Beneath the Bandages

this is an excerpt from a story im slowly putting together

Beneath the bandages, Telpelin could see Andun’s shattered form. Bloody, bent, torn, smashed, and utterly broken, he was seemingly beyond repair. How could Telpelin even begin to repair this utter destruction?

“You must try,” pleaded soandso. “He is so important…”

I’ll try, thought Telpelin.

“Andun, wake up. Return to us, have faith. Your body is broken, but it may yet be healed; there is still some hope left. I know you are afraid, too afraid to die. But you must not be afraid to live! Come back! You are so important, more than even I can understand.”

There was silence. The very motion of the air in the room came to a standstill, and not a muscle twitched. The moment became a minute, became five, became ten. Nothing. Telpelin’s heart began to race, trying to escape what seemed hopeless.

“Please, Andun, come back from where you are. Do not hide in the shadows! There is much to be lost, but there is even more to be gained. There are more powers in this world than only the forces of evil- know this! You are so precious, please come back.”

Again, nothing happened. The room settled once more into stillness, a kind of sympathetic equilibrium forming in response to the death that lay on the bed.

And then, he moved. Or did he? Telpelin cast a furtive glance, not daring to hope for the impossible. No one needed false hope at this point. And again, something moved. Seemed to move, that is. It was more a feeling of movement, an intention. Telpelin leaned in, his head hovering above Andun’s crushed chest. And there it was, something. A flutter, a beat? No, surely it was only Telpelin’s own heart that filled his head, beating so hard, beating to keep the fear from overcoming him.

“We cannot lose you, Andun,” whispered Telpelin. “Try, try. ‘Do not go quietly into that good night,’” he said. “For all of us, for yourself, allow us, allow me, to help you.”

And then he heard it. A beat, the hope of a beat, and then another. Andun’s heart, though surely ripped and torn, was beating. Telpelin stood up rapidly, his eyes beginning to burn. “He lives,” he managed to say as he quickly left the room.

Outside, beyond the room now filling with gasps of awe and tearful, whispered praises, Telpelin began to weep, sliding down the wall onto the floor. He did all he could to not wail in his sobbing, but he could not contain a few of the more powerful ones. Erasmus somehow appeared at his side. “What is it? What happened?”

“They don’t understand. They don’t know how close he came, how close I came to failing,” choked Telpelin. “There was every possible reason for him to quit this life, every biological argument that he should not survive, every dark power trying their hardest to quench his life. And yet, he is here.”

“You helped him; you are the Telpelin. And he is Andun; that is why he is here.”

Telpelin looked at Erasmus. “He is so scared, Erasmus. Don’t be fooled, like I was. He is so incredibly afraid of death, and almost just as scared of life. He has little hope, and less faith. But perhaps it is true, then, what is said about faith,” continued Telpelin.

“What is that?” asked Erasmus.’

“I’ve heard it said, that faith the size of a mustard seed can move a mountain. I guess it can also save a life. But he needs every power directed in his favor for him to survive, much less recover. We cannot allow him to fall back into the darkness, for his grip on the world is so slight.”

“Why is he so important? I know he is Andunie, but I feel like there is something more that you aren’t telling me. Something, perhaps, you don’t know yourself?”

“I’m not sure. I spoke words, but I’m not sure they were all my own. I do not doubt that he has great purpose, but I believe there must be reasons for his being that we do not yet understand; like me he carries much on his shoulders. But unlike me, he is a mortal man, and he cannot bear this weight alone.”

At this Telpelin looked into Erasmus’s eyes. Erasmus could not help but get cold shivers run down his body. Those grey eyes had looked into the Void, had seen things few others could attest to witnessing. His glance was hard to endure. “He needs us, he needs you. More than he knows; perhaps more than he would ever admit. Never allow him to give up, but if he falters, he will need you to help him. I will not always be here to aid him- do you understand?”

“Yes, I do.”

 

 

 

Andun lived, and yet he was dead, it seemed. He slept so still and so silently that those who attended him, fearing the worst, would frequently check with a spoon or something like under his nose to make sure he was still breathing. His body, fed by the device contrived by Telpelin, slowly, ever so slowly, began to heal itself. He lay in dreamless sleep for many weeks, until he woke up.

His awakening was not momentous event; for he returned to sleep just as quickly as he’d woken. But this time he dreamed. He dreamed he heard a voice in the stillness, his own, but not himself.

“Do not be afraid to live, Andun. Do you understand courage? It is not the absence of fear, but its very presence, yet overcome. It takes much strength to have courage, and this you possess, though it may not seem to you that you have it. You have much fear, but little faith. Fear is the opposite of faith; one cannot exist alongside the other. You were brought up to believe in nothing that cannot be quantified or measured empirically; this you cannot be blamed for. But such things are only half of what is in this life; there are things unseen, things only felt, that cannot be measured or understood. For these things you must use your heart. It is the scale that measures these things, the instrument that is your lamp in that darkness. But neither heart nor mind are meant to be used alone; they are a system, two halves of a whole working in tandem. The heart may be confused, or the mind perplexed; they must draw on the knowledge and wisdom of each other to help one another along the road. They are the pair of oxen that draw the body forward; spirit is their yoke, and the soul their driver. Man is not made of simply flesh, nor is he above the things of the earth. Men are not angels, but neither are they demons. Be not afraid to err, for mistakes are the greatest teacher you have save for the Almighty. Take all of this into account, and sleep once more.”

And so Andun slept again, wandering alone along straight paths.

Author's Note

this is out of context with the rest of the story; dont mind it. this is just a loose sketch