Disclaimer: See chapter 1.
Chapter 4: Homecoming
Thaundil heard voices, first as if from afar, but gradually clearer and nearer. He realized that his father was talking, and opened wearily his eyes. Turning his head he saw that he laid on a blanket, under which was thickly straw. Ereg stood only a few yards away, speaking to a man who looked like a healer. There was grave concern in his voice.
"What ails him? The wound wasn't so deep or dangerous as to make him unconscious."
"The arrow was poisoned, but don't worry, captain. It has been tended now. He was in a serious fever for a day, but last night it subsided. They have a wonderful plant here in the north, athelas they call it. We bathed the wound with water it was boiled in, and the poison was removed. I think the terror of seeing the black King was a greater threat to him. We expect him to wake up any moment, however."
Thaundil felt that his mouth was parched, but tried still to speak. He only managed to croak:
"Father..."
Ereg was instantly by his side, his eyes glittering with tears.
"Oh, Thaundil! How I feared for you!"
The young man croaked once more:
"Water..."
Ereg lifted a wooden cup to his lips and he drank greedily. After that Thaundil felt much more refresfed and asked:
"Where am I? I remember Eärnur, that horrible wraith and being hit with an arrow but nothing else."
"You are near the Lake Evendim, in the tent of the healers. You were brought here the day before yesterday and have slept since."
Ereg offered his son some more water and turned to the healer.
"Will he heal completely?"
The healer shrugged.
"As far as I can see. He will have no limp, but will carry a scar for rest of his days. Some aching will also be probable."
Ereg sighed in relief, but Thaundil was too tired still to even rejoice that he was alive. He shut his eyes and wandered to sleep again.
--
Three weeks later he hobbled on board a ship which was arranged for the transport of the wounded. Forlindon was again full of soldiers, the officers tearing their hair in despair while trying to create some order. Thaundil was supported by Ereg and Nárion as he leaned heavily on a cane. Nárion joked:
"Now we both are magpies. I wish we had wings."
The jest was not particularly good but Thaundil smiled nonetheless. They indeed resembled magpies in their grey tunics and black boots. He answered:
"Uncle, weren't you wounded in like fashion?"
"Yes, just when I thought I was safe, some Wainrider bastard thought I was a good mark. You were lucky, though. Just a bit lower and you would need a cane for the rest of your life. Funny that we both earned corporal's stripes just for being shot at."
Thaundil nodded and walked on board, grimacing with every step. Eärnur indeed had rewarded many of the cavalrymen who had been in the encounter with the Witch-King. New white stripes were sewn on Thaundil's lower sleeves, but going home was more important than any promotion. He had wondered when he had seen that one man of his platoon had been given the rank of an ensign. The man had died of his wounds next night and was only momentarily conscious before that. It was like mockery to... He wiped the thought from his mind. What then if dying men were rewarded? The honour had been earned, after all, and if it came only two hours before death, so what?
He settled down on a hammock in the hold of the ship and said to Ereg:
"Father, do you think they will release me now? I'm not fit for anything for a few months."
Ereg smiled sourly.
"So, now the soldier's life doesn't taste you anymore? I don't think you will be released from service. Look at your uncle. All he got was three months' leave and the assignment of equipment officer."
Thaundil sighed.
"So, it means still four and a half years left. Well, I guess I must sleep in the bed I made for myself."
"Yes, I fear so. But do not be depressed! At first you will have your leave and after then, well, time flows quickly."
Ereg turned to go, saying:
"Now, goodbye for a time! We'll see in Pelargir at latest."
"Goodbye, father!"
--
The sound of heavy soldiers' boots echoed from the pavement in the Oak Street of Osgiliath. Ereg strode once again home with Nárion. This time they were accompanied by Thaundil. Ereg smiled when he thought about a hot summer day over thirty years ago. He had been then also hurrying to meet his beloved again. It was now Urimë also and the weather was beautiful, just like once. He turned to Nárion:
"This brings memories to mind, doesn't it?"
"Yes, it does. But don't make our young friend weary. And I myself didn't want to experience this again." Thaundil was surprised.
"Why so? Isn't it wonderful to come home again?"
"Yes, but I'd rather leave never and be home all the time and avoid being hauled hundreds of miles in between."
Ereg sighed.
"Well, at least for me this is the last homecoming of this kind."
Nárion and Thaundil were both intrigued. The latter asked:
"Why then?"
"Because I resigned from the army just yesterday. Next monday I can finally lay my uniform down. I realized in the north that I am too old for this."
Thaundil grimaced. He had still more than four years left. Ereg sensed his resentment.
"Son, don't fret. You are still young, but for me it is time to prepare for winter."
As he said that, they were before the house of Ereg. The old captain mounted the steps and knocked. Soon he saw the surprised face of Riliel in the doorway. He simply stepped in, embraced his speechless wife and kissed her. After that Thaundil stepped closer to receive an embrace.
Nárion whispered to the servants, who ran outside. After an hour they returned with Doronir, Dilthwen and their families. It was evening, and once again the walls of the old house echoed the celebration of soldier's homecoming.