Chapter One: Tis Just the Beginning
In the mouth of the cave she stood, waiting for the wounded to come in. She had never really thought about saving lives when she was younger, but it was talent she had happened upon the first time she'd seen her best friend get hurt. In Minas Tirith there were always people who needed help, people bleeding, wounded, or just dying of natural causes. It was an awful sight most of the time, but she got used to it. It was rather easy too, she found, helping people get better was worth going through the horrible sights of seeing them bleeding and screaming in pain. It was different now as well, knowing that the end might be near. She heard the cries from down below and it was heart breaking. But she would soldier on, just as she had done for the past few months, even years, of her short life.
"Aranee? What are ye doing standing there girl?"
Aranee spun round and saw the head healer standing there wiping her hands on her blood-stained skirt. "Nothing Ninia," she replied, looking over the withered healer. She looked so old. The war had definitely taken its toll of some people, Ninia being one of them. "I'm just waiting for more wounded."
Ninia huffed, as she always did and said, "And ye'll be waiting for longer than a coon's age for it. This here tavern is full up and I've just sent a guard to let Denethor know. So you'll be good enough to come back in and make fairly certain ye don't get yerself into trouble."
Aranee smiled at Ninia. The old woman had grey hair and soft skin with wrinkles. She always covered her hair up with handkerchief though so it never got in the way of her healing. But as a White Witch, she still had the bluest of blue eyes. "Coming Ninia," Aranee replied.
She could hear them coming as she went back into the center of the cave, a hundred thousand Uhri-Khai and Orcs, coming to kill them all. It was to destroy the world of men, for they had seemingly outlived their purpose in Sauron's eyes. Aranee's eyes dipped and she folded her hands in her skirt. To outlive one's purpose was to die. But Aranee was not yet ready to die; she felt it instinctively. She'd only just begun her life. She didn't want to go out like this. She needed honor and valor to be a part of her farewell. And this was not her idea of honor and valor. It was honorable to those who were dying, but she couldn't help but feel there was something else out there for her, something more.
"Good Lord, my lord Faramir, is he alive?" Ninia came rushing past Aranee and towards the cave entrance. There on a stretcher lay the Lord Faramir, son of Denethor. Two soldiers, the white wizard, Gandalf, and a small hobbit, brought him in and placed him on the hard rock ground.
"He lives Ninia," Gandalf said with a tired look in his eyes. It had been a long time since he had rested, and it was likely to be a long time more before he saw sleep. "Denethor was trying to burn him alive."
Aranee ran to Faramir's side and started pulling away his tunic. Her friend was wounded...again, and she needed to help him, save him from his pain and suffering. "Denethor was? Why?" She was infuriated with the man whom she had lived under. It was like him to forgo all logic and do something terrible, but so soon after learning of his first son's death was madness.
"The city is under siege, we must return as soon as possible. Denethor saw the numbers scattered across the field and fled, telling everyone else to flee. He lost his mind, I fear. He is dead. He was set afire in the tomb of kings and ran off the city."
Ninia covered her mouth in horror. "He truly was mad then?" she whispered through her fingers.
"Yes, indeed he was, but only after seeing his son on a stretcher with arrows protruding did his mind truly falter." He then turned to the hobbit beside him. "Come Pippin, we must to the gates at once or else I fear all will end badly."
Aranee looked up at those words and glanced at Gandalf and the small hobbit beside him. "Is there hope for a victory, Gandalf?"
"There is always hope," Gandalf replied before taking off at a quick pace with Pippin running at his side.
Aranee sighed with relief after hearing the old wizard's words. He was much wiser than she and Aranee was thankful that they had hope on their side. She turned back to Faramir, her friend, and his wounds. "My lord," she whispered as his eyes fluttered open. "Faramir? Come to me." She could feel the perspiration in her eyes coming, but she refused to give up the hope that Gandalf had claimed they always had. She refused to believe that there was no hope for her friend's wounds.
"Nee? Is that you?" Faramir gurgled, finally regaining consciousness.
"Aye my lord, 'tis I," she said with a smile on her face, overrun with gladness that Faramir was still alive and well on his way to healing. "How did you come to such a state?" she asked him with a slight smile.
"Lord Denethor told us to retake Osgiliath, but it was overrun, so we were slaughtered. I don't even know how I got here."
Aranee sighed and smiled to him, "Gandalf brought you. You are to be taken care of now, my lord." A smile always brought him back, whenever he was sad or angry. Her smiles were the best medicine, Faramir thought.
"Nee? How many times have I asked you to call me Faramir?" he smiled slightly through his pain and disillusion.
"Too many to count…Faramir."
"Éowyn? Éowyn? Are you okay?"
