof he found there that Jalindal had still been alive when he passed. Hand prints. There were two hand prints, smeared to the edge of the sharp, rocky ledge. Smeared in blood, only just visible in the dim light. He must have broken his fall on the ledge.



He decided, abruptly, not to use the ledge, and took a deep breath. He slipped a little further down the rope, and swore. Again. He thought for a second, and then carefully brought his feet from the wall, and slid down the rope, like a fireman's pole. The problem being that the 'fireman's pole' ended about a metre about the cave floor, leaving the 'fireman' to fly off the end, and land flat on his back.



He lay there for a moment, groaning, before reaching around for  torch. He found it, then had another search for his flint, which he found. Eventually. He flicked it, once. Twice. Thrice, and the torch lit, glowed for a moment, then flared, as the oil caught on fire, flooding the cave with light. He looked up at the walls, which were suddenly lit, astonished. The lowest couple of metres were covered, completely, in a magnificent painting, like a mural, of a crowd of people, bowing to a shining figure, who held a bell in one hand that glowed and shined, and a small hammer in the other hand,  it was gorgeous, and there was some kind of writing on the bell, and, now he looked up at the upper walls, writing on there as well. He stood, brushing off the seat of his pants, wincing slightly, and turned slowly, looking for the bloody spectacle that would now be Jalindal, tearing his surveillance from the writings and paintings on the wall. He bit his lower lip as he looked, not seeing any obvious signs of what he was looking for. He cried out, and jumped, as he turned, and saw a soft glow hanging from the wall behind him, swaying slightly. It was a bell, softly glowing, and perfect, just like it was in the paintings. Suddenly a figure blocked the light, standing suddenly to be in between Richard and the bell. Richard stepped back, and dropped the torch as he did. It spluttered and almost went out, before he snatched it up. Who was that? He stepped forward, trying to see who it was, trying not to let his hope rise as his heart rate fell again, and his breath returned to him. It was Jalindal, and Richard let out a joyous whoop as he realised who it was, running over. He threw his arms around Jalindal in a completely un-masculine display, whooping again, and distracting Jalindal from his contemplation of the gold bell that hung in front of him,  eery in the light. The inscription on the side playing in the light. It was strange for a moment... the runes archaic, almost... almost evil looking. It stayed that way for a moment, before glowing slightly, and shifting again, into an Elvish script this time. Then, again, into the common tongue, it's antics unnoticed by the rejoicing men.



From the sky above, you plummet down

Into dark, here no light be found

Upon this bell you read the script

This shimmer of light in the darkened pit

Welcome to my home, bravest seeker

Strike me hard be none the meeker

Let my sound go through and through

Let my ring envelope you

Or turn your tail and go back above

Back to the things that you so love.

But what would happen had you rung

What gorgeous notes could I have sung

Let these questions drive you mad

What would have happened if you had?