Toil and Danger

Summery: Thirty years before the War of the Ring, while wandering through Gondor, Aragorn finds himself injured, and in need of help. The woman who heals him is as much in need of his help as he of her's, but can they each give up their pride and defenses and accept the aide that is offered?

Medical disclaimer: I am not a doctor, nurse or expert in anyway shape or form in medical matters. This story is a work of fiction, and not intended to be used as a guide in medical matters. The diseases/injuries/ cures included in this narrative are what best serve the author's needs for plot devices etc.

Other Disclaimer: I do not own, nor did invent/discover, any of the places, events, characters, et cetera, of the original Lord of the Rings stories. They belong to Prof. Tolkien. However, I do lay claim to some original characters in this story and the events pertaining to them. Furthermore, I do not own the rights to the song at the end of this Chapter. I do not know if or who does, but no copyright infringement was intended.

If anyone knows anything else I need to disclaim to avoid prosecution, drop me a note in your review and I will correct the problem.

Please, no burn reviews! I welcome constructive criticism, but if you hate this story for reasons other than it is plainly badly written, please do not punish me. Just go read one of the many, many wonderful stories on this site and make those authors happy.

I apologise in advance for the formatting problems that will undoubtedly occur. The first time I upload any story the formatting is horrible. I will fix it as soon as I can

Chapter 1- Wayfaring Stranger

Aragorn sank wearily to his knees and let his head hang down, sweat and blood running down his face. He gazed at the half dozen orc bodies that lay strewn about him, their black blood and his crimson staining the white snow that lay in a thick blanket on the Gondor countryside as far as the eye could see. Aragorn was puzzled as to why the orcs had roamed so far from the mountains. He had heard that they had been going farther and farther afield, so that men were afraid to travel even in these woods by night.

Aragorn whistled softly for his horse, Arthad, and as he did so became painfully aware of the injuries he had sustained fighting the evil creatures. He clasped a hand to his right side, and felt warm blood flow through his fingers from a deep wound; he packed clean snow on it to try and stop the bleeding, praying to the Valar that the cursed blade that had cut him was not poisoned. As he felt his chest start to go numb with the cold, his horse came cantering up and stopped near his master. Arthad gently nuzzled his master and friend's shoulder, sensing him to be injured. Aragorn looked up at his equine companion and whispered to him to kneel so he could mount. Arthad kicked one of the orc bodies away to give him the room to kneel in the snow. Aragorn used the saddle horn to pull himself on to Arthad and then tied himself on, not knowing whether he could stay conscious long enough to reach the nearest village. He pulled out the roll of spare bandages he always had on hand, and wrapped it as tightly around the wound as he could, while his horse rose and started away from the gruesome sight of the skirmish. He began to shiver violently, pulled his cloak closer about him. Aragorn turned his horse in the direction that he dimly remembered the nearest village to be, hoping that Arthad remembered it too, and would make it there without his guidance.

They set off into the night, dawn still hours away and not knowing how many more bands of orcs lay waiting in ambush for wanderers. Aragorn knew that he had to try and stay awake, because if he did not, he could very easily bleed, or freeze, to death. He struggled to keep his mind aware and fighting the darkness and red haze that swam before his eyes and he so desperately wanted to sink into, to sleep and leave the stabbing, burning pain that seemed to have encompassed his entire body. He thought of Arwen, waiting for him in Lorien with Galadriel. He was going to meet her there in the spring, when the malorn trees lost their old leaves in showers of gold and new, silvery green leaves took their place. He liked to be in Lothlorien during the spring, there was something about the timelessness of the elven country when the rest of the world was beginning a new life that he loved.

A cold north wind cut through Aragorn's sodden wool cloak, chilling him to the bone. He began to shake violently with the cold and wanted desperately to let himself sink into the warm, welcoming darkness that gathered at the edge of his mind. His teeth chattering, he tried to sing elvish songs to himself to stay awake, but he could feel himself sliding into semi-consciousness. Arthad could feel his rider loosen his grip on the reins and could feel him being held in the saddle by the rope. Arthad sped up his pace and whinnied urgently in the hopes that his master would come round, but his efforts worked only for a short time. In the white landscape, Arthad was having trouble recalling where the village was that Aragorn had set them on a course for. As the light of dawn grew stronger, the wind also grew and the horse could sense that a storm was blowing in. Suddenly, that sixth sense that is unique to horses told Arthad that there was another horse approaching a ways off. Arthad had learned from experience that, at least in Middle Earth, where there was a horse, there was a person, and a fellow human was what Aragorn needed most.