Her eyes fluttered open and focused in on her brother's face. How had she gotten there again? "Éomer?" she said, her voice scratchy and her body sore. Oh yes, she had stabbed the Witch-King. "What's going on?" she mumbled, trying to stretch out her aching body.
"It's over." Éomer was glad to see his sister's eyes open once more.
"Over?" she suddenly stopped her stretching. "What do you mean over?"
"Frodo tossed it in, Éowyn. The wee lad did it. Can you believe it? You've been unconscious with fever for two days now. Our land finally has peace." He was near ecstatic now. The world would be righted once more. He just knew it.
"Peace? Oh my word, are you sure? Is it truly over?" She was so afraid he wasn't telling the truth, or he was mistaken in some way. It had been too long since she had known peace that she didn't really remember what it felt like anymore.
"'Tis true sister. We are out of the darkness. And Aragorn gets crowned on the morrow at midday." His eyes traveled over his sister's face. It was soft and elegant, and strong. She was a powerful warrior of Rohan, and had persevered through her fever and pain.
"'Tis over then," she sighed happily.
Éomer smiled, "No sister, 'tis only the beginning. There is a new life here for us, for you and for me. 'Tis a beginning."
As the crowd surrounded the new king, Aranee watched from the window above. She didn't want to be a part of the festivities. She was glad for the new king, but she had not yet met him, and she didn't really like giving her allegiance to a man she hardly knew. It was just a peculiar notion she held, that she needed to know someone before she entrusted her loyalty to him, such as Faramir.
Aranee had only just gotten used to Denethor being her lord and master, and now she must adapt to a new lord and master. He seemed kind and honorable and he obviously cared for his people, but it was different when it came to her. She was just a little bit different from anyone else.
There came a knock on the door and Aranee turned to find Éowyn entering. Éowyn was turning out to be a good friend to Aranee, as she soon found out after healing Éowyn's sickness. "Éowyn?" She was all dressed up in her gold and navy blue gown and golden headpiece. "Are you not to go to the festivities?"
"I was just there, and the Lord Faramir sent me up to see if you were going to come down any time soon. Lord Aragorn wishes to meet the woman who has saved so many. Will you go Aranee?"
Aranee sighed and nodded slightly.
"You do not seem so thrilled about seeing Lord Aragorn."
"Well, in truth I am not. I have heard much about him and he sounds like an appealing and brave man, but I am still stirred by him. Where has he come from to be my king?" Aranee watched Éowyn sit down on the settee. She seemed nervous. "What is it?"
"Aragorn is a man of great honor and valor. He ran away from his past because he feared the Ring and its power. You do know that he is Isildur's heir, do you not?"
Aranee's eyes widened at the news, and she nearly gasped. "Isildur named this Aragorn heir? ...Was...was his father Arathorn?"
"Yes, his father died long ago though, as well as his mother."
Aranee nodded and gulped now feeling nervous herself. She looked away towards the window and watched the new king make tribute to the Age of Men and then walk towards his people. Among the crowd were the elves of Lothlorien.
From where Aranee sat at her window, she could see the elf, Arwen. Arwen was so beautiful, and so Aranee saw Aragorn put his arms around Arwen and cried in relief, she knew the elf princess was also in love. It showed as well. She looked pale however, almost too pale, as if she had just come back from illness, something Aranee knew a lot about. Looking back at Éowyn she smiled and nodded. "I will come now, just give me a moment."
Éowyn smiled and got up towards the door. She exited and left Aranee alone. Sighing once more Aranee moved towards the bedside table where she'd left her headpiece. She'd not had an occasion to don it for some time now so it was covered in dust. She cleared the dust away to reveal the sparkling gems of pale blue and clear. It matched her attire well. Her hair was a dark brown color and all her colors signified peaceful and calm emotions a feeling she had longed for since the war began. Her dress was the pale blue of her headpiece gems with silver embroidery. She had always loved blue and silver together. Blue was her color, and she'd stuck with it her entire life.
She placed it on her cleaned and shining hair and smoothed over her dress. She was ready to go outside now, to face her new king, no matter how much she'd rather avoid him.
Aragorn stood reserved from everyone else. He had said enough hellos and shaken enough hands for one day. It was time to retire to the grand hall with all his closest friends and enjoy some time with Arwen, whom he was immeasurably happy to see.
He held out his hand for his newly returned love. "Come Arwen," he said in her Elven language. "We shall dine."
Her dark lashes smiled at him as she nodded and took his arm. She looked so beautiful in her dress of mint green and her silver headpiece glistened in the sunlight and it made Aragorn smile to see her so happy with him once again.
He cleared his throat and his close friends turned towards him. "My friends," he said loudly, "It has been a long day we my queen and I tire. We now retire to the hall to dine. It has been a long fought battle and I'm sure we all need some rest. Feast now; mourn later, for this is a time of great celebration for our great land is once again free."
