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Chapter 8 – The Choice
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For what seemed to him the thousandth time since two strange elves had entered the rangers' camp, Aragorn quietly left the healing hut, gently closing the door behind him. He moved slowly to the bench set against the southern wall, gazing up through the openings in the treetops that allowed him to see the stars. He stood irresolutely for a few moments, then sank down upon it. He cradled his face in his hands, his elbows digging painfully into his knees. His thoughts circled endlessly, but he told himself sternly that there must be no more dithering. He had to make a decision. He knew both sides of this thorny quandary all too well. Over and over again, he heard Kenuric's and Legolas' voices debating passionately, endlessly echoing in his mind regardless of his attempts to silence them.

//I am glad I did not die, Aragorn. I was in no fit state to make such a choice and neither is Nienor.//

//You have no right! He wishes to depart, and his reasons are far more compelling than the ones that I had long ago, when you held me here through your will alone.//

//I greet each day eagerly, though it was long until I was able to do so. I have my patients, my research, my position, my friends.//

//Do you know how to teach him to speak again? Does anyone? Who will care for him? There are few of the Old Ones available to take Lenwë's place!//

//Who knows what blessings he will bring to our world if he tarries? What joys he may yet know?//

//Mandos halls will not hold one such as he for long. His innocence and purity of spirit will mean that he will find Valinor long before Lenwë. Let the Valar heal him as you cannot; let his family welcome him and care for him as we cannot.//

His own voice joined the debate//I would not have missed knowing you for the world, Kenuric.//

Aragorn raised his head and stared blindly into the heavens as the battle in his mind raged on. After many long minutes, one star out of millions pulled his attention. It shone very brightly and Aragorn sighed deeply to see that so much time had passed that Earendil sailed the sky. As his eyes fixed on his long ago ancestor, he thought of another, not much nearer in blood, but far dearer to his heart. "Adar," he whispered, "What would you do if you were here? How I wish you were! How I wish I could turn this burden over to your strong shoulders, as I so often brought you the troubles of my childhood. I wish you were sitting beside me, stroking your chin with your fingers, your brow furrowed. Then, after what would seem to me to be forever, you would turn to me and say, 'This is my counsel, my son.' I would feel such peace sweep over me as your measured words would show the solution clearly, free of my muddled thinking and emotional frettings. I miss you often, Adar, but never so much as tonight, when I must make my decision ere the sun rises."

Perhaps Elrond's father took pity on his descendant, for Aragorn felt a hand on his shoulder. He felt well-known fingers pressing firmly into his flesh, as they had done before he left to take up his Chieftainship. He heard words whisper through his mind, stilling the clamor within. At the time they were originally spoken, the words had been but one piece of earnest advice out of hundreds offered by a wise leader and loving parent. But now he remembered—or heard—them clearly. "You must listen carefully to Halbarad and others who have experience and wisdom. You must weigh their words diligently, especially where their advice differs from your own inclination. However, you must also remember the mantle is yours and yours alone. When you have considered the possible positions and ramifications, you must make your decision and stand by it. I know you, Estel. I trust your judgment. I trust you to do what is best, given the information you have to hand. Now you must learn to trust yourself."

As dawn lightened the sky, Aragorn beckoned to a passing ranger, sending him with a message asking both Legolas and Kenuric to attend him. His lips were firmly set and his eyes were filled with determination.

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When Kenuric and Legolas stood tensely before him, he spoke without preamble. "I am going to take some rest and then, this afternoon, I intend to bring Nienor to full awareness. I will then present him with a choice. I will abide by his decision."

Kenuric made an abortive gesture of protest, but dropped his hand back to his side. Aragorn turned his eyes to meet the healer's with no small amount of trepidation. The sight of the emotionless, cold mask, which he had not seen since their early days together, saddened him but his gaze did not flinch. "I am sorry if you are angry or disappointed in me, Kenuric, but I will follow this course."

