Aramis’ shout cut through the air and d’Artagnan nearly impaled himself on his enemy’s sword due to distraction trying to find his friends. The snow was swirling so thickly that it was a challenge to see the swords flying. d’Artagnan barely managed to dodge a wild swing and responded with a thrust of his own that only just caught the man in the arm. He heard the sounds of steel on steel and the occasional shout but couldn’t make out more than vague outlines of his friends and their combatants. What he was missing was the silhouette of their resident giant and his booming voice.
The young musketeer threw himself back into battle with a renewed ferocity and it took another minute before he was able to dispatch his opponent. He wasted no time running towards where the shout had come from and his blood froze at the sight of the man sprawled on his back with a sword stuck through his heart. Fearing the worse he rushed forward but the face that greeted him was not a familiar one, but the sword in his chest was.
Aramis’ sword stood grotesquely in the air swaying slightly from the wind and the force with which it was abandoned. He turned his eyes to the remaining men standing. Athos was fighting off three men on his own and it took him a moment longer to find Aramis standing by the railing of the bridge hurriedly stripping. The man had already shucked his belts and boots by the time d’Artagnan reached his side and cloak and jacket were immediately shoved into his arms.
“What are you doing?!” He hollered, partially in confusion and partially to be heard of the roaring wind.
“Porthos went over the railing!” Aramis was already climbing over the railing seemingly heedless of the freezing temperatures or the fact that there were large chunks of ice floating in the river below.
“Are you insane?” Aramis wasn’t paying attention anymore in favor of staring at the water below. “He can’t swim!”
d’Artagnan was known for his recklessness but even he knew a hopeless situation when he saw one. As much as it broke his heart he knew if Aramis went in it would be two musketeers they would be burying instead of one. Dropping the cloak and jacket he lunged forward hoping to catch his friend before he made his suicidal dive but the older musketeer was too quick. He could only stare in horror as his friend disappeared under the black depth below.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before Athos came to stand by his side but d’Artagnan found he couldn’t bring himself to look at the other man. “Porthos went over the edge.” His voice was barely audible over the wind. “Aramis went after him.”
Though he had only known the men a relatively short period of time he already felt the loss sharply, he couldn’t imagine what it was like for Athos who had been friends with them for years. He was sure all hope was lost when, just barely visible through the snow, a dark shape broke the surface. A broken off shout echoed through the night but still they recognize the voice of Aramis.
“There they are!” He shouted and with Athos at his heels they ran the length of the bridge and down to the water’s edge. They followed the river downstream where they could make out Aramis struggling in the water, the large still form of Porthos held tightly to his chest. The man struggled to keep them both afloat and moving toward the bank with only one arm to help propel them and more than once his head sunk below the water line only to pop up again moments later. Aramis was struggling to keep Porthos out of the water as much as he could even as the man’s dead weight was dragging him down over and over again. By the time Athos and d’Artagnan caught up with him the man, by some miracle and an inhuman amount of determination, the man had somehow managed to almost make it to shore. D’Artagnan started pulling off his boots and piled his sword and pistols into Athos’ arms followed shortly by his cloak and jacket. He didn’t give the man time to argue before he started wading in.
The water was like ice and immediately stole the breathe from his longs and seemed to sap the strength from his muscles. He couldn’t imagine what it was like spending minutes fully submerged. By the time he reached them the water was already up to his chest and Aramis was clearly at the end of his rope; the man kept slipping more and more frequently beneath the water. When they came within his reached he grabbed Porthos and wrapped one of the man’s arms around his shoulder and Aramis floundered at having his cargo suddenly shifted. It took him a moment to resurface and when he did his eyes were full of hazy confusion. Together they managed to pull their unconscious friend to shore where Athos descended on them, wrapping cloaks and jackets around their shivering forms.
Porthos had been fully clad when he when in but now his hat and cloak were missing along with his pistols and Aramis’ belongings were still on the bridge so they had to make due with two cloaks and jackets though they did little good. “I am going to get a carriage. Try and keep Aramis awake if you can.” Athos said though d’Artagnan’s teeth were chattering so loudly he could barely hear him, but he nodded anyways. As Athos turned and ran off the young musketeer turned to his friend who had taken on a rather sickly shade of blue.
“Yo-o-or-r’e ins-s-sane.” He complained and somehow despite the near drowning and potential hypothermia Aramis smiled, though it was a rather fragile thing. “It was Porthos.”