Cheers went up all around as he and Arwen turned to retreat into the white city palace.
As he began his ascent towards the entrance of the hall, Legolas and Faramir approached. Legolas came as a friend, knowing that he was welcome anywhere Aragorn was, and Faramir brought news.
"My lord," Faramir said, walking beside Aragorn, "I was told that you wish to see the Lady of the Mountain."
"The Lady of the Mountain?" Aragorn said with a frown on his face. He could not recall hearing the title before. "Who is she?"
Faramir looked slightly confused; he'd thought for sure the king had wanted to talk to Aranee. "The young woman who is responsible for the healing of so many brave soldiers is known as the Lady of the Mountain. Surely you knew that my lord?"
"It did not occur to me, no. But I know of the lady. She is to have my thanks for her thorough work and exceptional skills."
Faramir paused at these words, mouth almost twisting into a cringe. 'Exceptional skills' would not bring happiness to the Lady's ears, but Faramir knew his place and it was not his place to contradict the king.
Aragorn noticed Faramir's withdrawal however, and said, "What is it Faramir? You look as if I have said something to offend you." Faramir decided against his better judgment not to tell Aragorn and shared his thoughts with his new king. "Ah, I see," Aragorn replied upon hearing the news. "Then I shall be delicate."
Arwen was at his arm, quite reserved and quiet. She took in the setting around her and then decided to comment to Aragorn's dilemma. "Perhaps she requires some pleasant encouragement." Aragorn looked confused at the comment. "What I mean to say," Arwen continued, "is that not many people know you, so it is understandable for her to be hesitant of you. She needs proof that you are not a bad king."
Aragorn considered her words and nodded, "Yes, that may well be true." He turned to Legolas, who was also of Elven descent, therefore as wise as the Lady Arwen. "What are your thoughts Legolas?"
Legolas' eyes stirred and he glanced towards the steps. His thoughts were far from the question at hand however when he saw the glorious woman step out of the entrance hall and move towards their party. Beside her was the Lady Éowyn.
Aragorn noticed the distracted look on his old friends' face and followed his gaze. Then he saw what Legolas seeing. A tall and elegant woman, glittering in the sunlight in her pastel blue and silver gown with matching headpiece was standing beside Éowyn. She looked utterly ravishing, though not stirring any deeper feelings than those for his beloved, Arwen.
Faramir also noticed the illusiveness of the elf and now his king, and followed their gaze. His eyes settled on the sight of Éowyn first as she was dressed in beautiful gold and navy blue. She was a vision. Then he focused in on Aranee. She looked remarkable, far different from their younger days when she had been just as gangly and tough as he.
"My lord," Éowyn said, coming up to the four of them, though talking directly to Aragorn, "this is the Lady Aranee, the Lady of the Mountain."
Aranee curtseyed and settled her eyes on her new king's face, not at all as Aragorn had expected. Because of her illusiveness towards him, he had expected her to keep her eyes down and dare not look at him. But instead she did the exact opposite, which showed spirit. "My lord Aragorn," she said, "I am honored to make you're acquaintance."
Aragorn nodded his head in acknowledgment and smiled. "The honor is mine, Lady, for I have heard of all your great accomplishments regarding the wounded of Gondor and Rohan, as well as others from near and far. You are to be commended for your extremely talented skills of mending."
It was such a high level of flattery that Aranee stopped and sighed. She had not expected him to be so valiant, though because of the rumors, she had guessed him an honorable and courageous man. She returned his smile and said, "'Twas nothing my lord. Just a little bit of magic and myth mixed with herbs and hopes."
The king nodded to her and beckoned the others to follow, "Come friends, to supper."
Legolas sat beside the Lady of the Mountain. She sat tall and proud at the king's table. On her other side was Faramir, whom at the moment was in deep conversation with Éowyn of Rohan. They looked quite comfortable together. Aranee looked slightly bored, if not completely unimpressed by the state of the room's festivities. He pondered why. She was either expecting more of this dinner or she felt uncomfortable at her time down in the great hall. He assumed her times in the great hall were few and far between so this one time she came left her feeling agitated and unimpressed.
"Are you well my lady?" Legolas asked, chancing a conversation with the beautiful lady beside him.
Aranee popped out of her own thoughts and focused in on the elf. "Aye, my lord Legolas," she said. "I am quite fine, just a little tired. It has been a long endeavor over the past few days and months even. I'd like nothing better than to just curl up and go to sleep, my lord." She was almost hesitant to call him 'my lord' as her spunk and lack of formality for everything dictated otherwise in her own head.
Legolas let out a low chuckle. Either she was unaware that he was not royalty or she did not know how to address him, therefore she had called him a lord as she did the other men of the court. "You need not 'my lord' me my lady for I am just a simple woodland elf who happens to be far away from his home."