Kenuric words fell like shards of flint: hard and cold, with sharp edges. "As you please, Lord Aragorn. Is it your wish that I keep his deathwatch - for I think we all know the choice he will make."

Sharp white teeth worried Aragorn's lower lip. "I would never ask that of you, knowing how you feel." He paused, then lifted one hand in a gesture of supplication. "Kenuric, please –"

"If there is nothing further, Lord Aragorn, I have duties to attend to."

The hand fell to Aragorn's side as he shook his head. Kenuric spun and stalked away.

Legolas mused, "Does he ever just walk? I have seen him flounce, stride, stomp, glide, strut, and –"

"Not now, Legolas! Elbereth's breath! The man thinks I am committing the worst crime I can be accused of! He is hardly likely to be pleased!"

"A healer should be above adding to the burdens you carry! What of his own oath, if he is so concerned for yours?"

Aragorn sighed. "You do not understand him, and if you are honest, you have never really tried to. He has come a long way, Legolas, through great pain and loneliness. And do not bother to say much of it was his own fault! He is well aware of that."

Legolas shook his head as though to clear it. "Forgive me, Aragorn. I have never understood your rather strange relationship with him, but now is most certainly no time to speak of it. About Nienor—you will truly allow him to make this choice?"

"I think so, yes. But if he chooses to fade, he must tell me that it is his decision, and he must be fully within himself when he does so. I will not simply let him go as he is now."

"I know this is hard for you – very hard. I also think it is the right thing to do, and I will help you in any way I can."

"And if he chooses to stay?"

"Then I will help to ensure his future is as bright as may be. But...if he wanted to stay he would not be in the state he is now. You know what his decision will be."

"I know what I think it will be. Can you fetch Arvel to watch him for a few hours?"

"Yes, my friend. Go to your hut and I will send water for washing, and bring you something to eat. You will need all the strength you can muster."

Legolas was as good as his word and better. Soon he was pushing a bowl of thick soup, enriched with a double portion of meat, into the ranger's hands as he sat on his bed. When that was finished he gave him a mug of wine mulled with herbs to encourage rest. When Aragorn at last lowered his head into his pillow, he expected the elf to silently leave the tiny hut. Instead, Legolas sank down to the floor, settling himself comfortably with crossed ankles, leaning against the wooden bedpost. He began to hum, and after a time to sing. He sang songs of Aragorn's childhood; the lullabies sung to all children in Imladris. The man's lips quirked wryly and he said quietly, "I do not need you to sing me to sleep; I am no longer a child."

Just as softly came the response. "I know." Legolas continued to sing softly in a lilting tenor, the phrases seeming to curl gently through the room, making beautiful patterns on the back of Aragorn's eyelids. When the man fell asleep, it was with a lighter heart than for many a long, weary day.

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Legolas and Aragorn walked together toward the healing hut, not speaking, each lost in his own thoughts. Aragorn's eyes were the dark, turbulent grey of storm clouds as he wrestled one last time with his healing vows. He opened the door of the hut and stepped within, Legolas close behind him. As they entered, Arvel stood from his chair by Nienor's bed and whispered, "Good morning, Lord, Prince Legolas. There has been no change since last night."

Aragorn nodded. "Thank you, Arvel. I rested well, knowing he would be carefully tended. Visit the kitchen, and then seek your own bed. You are excused from your duties until tomorrow." With one last sorrowful glance at Nienor, Arvel took himself off. Aragorn and Legolas soon heard his cheerful whistle carrying across the compound, as the young man put any gloomy thoughts behind him. The two shared a look of wry amusement, as though to say, "Were we ever that young?" before turning to the bed and the tormented elf that lay there. All amusement was gone as Aragorn grimly sat himself in the familiar chair. With revulsion for his task darkening his mind, he found it hard to gather his healing power, for it thrived on both his will and his belief that he meant only good to his patients. After long minutes had passed, Legolas stepped -behind him. He put both his hands on the stiff shoulders before him, trying to give Aragorn strength and letting him feel the faith that he had in the man and his judgment. Aragorn's breathing deepened and he began to gather the force at his command. When Legolas was sure the man had entered the light trance necessary, he took up his familiar position as his fingers found the latches of Nienor's shirt one last time. The healer's fingers hovered over heart and brow, and once again the young elf was called back from the journey he had begun. This time when Legolas began to sing, his voice remained soft yet the chant vibrated with a commanding summons.

