The nightmare started like this. Milford was running. He couldn't think of an exact location, but there was only a black background of nothingness. He was panting and sweating as if he'd been running a long time. What was he running from, he, nor his brain, didn't know.
The longer it lasted, the more tired Milford looked. Then he cried out and stumbled to the surface of nothing.
From the way it looked, the thing kept coming towards him until Milford shouted so loud that he woke up in a pool of sweat.
Tears were forming down his eyes. He wiped them away quickly.
When he finally decided to inhale a breath, he gasped and sputtered. He was choking on his own spittle. At least it felt like it was his spittle.
The noises were so loud that Max sat up from his bed with a start and stared at him for only about half a second before they realized what was going on.
"Oh, dude!" he cried out as he jumped out of his bed.
Milford allowed his eyelids to fall as he lost consciousness.
Thrusts. Hard thrusts were occurring on Milford's chest. They were like the roughest kind of pulse, and they happened over and over.
He could feel them getting more effective.
Finally, Milford's eyes shot open to find Horomir's hands on his chest pumping over and over. His t-shirt was partially ripped so that his chest was being shown. Max was sobbing in a corner as if it was all his fault. His savior's expression was one of worry.
After about five seconds of silence, Milford felt the bile rise from his stomach and out his mouth. He moved over to his right to let it all come out onto the floor.
The moment Max heard the sounds of puke flowing, his crying became somewhat louder than before.
When everything was over, Horomir was still staring at Milford, his hand still over his beating heart.
Horomir opened his mouth, hesitated, then said, "Get some rest," and vanished into thin air.
It took Milford a while to even get up from the floor. He felt weak. Every time he thought of something to cheer him up, it all led up to the nightmare.
When he finally stood up, he stumbled. "I can't do this. I can't do this," he thought over and over again.
His throat burned from the aftertaste of the bile. It was sickening.
Milford decided to go look at himself in the nearby mirror next to his bed. For whatever reason, it was cracked.
Milford looked at disgusting reflection. He saw his tear-stricken eyes. He also spotted bags under his eyes from lack of sleep. He turned to his left and saw that it was sunrise. Nobody was walking outside yet.
Milford then heard Max puff out a huge sigh, then stand up. They weren't facing him.
"I... I can't help you, Milford," Max stated as he turned to face Milford. "I-if I'm supposed to help y-you with self-esteem, then I can't do it."
"Max you don't-"
"LISTEN TO ME!" Max snapped.
They stared.
Max looked as if he wanted to murder Milford for a second, but the look vanished as soon as it had come.
"Sorry..." Max pleaded as he started to walk out the door.
Milford gave the same look he did to Horomir the night before as they were walking out the door to Max. That made Max change their own route at the last second. They jumped on their bed without pulling any covers on him, and Milford did the same thing ironically.
For six hours, he couldn't fall asleep. He kept thinking about past events, and couldn't take his mind off them. He was scared. Honest to God, he was truly scared.
Milford tried to calm himself, but it was all useless.
The band t-shirt he was wearing was the only thing he could look at or think of that was happy. But even that was ripped from Horomir's chest pumping.
Finally, he heard the sounds of commotion outside. It was more than a few hours, but it felt like only a thirty minutes at most for Milford.
He sat up and noticed that Max wasn't in his bed. Or anywhere to be seen for that matter.
Milford climbed out of his bed to see what was going on. He opened the door slowly.
He could finally hear the screams outside clearer.
There were also the sounds of flames, and they were crackling louder than any other fire he ever heard.
He felt the sudden rush of heat fit his face as he stepped outside.
Milford's eyes widened as all of the information hit his mind.
He started running.
The rush of wind in his face felt cooler than the nearby fire.
The closer and closer he got, the smoke became harder to breathe in.
Coughs came out. The kind of coughs where you couldn't stop doing it when you already started.
Milford's eyes got watery. He felt his eyes getting pink as he shortcutted through the sides of the cabins to get closer to the fire.
Finally, he saw the first sign of flame. There was a Mondollion child that came into sight from the smoke. He didn't look even eight. There was a hint of fire on their brown robe, where there was black ash surrounding them that they must've shooed away earlier.
The two of them just stared at each other waiting for someone to say something. Their eyes had met and would not leave each other.
They then ran past Milford, bumping into him in the process.
