My Sword Weeps
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 33: Help Too Late
Ragnhild gave orders to Aerin to stay
with the
woman of Rohan and then bid Hathawyn farewell. Slowly she walked back
to the inn. Her mind was awhirl. She had not wanted to put the young
ones in harm’s way, at least not without her by their side, but the
separation could not be helped. Targon was fourteen and well-versed in
Gondor’s weal; Aerin was near sixteen and a veteran of the Houses of
Healing. Both children knew to keep their tongues silent. They would be
good spies, as Targon himself had well proved in Minas Tirith.
Before she reached the inn, she heard the noise – the sound of an
angry crowd. She hurried forward. There before the crowd, on the steps
of the inn, stood the brothers, her guards. Their hands were tied and
they were being taken away. Her heart caught in her throat. The scene
was so reminiscent of the battle at the Fountain in the Citadel that
tears sprang to her eyes. She could not, would not lose these men! But
what could she do?
Targon stood well behind. She caught his eye and he nodded and began to
make his way to her side. She turned towards a man on her right. “What
is happening? I am concerned,” she said at his questioning look, “for I
have a room at this inn. Are they thieves?”
“Nay! I heard they were traitors. The Lord Dagnir will take care of
them. Tarnost is faithful to the Stewards and none will harm them as
long as Lord Dagnir rules Tarnost.”
The fervor in the man’s voice made her look at him in surprise.
“You are not from here.” It was not a question.
“Nay. I am from Rohan. But I visited Minas Tirith just a short time
ago.”
“Well, you will find none more faithful to Gondor than the lord of
Tarnost. He is ever vigilant for traitors.”
“Are there many in Gondor?” But her question was never answered,
for at that very moment, a horse, startled by the violence of the
crowd, reared up, catching Targon’s head with its hooves. The lad fell
forward, knocked senseless.
Ragnhild screamed and ran forward, thoughts of Boromir’s death
enveloping her. ‘Not another!’ her heart cried wildly.
“Make way. Please, make way! I am a healer. I can help the lad,”
she cried as she pushed and shoved the crowd aside. At last, she
reached his body. He lay twisted, but she had not the time to be
concerned with his limbs; rather, her attention was drawn to the head
wound. It gushed with blood, as all head wounds do. She moved his hair
aside. ‘Only a small cut.’ She turned him on his back and pulled his
lids up, one at a time. The pupils, in the bright sun, stayed small.
Miserably she shook her head; curses passed her lips. Rohirric curses.
She knew none there would know what she said, but she clamped her mouth
closed anyhow. Better not to give the angry crowd further cause for
alarm – a stranger in their midst. But the crowd seemed bent on
harrying their prisoners and paid no mind to her. She lifted her face
and saw the man she had spoken with earlier standing at her side.
“The boy has aivotärähdys – Oh! What is it in the common
tongue? A
concussun. Will you help me? Will you take him to my room? In the inn.
I am a healer. I think I can help.”
~*~
Aragorn could not endure another moment. He stood, saw Elrohir’s
questioning eyes, and shrugged. Quietly, he stepped over the sleeping
Rohir. Crouching next to his brother, he smiled wanly.
“I can lie still no longer. I will ride out a little ways, just to do a
quick search of the road, see if any are about.” His brow furrowed. “I
cannot sleep.”
"I will go with you," Elrohir stated flatly.
"Nay," Aragorn said and his voice was firm. "I know this road and this
land almost as well as Erkenbrand. I will not stray from the road. If
anything untoward should happen, I promise I will not engage the enemy,
nor be drawn into any battle. I will return here and seek your help."
He stared at Elrohir. "I cannot stay here. I will find no rest." His
voice held such anguish that Elladan turned.
Elrohir handed him the flask of miruvor. "Take this with you. If you do
find the Steward, this should help. If you have not returned by the
midnight hour, I will follow and I will thrash you senseless." He
smiled and hugged Aragorn roughly. "You are precious to me, brother."
“Whether you want it or no, I will go with you, Estel.” The Elf turned
quickly towards Elrohir. “We will only be gone a short time – just to
travel the road for an hour or so. My heart, too, bears distress. I
feel as if something terrible has happened, or is about to, and the
need for help is great.”
Aragorn clasped Elladan’s shoulder, gratitude spilling from his eyes.
“We will not look for trouble, Elrohir, but will just patrol. If
trouble finds us, we will turn and come back here. Then, we will face
it together.”
“So I am left to sit here?”
“Give us an hour and one back, then, I promise, I will come back and
rest.”
Elladan smiled and mounted his own horse. Within moments, they were
beyond the fire’s light.
Aragorn kept to the road, watching for signs of travel. In a short
time, the sun set. He swore quietly. ‘Hard to track in the dark. Yet,
if someone comes along, we will hear them.’
They had ridden only a short time when Elladan turned to face Aragorn.
“After this, what will you do, Estel?”
Aragorn looked at his brother in surprise. “Return to my Ranger
duties.”
“Gondor would be ripe for her king’s return.”
Aragorn pulled his horse up. “What are you saying, Elladan?”
“That a six-year old should not govern your land. That your people need
you. That no one would question your reign if you went now, told them
who you are, take what is rightfully yours. It is the perfect time.
Gondor needs you. And,” Elladan’s voice lowered, “You would have Arwen
at your side.”
Aragorn took a long, deep breath. The sound of it scraping past his
teeth surprised Elladan. “I spoke out of turn. I am sorry.”
“The same thoughts have run through my mind,” Aragorn said finally.
“And I took them seriously, but I think it is the worst time. Gondor
reels with pain. Her Steward murdered by Orcs, Boromir killed by his
own lords, Faramir under some spell, and Indis trying to keep Gondor
together. Can you not imagine the confusion if I came forward?
“Ah, yes. Here I am, out of the north to claim the throne that the
Stewards hold belongs to Anárion’s line, but I will take it.
Nay,
Elladan. Some might accept me because of their fear of being
leaderless, but soon, they would wonder and question. Certain lords
would plot further treason. If there are those who rebel now, with a
Steward in the line of Mardil Veronwë already in place, what is to
stop
them from rebelling if I try to take the throne now? Kin-strife would
wield its ugly head again. I cannot do this.
“If Faramir dies, Indis will lead them. She is strong and the people
love and respect her. Let Gondor heal, then I will meet with her. She
suspects, I think, of my place in Gondor. Her father was no fool.
Neither was Denethor. She will prepare our people, over time, to accept
my claim. That is the wiser course; I would…”
Elladan held up his hand and immediately, Aragorn stopped speaking. The
Elf motioned to a spot ahead of them, but Aragorn saw nothing. Elladan
pulled his horse closer to his brother’s, put his finger to his lips,
leaned over and whispered, “There is a speck of light ahead of us.”
Aragorn nodded, though he saw nothing, and slid from his horse. Elladan
joined him on the ground. The Elf whispered to the horses, then,
leaving them, moved slowly forward. Aragorn followed in his footsteps.
Swords were drawn with nary a sound.
After a few moments, Aragorn was able to see the light. Silently, they
approached it.
Elladan, sensing the smell of Orcs, forgot Aragorn’s promise to
Elrohir; all memory vanished but the pain-filled face of his mother.
His skin prickled as anger and hatred drove all other thought from him.
Clenching his teeth, he swung his sword slowly in an arc, preparing to
avenge her once again. He began to shake as battle lust filled his
fëa.
The predator stepped forward, the Elf left behind. He had become a
killing machine again.
Aivotärähdys - concussion
