My Sword Weeps
by Agape4Rivendell
Chapter 42: A Secret Revealed
Elladan looked long and hard at his
friend, his
brother. Ever since Aragorn had returned eight years ago from
Lórien,
he had been changed. His brother never spoke a word, but there had been
harsh words between him and their father. After that, Aragorn had gone
north and west for long years. He would return for short visits and, if
the twins were home, they would talk long into the night – about
serious things, like the Rangers, Morgoth, the village of Bree, Hobbits
and their land, and then – there would be silence and Elladan grieved,
for he knew his brother was keeping something from them.
As he looked now upon Aragorn, holding ever so gently the little
boy, Elladan wondered if it was family. Was Aragorn ready to wed? Was
his brother longing for children? Elladan knew that Aragorn loved his
sister, Arwen, but also knew that any relationship other than friends
was wholly unacceptable to Elrond.
Aragorn looked up at him. His brow furrowed. “What?”
Elladan smiled. “Would you like some water? You’ve been singing for
over an hour. I know you are not used to singing. I have heard that
your brother Rangers discourage you, when you open your mouth.” He
chuckled.
Aragorn smiled back at him. “I am quite parched. Water would be good.”
When Elladan returned with the flask, Aragorn continued, “Your
reasoning as to why I am asked not to sing is flawed. I embarrass them
by the beauty of my voice.”
This time, Elladan saw Aragorn’s shoulders shaking in mirth. “I am
mistaken then,” he said genially. He went back to the fire and put more
logs on. “I will return in a moment.” He took the small bucket and went
through the cave’s entrance.
When he returned, Aragorn noted the little bucket was piled high with
snow. The Elf put the bucket on the rock that overhung the fire. Then,
he returned to Aragorn’s side. Crouching down, he put his hand on
Aragorn’s shoulder. “Too long have you hidden things from those who
love you.”
Aragorn looked at him, quizzically. “I know not of what you speak.”
“You are lonely?”
Aragorn’s eyes lit in understanding. “I am as lonely as any Ranger out
in the wild.”
“But you might have found someone?”
“I have.” Aragorn looked into his brother’s eyes and saw hurt there.
“The one I love is not allowed. Not yet.”
“Is there aught I might do? Mayhap I could speak with her father. Tell
him what a good catch you are.”
Aragorn saw that the Elf’s eyes were serious. “It is not that easy. I
have been appointed a task that will take many,” and his brow lifted,
“many years.”
“Do you see her often?”
“Not in eight years. Mayhap, when we return Faramir to Minas Tirith, I
will visit her. She lives some distance from Imladris.”
Elladan chewed this new piece of information over. “She will wait this
long?”
“She has the patience of an Elf.”
Elladan stood up in surprise. “Arwen! You love Arwen more than as
sister!”
Aragorn bowed his head and resumed the lullaby. After a few moments, he
looked up. “Do you now hate me?”
Elladan sat down next to him. “I believe speaking to the father would
be useless.”
Aragorn choked back something between a sob and a laugh.
“We will return through Lórien,” Elladan said firmly. “The road
is
closer. I want to spend some time, if this meets your approval, with
the Marchwarden, Haldir. We have met and fought together. There are
things happening that bear discussion.”
He brought tea over and helped Éomund sit. Gently he let a few
drops of
the tea fall into the Rohir’s mouth. After he was finished, he laid the
man gently back down, then walked to Aragorn. “Here. I think you should
try again. The boy seems to be resting more comfortably.”
Aragorn took the proffered cup and held it to Faramir’s lips. The
boy swallowed a few of the precious drops. Once again, Aragorn put his
hand on the child’s heads and whispered the healing words. There was no
reaction this time. Aragorn bit his lip. “I do not understand this. My
medicaments do not seem to have any affect on whatever holds the boy in
thrall.”
“Give it time, Estel. He has responded twice now. Mayhap he sleeps
more deeply.” He offered the water flask to Aragorn who took another
swallow and gave it back. “I will get more snow.”
Aragorn began to sing once again to Faramir. Smiling, he was
gladdened that he had drunk the water. It definitely helped. After many
more moments, Aragorn began to be concerned. Elladan had not returned.
He grit his teeth and swore softly. He should not have let him go
alone. He shook his head. ‘No need to worry. Elrohir has probably found
us.’ He started the lullaby where he had left off.
~*~
“There is someone in the cave, Captain. We are not sure how many. They
do not appear to be Orcs.”
“The mouth? How is it? Large enough for more than one?”
“Just one, Captain.”
He swore quietly. “Take five men with you. You know the drill. Be
careful. They may be friend but we know not.”
“Aye, Captain. We will signal when it is done.”
He waved them off. Indis sat up straighter. “They will watch for your
company, Lady Indis. Do not be afraid.”
“Éomund has not recovered full strength to his sword arm from
our
previous journey, but I do not doubt that he can harm your men. I hope
they are careful.”
Durahil smiled. Always, Indis carried such loyalty for the people who
served her. He recognized in this moment, as his hand wrapped firmly
around her waist, that he loved her. He blushed in shame. She was newly
widowed. She was older and higher born than he. He had no right.
She patted his hand. “I have not thanked you for rescuing us.”
“Again, my Lady, I must say that it is because of Listöwel that we
arrived when we did. When they came to my garrison, I would have sent
her back to Minas Tirith. She like unto bit off my head.”
Indis began to laugh, then quickly gasped.
“A head wound hurts for many days. Even the slightest movement
brings pain. Lay back against me whilst we wait for my men to return.”
“Has Théodred woken yet?”
Durahil turned and beckoned to the rider that had Théodred in
his
care. When the man pulled up next to them, Durahil asked, “How fares
the boy?”
“Let him tell you himself,” the warrior smiled.
Indis cried in delight. “Théodred!” She would have lunged for
him,
but Durahil held her close. “Are you well? What injuries have you?”
“The Master Healer already has determined that I will recover, Indis.
And you? How are you?”
“Only a head wound and healing quickly. I can almost ride myself.”
The boy smiled at her bravado. “The same here.” He broke into
laughter. Then, suddenly, his eyes pooled with tears. “Faramir is
dead?” And at the spoken word, the tears spilled over.
“We do not know, Prince Théodred,” Durahil replied as Indis
herself
was too overcome to answer. “We know not exactly where they were left.
We are taking you to a cave. Mayhap it is the same one that you were
captured in. If so, we may find out what has happened to Marshal
Éomund
and to Steward Faramir. Be not disheartened. They may yet live.”