Milford just stared back. Wherever the Mondollion child's parents were, he didn't know. Then, after five seconds, they turned to the smoke and ran in.
The coughing came to him again soon after as Milford started heading to no real destination.
Then, he found the main source of the fire. It was a giant ball of it that made up possibly a cabin, now lost. The person standing in front of it was none other than Marcus, the man Horomir was talking to just last night. Milford could only see their back.
Marcus was standing in front of a giant fireball, probably where he started the inferno. In his hand was a bottle of ale, half empty, half full.
Milford, on the other hand, was crouching behind a corner, peeking so that they couldn't see him if he turned around.
Then, Milford heard a voice. It sounded very hoarse. "You will never get away with this..."
It was Horomir.
On the ground, arms out, behind a toppled table they were, in the flesh. They looked like they'd just been mugged, with black eyes, their left arm bending the wrong way, and bruises located on their face.
"Shut your mouth, fool, or I'll break the other one," Marcus grumbled harshly.
"You don't get it. You need other people to get the job done. You're not a leader. You're only step one into an incomplete plan."
"SHUT UP!" Milford flinched at the sound of a major bone cracking and a cry.
Marcus only raised up their left hand to do that, so then Milford got extremely scared by the fact that he should leave or he would die.
He needed to see if Horomir would live, though.
"I tried to help you. I tried to reason with you, but you refused. Therefore, I-I can't try anymore, because I know you'll say no. If you must, kill me," Horomir mumbled.
"No," Milford kept repeating in his mind. "Don't do it. Please don't kill him. Not them," he pleaded to the heavens.
He didn't understand why Horomir had to die like this, their entire village being destroyed along with them.
Marcus looked at Horomir with a squint, then a smirk. They put their hands up.
Milford didn't even think.
It was like it was in slow motion, but he ran as fast as he could towards Marcus and pushed him into the fire.
Well, sort of.
They looked at Milford at the last second and cried out as soon as his hands were on him. He fought back, but not hard enough, forgetting to use his power somehow. About three seconds after that, though, Marcus toppled headfirst into the ball of fire. Half of the roof toppled on it, extinguishing it.
Milford felt like he already won the battle that somehow took him to the village in the first place, covered in dust and bruises.
Horomir just stared at them, smirking, not even looking surprised.
"Yes, I knew you were there all the time, but I didn't want to give you away to him."
Milford didn't need to respond. He just kept panting.
"Well, thank yo-"
Horomir never finished that sentence.
It happened immediately. A hole appeared in the middle of Horomir's stomach and a look of suprise fell upon his face.
Behind him was Marcus, hands raised.
Horomir toppled over, but Milford caught him, being pushed down to a crouching position.
Horomir was struggling to speak, spluttering blood from his mouth. One droplet of blood flew onto Milford's face. That's when the tears fell.
Marcus's hands were shaking as Horomir's eyes became blank, still fixated on Milford. No shaky breathing was coming from them anymore.
Milford snapped his head up to face Marcus and almost yelled, but they were already gone.
He quickly turned his head back down and saw that Horomir's eyes were now staring at nothing. Everything at that moment, what he was thinking to what he was doing, was blank.
Milford then set him down gently, delicately.
For about 30 minutes, he did nothing but stare at Horomir as the tears would still slowly flow down his face. He just wanted to take a good last look at them before they were buried.
There was no more fire. No more screams coming from innocent.
Then, Milford heard many footsteps coming from behind him, where he had entered before. It was probably a rescue team or something.
A group of Mondollions, tall and short together, came rushing in and saw the wreck that had once been a cabin.
"What happened? What happened?" A familiar voice, Milford thought.
Ajax, the tall and muscular Mondollion that had reprimanded both earlier, pushed through the crowd with actual worry on his face.
Milford, not facing them, slowly but surely got up, Horomir still in his arms.
He was heavy, really was, but Milford didn't shake or struggle.
Then, shutting his eyes, he turned around, showing them Horomir.
Some gasps escaped from a couple of people's mouths. Others just hung their head down softly. Ajax just stared blankly, their bottom lip quivering. Nobody spoke a word. It was just a moment of silence for Horomir.
Milford wanted to cry. He had a sudden urge to, but he couldn't. Even if he tried, nothing would come out.