Nor Will The Flame Burn You 2/6
Aramis’ shout cut through the air and d’Artagnan nearly impaled himself on his enemy’s sword due to distraction trying to find his friends. The snow was swirling so thickly that it was a challenge to see the swords flying. d’Artagnan barely managed to dodge a wild swing and responded with a thrust of his own that only just caught the man in the arm. He heard the sounds of steel on steel and the occasional shout but couldn’t make out more than vague outlines of his friends and their combatants. What he was missing was the silhouette of their resident giant and his booming voice.
The young musketeer threw himself back into battle with a renewed ferocity and it took another minute before he was able to dispatch his opponent. He wasted no time running towards where the shout had come from and his blood froze at the sight of the man sprawled on his back with a sword stuck through his heart. Fearing the worse he rushed forward but the face that greeted him was not a familiar one, but the sword in his chest was.
Aramis’ sword stood grotesquely in the air swaying slightly from the wind and the force with which it was abandoned. He turned his eyes to the remaining men standing. Athos was fighting off three men on his own and it took him a moment longer to find Aramis standing by the railing of the bridge hurriedly stripping. The man had already shucked his belts and boots by the time d’Artagnan reached his side and cloak and jacket were immediately shoved into his arms.
“What are you doing?!” He hollered, partially in confusion and partially to be heard of the roaring wind.
“Porthos went over the railing!” Aramis was already climbing over the railing seemingly heedless of the freezing temperatures or the fact that there were large chunks of ice floating in the river below.
“Are you insane?” Aramis wasn’t paying attention anymore in favor of staring at the water below. “He can’t swim!”
d’Artagnan was known for his recklessness but even he knew a hopeless situation when he saw one. As much as it broke his heart he knew if Aramis went in it would be two musketeers they would be burying instead of one. Dropping the cloak and jacket he lunged forward hoping to catch his friend before he made his suicidal dive but the older musketeer was too quick. He could only stare in horror as his friend disappeared under the black depth below.
He wasn’t sure how long he stood there before Athos came to stand by his side but d’Artagnan found he couldn’t bring himself to look at the other man. “Porthos went over the edge.” His voice was barely audible over the wind. “Aramis went after him.”
Though he had only known the men a relatively short period of time he already felt the loss sharply, he couldn’t imagine what it was like for Athos who had been friends with them for years. He was sure all hope was lost when, just barely visible through the snow, a dark shape broke the surface. A broken off shout echoed through the night but still they recognize the voice of Aramis.
“There they are!” He shouted and with Athos at his heels they ran the length of the bridge and down to the water’s edge. They followed the river downstream where they could make out Aramis struggling in the water, the large still form of Porthos held tightly to his chest. The man struggled to keep them both afloat and moving toward the bank with only one arm to help propel them and more than once his head sunk below the water line only to pop up again moments later. Aramis was struggling to keep Porthos out of the water as much as he could even as the man’s dead weight was dragging him down over and over again. By the time Athos and d’Artagnan caught up with him the man, by some miracle and an inhuman amount of determination, the man had somehow managed to almost make it to shore. D’Artagnan started pulling off his boots and piled his sword and pistols into Athos’ arms followed shortly by his cloak and jacket. He didn’t give the man time to argue before he started wading in.
The water was like ice and immediately stole the breathe from his longs and seemed to sap the strength from his muscles. He couldn’t imagine what it was like spending minutes fully submerged. By the time he reached them the water was already up to his chest and Aramis was clearly at the end of his rope; the man kept slipping more and more frequently beneath the water. When they came within his reached he grabbed Porthos and wrapped one of the man’s arms around his shoulder and Aramis floundered at having his cargo suddenly shifted. It took him a moment to resurface and when he did his eyes were full of hazy confusion. Together they managed to pull their unconscious friend to shore where Athos descended on them, wrapping cloaks and jackets around their shivering forms.
Porthos had been fully clad when he when in but now his hat and cloak were missing along with his pistols and Aramis’ belongings were still on the bridge so they had to make due with two cloaks and jackets though they did little good. “I am going to get a carriage. Try and keep Aramis awake if you can.” Athos said though d’Artagnan’s teeth were chattering so loudly he could barely hear him, but he nodded anyways. As Athos turned and ran off the young musketeer turned to his friend who had taken on a rather sickly shade of blue.
“Yo-o-or-r’e ins-s-sane.” He complained and somehow despite the near drowning and potential hypothermia Aramis smiled, though it was a rather fragile thing. “It was Porthos.”