With the other horse there was indeed another human, a young woman, wrapped in layers of homespun wool and enjoying the peacefulness that the snow blanketed Gondor countryside afforded her. She was called Tithen, and she was softly singing an old song her mother had taught her when suddenly her horse's ears pricked up and he strained to veer of their course. She pulled him to a stop and consulted the sky. Even though the sun was hidden behind clouds, she could see that it was not yet noon. If Arod could sense another horse, it meant that it was close enough that she could still make it to the village before nightfall. She decided to see what it was that he had heard, and as soon as she slackened her hold on the reins her horse took off in the direction of whatever it was that he had heard.

It was not long before Tithen could see the tiny figure of a man on horseback in the distance. As they drew nearer, she could see that he was slumped over his saddle, as though he were injured. She urged Arod to go faster and as they came almost level with the other rider and his horse, she could see that her assumption was correct, as the snow beneath the waiting stead was dotted with fresh blood. The other horse drew back, not recognizing them, and the rider seemed to be oblivious to everything around him.

"Hail Stranger!" she said loudly, hoping to get the man's attention. His horse backed off, keeping several metres distance between her and his master. Arod made a sound that defies human description and the other horse seemed to understand instantly that Arod's rider was good and could help the man. The horse came alongside Tithen and stood still as stone.

Aragorn was wandering in a dark mist—he was distantly aware that Arthad had stopped moving. Hoping that they had reached the village and that someone was nearby, he clutched his side and tried to raise his head. He started to say, "Please, help me," but his mouth was so dry and his tongue so swollen that only a soft moan escaped through his cracked lips. He heard a soft, strong voice speak to him as though from far off, and he tried to rouse himself. Aragorn felt someone gently, but firmly move his hand from his side and pull back the bandages. He gasped in pain, and the hand withdrew.

Tithen bit her lip. The man's injuries were severe, and judging by his appearance, he had been travelling in the cold and dark for hours. He needed help, quickly, if he were going to survive. She looked at his horse. The beast was tired, there was no doubt about that, but it seemed strong and determined to take his rider to the ends of the earth if necessary. Quickly, she tied a long tether to her horse's bridle and the man's horse. She untied her bedroll from her saddle and, reaching over, got the man's bedroll from behind his saddle and threw it over his shoulders. She dismounted her horse and talked softly to him, telling him of her plan, before leaping lightly behind the man on his horse, who did not seem to notice very much her added weight on his back. She wrapped the bedroll tightly around Aragorn and her own around them both, hoping to use her own body heat to warm him.

Aragorn was slipping in and out of consciousness again, and he did not so much feel as sense that the someone with the gentle voice had come to be behind him on his horse and had wrapped warm, dry blankets around his half-frozen form. She was holding the reins in one hand while keeping a firm hand around his waist and pressing his wound, painfully. Once again he tried to speak to the person, and again his mouth refused to obey as the horse leapt beneath him and cantered off wherever his rescuer was taking him. As he felt himself sinking into the welcoming darkness he heard her whisper in his ear, "Mae govanen, mellon nîn. Rest now, we'll be home soon—but do not dare leave me. I have not had the chance to cook for anyone but myself in a long time." He fell asleep listening to Tithen singing

I'm just a poor, wayfaring stranger,

A-travellin' through, this world of woe,

But there's no sickness, toil or danger,

In that bright land, to which I go

I'm going there to see my mother…

TBC

Author's note: I know that "Wayfaring Stranger" is a spiritual and therefore doesn't really belong in a story about Middle Earth, but it just seemed so perfect, and I promise it's the only outside thing I will be so impertinent to add to Prof. Tolkien's wonderful world. Fellow Die Hard Tolkienites, please forgive me! Furthermore, I apologize for the shortness of the chapter. I simply hoped to whet your appetite. I promise to post a new chapter hopefully within two weeks and that it will be much longer. Thank you for reading this!