"No matter what the outcome, do not let her touch me!" Faramir gasped as Aragorn knelt to the aid of his long time friend. Again Faramir pleaded, "Do not let her touch me!" Not sure what his friend was trying to say, Aragorn nodded in reassurance to put Faramir at ease. The battle around them was ending as the Harrites retreated to the North unable to overcome the Gondorian soldiers. However, they had left their mark as many soldiers lay wounded and dying on the field, Faramir being one of them.
Others nearby rushed to the aid of Faramir, the beloved Steward of Gondor, who was slipping into darkness. "Who do you not want to touch you?" asked Aragorn, trying to keep the steward awake as he assessed his wounds. "I do not understand my friend, of whom do you make this request?" The wounds were grievous as one arrow penetrated his shoulder and the second entered just below his ribs on the left side. The shoulder would heal, but the wound to the side was another matter entirely.
"Alyssa, she cannot touch me… promise me Aragorn… she must not touch me." The words were barely off the lips of Faramir before he sucumbbed to the darkness of unconsciousness. With no time to ponder this strange request, Aragorn carefully lifted his friend upon the mighty stallion that would deliver them to the houses of Healing in the White City where preparations were already being made to accommodate the Steward. When a beloved son of Gondor has fallen, news travels quickly.
The citizens of Gondor lined the streets as the mighty wooden gate opened to receive Aragorn followed by his army of fearless men sworn to protect Gondor. The Healers were patiently waiting at the entrance for the wounded to be delivered, quickly and efficiently assessing each wounded man and sending the most severe for immediate attention. As news reached Gondor of the wounded Faramir, a special Healer was on hand to personally assist to his needs.
Aragorn did not stop as he followed the directions to the room assigned to be that of Faramir, conscious of every breath the unconscious man on his shoulder breathed as he put one foot in front of the other climbing what seemed to be unending stairs of stone. The room was dark except for a few lanterns that hung on the stone wall. The distinctive smell of healing plants and tea mixtures filled the room along with the most experienced healers of Gondor. Gently, Aragorn laid the unconscious Faramir on the bed careful to not disturb the arrows that still pierced his body. The attendants began to remove the armor, being ever so gentle, but not gentle enough as Faramir let out a moan from the pain of sublte movements.
Everyone busied themselves with the job at hand and not a word was spoken as all concentration was on Faramir. Aragorn stood back and watched helpless as the lifeless body of his friend lay just a few feet away. He began to ponder the last words spoken by his friend. Such a strange request to make under the circumstances. Why did he fear the touch of Alyssa?
Deep in thought Aragorn never heard the footsteps rapidly approaching the room at the end of the hall. Suddenly the door flew open giving way to a fiery woman with long auburn hair and vibrant green eyes determined to reach the bedside of Faramir throwing aside anyone in her way. Alyssa was here.