My Sword Weeps
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 19: Ice and Snow
The ground gave way suddenly and Aragorn
felt
his horse slipping from under him. As quickly as he could he slid off
the horse, trying vainly to hit the ground standing. Yet, there was no
ground. He was sinking into freezing cold water. Flailing about, trying
desperately to stay afloat, he found he could not. His clothes dragged
him further into the depths of the water; it was up to his neck and
finally covered his face. He had but one moment to take a breath and
then…
“Estel!” he faintly heard Elrohir scream. As the cold pervaded his
body, he began to gasp and struggle for air. Still, try as he might, he
could not surface. He knew he was drowning. Dimly, he wondered where
his mount was and if the poor beast still lived. His eyes were closed;
that surprised him. He opened them and discovered darkness, a darkness
so complete that it took what little breath he had away. He stripped
his cloak off and let it drop. Now he knew which way was up. He kicked
off his boots and, sadly, clawed at the belt that held his sword and
scabbard, released the buckle and let them fall. Taking off his tunic,
he kicked furiously, his arms desperately reaching for the surface. His
hands were growing numb; he only had a moment left.
Another hand touched his, he was sure of it! His head broke water and
he gasped for air. “Estel!” he heard the call again, this time even
fainter. He knew he had only to grasp the hand, but he didn’t think he
had feeling enough in his own hands to do something that simple. The
dilemma was solved for him; whatever hand was upon his, roughly grasped
his own hand and pulled hard. Slowly, too slowly, he was pulled from
the water, then dragged across – ice? He began to shiver
uncontrollably. The hand pulled him even further away from his tomb.
“Run to the paddock and get help!” Elrohir screamed. Elladan ran.
Elrohir quickly stripped Aragorn of all his clothing, and began to rub
the man’s arms and legs. After but moments, he took off his own cloak,
tunic, undershirt and leggings. He dressed Aragorn and then pulled him
tightly towards him. Sitting on the ground and wrapping his arms around
his brother’s torso, he held tight, whispering quietly into his
brother’s ear. “Do not leave me, Estel. Do not go. I am here. I will
help you. Please,” he said louder as the shivering stopped. “No!” he
whispered furiously for the shivering was the body’s defense against
the cold. “Fight, Estel. You must fight. Hold on.”
~*~
“It is an Elf, my Lord! Running through the snow!”
The surprise in the man’s voice echoed the thought in Erkenbrand’s.
‘What is an Elf doing in the Riddermark and why?’ he asked himself. The
company stood at attention, hands on weapons and stance ready for
battle. An Elf running alone meant danger. He strode forward to meet
this apparition.
“Halt! You are trespassing upon the Riddermark. Be gone else I must
perforce take you to my Lord.”
“Help!” Elladan cried as loudly as he could. “We must have help.”
Erkenbrand stood stunned. ‘Something is amiss. Elves do not ask for
help.’ He put his hand to the pommel of his sword and stood straighter.
“What manner of help need you?” he called back.
“We found a man fallen into a lake. We have rescued him, but he needs
warmth and dry clothes. Please,” Elladan begged as he came near the
camp, “please help us.”
“Mount and go with him!” Erkenbrand shouted and motioned to three
men standing behind him. The men quickly mounted; one grabbed Elladan’s
arm and helped him swing up behind him; they urged their horses into a
gallop that took them in the direction that the Elf had come.
“Get a fire ready and some warm clothes,” Erkenbrand commanded. “And
some mulled mead.”
The stallions raced across the snow; bred for such travel, they flew
like the wind. Holding loosely to the man before him, Elladan reveled
in the beauty of these horses. In less than half an hour he espied
Elrohir and Aragorn.
“There! There!” he screamed to the man and pointed ahead of them.
The man shouted to his companions and pulled ahead of them. Quickly
closing the gap between the Elves and the men of the Mark, he pulled up
sharply. Elladan jumped from the horse before it had even stopped.
He knelt next to his brother and took Aragorn’s bitter cold hand in his
own. “He lives?”
Elrohir nodded. The men had reached them by this time and
dismounted. Throwing a blanket to Elrohir, the men stood back, not sure
what to say or do. Elrohir wrapped Aragorn in the blanket, stood and
looked at Elladan.
“Will you pass him to me, Elladan?” He gave the limp body to his
brother.
Jumping upon the largest stallion, he bent low and Elladan gently
lifted his brother up into Elrohir’s waiting arms. One of the men made
as if to stop them when their leader pulled his arm back.
Pulling the reins and turning the horse westward, he slapped the flank
of the horse. “Ride!” he shouted. The horse took off in a rush.
~*~
“I cannot spare Gorlim. I dare not go forward with only
Théodred,” she
told Listöwel quietly. “My dearest sister-friend,” she almost
sobbed,
“I would not send you away so lightly protected, but I must.”
Listöwel held her friend close. “I knew the dangers, dearest
Indis,
when I forced myself upon you and this journey. My heart will be with
you as we ride eastward. I know,” she paused and swallowed, “I know you
think you are doing only the best for Faramir. I will trust you, as
always.”
She found her chin shaking as unshed tears fought to spill. “I know
you trust me. Your friendship and trust have always succoured me.
Faramir will die. I am certain of that, as is Siriondil. I know it
seems folly to be out here, in the wild, taking him to a legend that
may not exist, but I must do it. Even if my own life is forfeit. That
others have shed their blood for their Steward is horrid to think upon,
but their devotion to Faramir is the same as mine. They,” she stopped.
“Baranor knew the risks.”
“As do we all, Indis. Be strong. I will not stay at the fortress, but
will find the captain and return to you as soon as possible. Please, I
know this is foolish to even ask, but please be careful. You are all I
have left.” She threw her arms about Indis, hugged her tightly, then
mounted her horse.
Siriondil sat with the unconscious Gildor before him. He clicked and
the horse started forward. Waving, Listöwel followed.
“We may never see them again, Théodred.” She turned towards the
boy
standing next to her. “We go forward now, westward. You have kept your
promise almost to the death of Faramir. I will no longer hide anything
from you. He will die, and soon. Would you not leave us when the road
we travel turns northward? You can stay on the Great West Road and
return to your home. Your oath would have been fulfilled.”
He looked at her and the amazement in his eyes did not surprise
her. “Leave you and Gorlim alone? I cannot do that, my Lady, even if I
had no oath to bear. I know Faramir is close to death. I have witnessed
battle wounds before. I stay because I love him. If I may suggest
something?”
“Of course.”
“Why do we not travel towards Edoras? We can ask my father to send
men with us. He will do that. He dearly loved the Steward and will do
anything for his son.”
“Théodred. Every hour we spend traveling in the wrong direction
is
another hour taken away from Faramir’s life. I cannot do that. Perhaps,
if you wished to ride to Edoras for help when we turn north…”
He held up his hand to stop her. “Do not offer that path again, my
Lady. I will not leave his side, not until we bury him in the halls of
his fathers.”
His gaze was unyielding. She shivered; then entered the wagon.
Théodred
stepped onto the wagon seat and took the reins in his hands. Gorlim
rode beside them. They headed westward.