Nienor lay unmoving and insensate as the power the man could summon and direct entered his weakened body. His face was ashen and his hair dull and lank. His cheeks were sunken and his eyes were closed.

Aragorn's demand that the elf return to awareness was fierce and undeniable. As Nienor's eyelashes first quivered and then fluttered open, Aragorn did not cease his efforts, but rather increased them. Legolas watched in amazement as the eyes focused fully on Aragorn's face and Nienor's chest rose higher with each breath than it had for some days. Legolas was thankful to see that the young elf no longer seemed so enraged as he gazed upon Aragorn. As for the man, as he lifted his hands, he did not slump backward in exhaustion, but leaned forward and spoke gently. "Nienor, I have a question to ask you. It is an important question, and I must know that you can fully understand what I am saying to you. I must also clearly understand your response. You communicate well with us through your hand motions, but for this you must write what you wish to say. Do you feel strong enough to do that?"

Showing little interest in Aragorn's words, Nienor nodded. Legolas began to place pillows behind him, propping him up, while Aragorn reached for the quill and parchment placed ready by the bed. As his fingers closed on the parchment, the door opened and Kenuric entered. His face was still set in the mask he had shown Aragorn since the man had rejected his counsel. He said abruptly but quietly, "I will witness what you would do here. I must be certain that Nienor's choice is truly his."

Aragorn met his eyes squarely. "You are welcome. It is your right as Master Healer of the Dunedain to be present for such a weighty matter."

Kenuric nodded stiffly and took up a position directly across from Legolas, as though to balance one viewpoint with its opposite.

By now Nienor was free of the trance-like state he had inhabited since Lenwë's death. He did not turn his head, but moved his eyes from person to person as he took in the seriousness of their expressions. He felt a shiver of apprehension - what new calamity was he facing?

Aragorn reached out and took the pointed chin in his hand and slowly turned the elf's face toward his. "Nienor. I had hoped that by now that you would have recovered enough from the worst of your grief that you would turn toward life and grasp it firmly. But you have fought my efforts continually, reaching instead for what we know as death. Kenuric, Legolas, and I are worried about you. You cannot continue to live in this twilight land, one foot in the Halls and one in our world. The three of us have decided that you must choose whether to remain in Arda or to depart for Namo's Halls. Legolas and Kenuric do not agree on the best course for you to take, and they want to be sure that you understand the reasons they hold the positions they do. They will both speak to you, and I want you to listen very, very carefully."

Nienor nodded again, but Aragorn shook his head. "You must write and tell me what I have just said to you."

Legolas held out the quill and gently curled Nienor's hand around it. He held the parchment beneath the tip, but did not help the elf to move it. With excruciating slowness the quill sputtered and slid shakily across the page. Nienor wrote only a few words before his hand fell laxly upon the quilt beneath it. Legolas read the parchment and then handed it to Kenuric. The healer read aloud: " 'choice mine go or stay Healer and Legolas disagree speak to me try to persuade my choice'. That is terse enough but I believe he understands."

Aragorn sighed as he nodded. "Who wishes to speak first?"

Legolas shrugged. "Does it matter? You decide."

"Very well. Legolas will speak first, and then Kenuric. I suggest you be brief, as I am not sure how long he will remain aware."