She smiled and had a rather surprised but pleasant look on her face after hearing his heritage. She asked, "Why so far, master elf?"
Legolas replied grandly, "To serve to protect the world I hold dear. Now that it is done, I do not know whether to return to my woodland realm or stay." He sighed, knowing he had not told this to anyone. No one normally asked matters so deep with an elf, for elves hid far inside themselves most of the time, only coming out bravely for battle.
"You must miss the green of the trees very much," Aranee commented, remembering her sole visit to Lothlorien when she was a little girl. She had gone with her mother so long ago, but she still remembered the lush greenery of the trees that stood nearly as tall as mountains.
"I do," Legolas admitted, "But I am at Aragorn's disposal until he chooses to give me leave."
Aranee frowned at the remark, knowing very well that she would never have had the same restraint to stay. She was not one to usually follow orders, no matter the person. She used to make quite a stir as a child, and only just followed orders from the Lord Denethor after he had threatened to have one of her close friends killed. It was a rude thing to do, and certainly uncalled for, but Aranee obeyed just for the sake of keeping her friend safe. But still, as an independent elf, who missed his home as much as he claimed, she found it strange that he would stay. "You make it sound like you serve him, Legolas? Were you not his friend first and foremost? Does that not give you precedence as just a friend and not as a soldier in his army?"
"I am his friend," Legolas replied, dropping his voice slightly, "but I am also a servant of my land. As an elf I do not have to pledge allegiance towards a man king, but to a friend I would gladly help, I am willing to make that vow." He knew well that Aranee doubted his loyalty towards Aragorn, possibly because she did not know the two of them as friends and just as King and Elven warrior. In any case, Legolas was bound by friendship towards the new king, and Aranee respected that.
Aranee looked over the elf's face and smiled. She liked the way his voice sounded, surprisingly, unlike anyone else she had ever talked to, other than Faramir, but he was more brother now than anything else. Legolas' voice however was strong, firm and full of respect, and yet it was also soft. It was serious, yet whimsical. She did not know how to explain it for the most part. Perhaps it was the elf in him she loved as she had always found the Elven race such a fascinating kind. Or perhaps it was the manlike qualities he possessed, the strong sense of authority, but willingness to protect his king through friendship, that made her feel more comfortable beside him. He was easy to talk to after having many months of tending to wounded soldiers and the other women healers who stayed behind to help.
Legolas cleared his throat suddenly, having at last found the courage to say something, and said, "I did not want to startle you before because I did not know you my lady, but I think you are very becoming in your gown."
Aranee smiled greatly, not really knowing if she had blushed or not, and she turned her head so her hair fell over her shoulder covering her face. The compliment made her stomach burn and her heart ache. She did not know why the compliment made her feel like this, but it just did. "Thank you, master elf."
"Legolas," he corrected, "please, call me Legolas, My lady."
"As you will call me Aranee, Legolas. I am not exactly partial to being acknowledged as a lady yet."
"Yet?" he questioned, thinking she was another noblewoman of Minas Tirith and used to being acknowledged as such. He guessed wrong he supposed.
"I am a healer, Legolas," Aranee explained, "therefore not accustomed to the title. I was always called Aranee before and it is what I am comfortable with. Faramir calls me Nee, but only because I let him." She was about to continue once more, but unfortunately she was interrupted Aragorn.
"Lady Aranee, Faramir has told me of your wild adventures when you were younger. Is it true you set afire to your bedroom curtains just to cause distraction so as to steal food from the kitchens?" He had been deep in conversation with Faramir previously, and was intrigued at the image it brought to mind, one totally different to the present image of Aranee sitting in her pale blue gown.
Aranee laughed as the memory resurfaced. It had happened when she was a little girl, a devious little girl most called her. "Aye, my lord, I did indeed do that. But I was not alone in that endeavor. As I recall, Boromir and Faramir were there right alongside me, causing distraction in their own rooms as well."
Faramir laughed aloud, having been listening in on the conversation, and said, "Distraction maybe, but none as drastic as setting our window curtains aflame."
"Well, nevertheless, I am not the only one to blame for that night's excursions. Pray, my lord," she said to Aragorn, "What else did the fair Faramir tell you?" She found it rather odd that Faramir had been discussing her with the new King, but it was also comforting.
"Just that you were a wild child when you were younger, and now are a reserved young woman devoted to helping the sick and wounded." Aragorn's eyes sparkled at her and she nodded her head. She was beginning to like him.
Legolas smiled at the new information he was being presented with through this conversation. It was nice to find a woman with fire and spirit, much like himself in a lot of ways, but very different in others.
Aranee continued her conversation with Aragorn and Faramir afterwards and then when everyone had finished eating, she politely excused herself from the table and returned to her room, with a smile on her face, hoping that tomorrow would be much the same, only excitingly different as well.
