Disclaimer: Everything is the Professor's.
Author's Note: A two part drabble for the 'Red' challenge. A little experiment in parallel drabbling.
The blade is ruby ‘crusted and his flesh also; a crimson smear upon his jaw and speckled like a pox across his ruddy cheek. He bellows a war cry, lungs wet and feeble but voice strong and defiant.
He is lifted quick in strong, hard hands and wrapped tight in pale cloth.
“Tell the Steward that his wife is very weak, but will live, I think. We had to cut and she lost much blood.” Rubies drip from warmed steel and the bedding is red-soaked, like the scarlet cloth of the Easterlings. “Tell him also that he has another son.”
The blade is ruby ‘crusted and his flesh also; a crimson smear upon his jaw and speckled like a pox across his pale cheek. He moans softly, his lungs wet and feeble. Black shafts pierce his steel carapace, blood dark and red on bright metal.
He is lifted gently by strong, hard hands and placed with concerned care upon a straw-strewn cart, bound for the healers.
“Tell the Steward that his son is very weak.” The soldier’s hands are sticky and scarlet-stained. “He has lost much blood; I cannot say if he will live. Denethor may yet mourn another son.”