Legolas took one of Nienor's hands and knelt beside his bed. He spoke heavily, and Kenuric was startled to realize that the elf did not desire the ending he thought would come. "Nienor. Grieving one. I know you want to leave and follow Lenwë. I know the weight of your sorrow smothers your heart, until it can scarce beat at all. But this is a decision that cannot be undone; you must think carefully. If you choose to leave us, if to depart is truly your wish, then I will aid you as I can. I will not leave you until you are safely upon the Road. You will not be alone."

Nienor nodded gratefully, and with the lightest of pressures returned the Silvan elf's clasp. Legolas then stood and made way for Kenuric. He also knelt, and with a healer's gentleness stroked an errant lock from the elf's brow. He spoke quietly, keeping his feelings tightly bridled.

"You do not know me as well as you know Aragorn and Legolas, but please believe I have your best interests at heart. There are many things I could say: that you do not know where this journey will take you; that you do not know if you will even find the one whose absence grieves you so; that you have no right to willfully destroy what Eru has given you, intending you to live for ages. No, Nienor. Little though you know me, I will speak of my own heart. Long ago I had a dear friend—he was Aragorn's father. I have always been a little…difficult…to befriend, but Arathorn looked past my defenses and saw something—I have never known what—worth knowing in me, and over time we became as brothers. I could speak forever of what his friendship meant to me, but there is no time, so I will pass on. An arrow took the life of my friend and I felt as you do now—that life could hold no more joy for me, and I was well quit of it. I tried to leave, but grief so clouded my thoughts that I forgot the heal-craft I could easily abuse, and I simply lay down and waited. I will not tell you the story of why I lingered, and how I was saved, for what sufficed for me will not work for you. But I am going to do something no one has ever seen me do before: I am going to boast of myself. It is not that I am a humble man, you understand; quite the reverse, in fact. I am far too proud to puff myself off. But I want you to know what I have done since I stayed, while my friend went on without me." Kenuric now stood and pulled a surprised Aragorn to his feet. He shook the arm he held and pointed with his other hand. "I have saved this man's life three times!" He strode around the bed and pulled likewise at Legolas. "And this one at least once! I have work that is of vital importance—work that I love." He returned to kneel beside Nienor, but shot a quick glance at Aragorn. "I have friends, Nienor, even if I do not always treat them well. I have found many pleasures, many things to cherish in this world, since those dark days when my heart was breaking. I have never gone a single day without missing my friend, but I have yet found life to be rich. How much more awaits you; who are young enough to have all of life spread before you." Kenuric drew a deep breath and took Nienor's chin in hand, as he looked deeply into his eyes, letting the young elf see the truth in them. "I wanted to die, Nienor. But I am glad, today, that I did not. I know you do not want to hear this, that it will seem like a betrayal of what was between you, but one day it will not hurt so much. And then you will see that life still holds many joys for you. Choose life, Nienor."

A tear trickled slowly down Nienor's cheek as he smiled gently at Kenuric. He patted the hand that clenched the edge of the bed, as though to give comfort. Kenuric tried to swallow the lump in his throat as he stood. He did not feel the rage that usually took him when young lives were ended untimely, but only a deep sadness. He drew a shuddering breath and forced his eyes away from the elf and looked to Aragorn. "I have said all that I have to say. What now?"

Aragorn nodded to Legolas who once again placed the quill in Nienor's hand. "Nienor, do you want time to think on the words you have heard? You may take as long as you need."

Nienor soberly shook his head and his hands began to move in weak gestures.

Aragorn shook his head in turn. "No, you must write it. Write it out completely so that none of us here are in doubt of your meaning."

For long minutes the quill scratched against the parchment, rasping the nerves of the three watchers. Nienor had to rest often, but at last he gave the parchment a slight push in Legolas' direction. The older elf took it up and read: "I understand your words. Legolas says think carefully. I am grateful for Kenuric's kindness. I know he wants best. I am glad he found happiness, but I am not him. Without Lenwë, I do not want to live." The characters began to stagger and the words were brief. him…fear. Without him….pain…only pain. Let me go. Please."

For a few moments the last word hung in the air, as two men and an elf stood frozen. Then Aragorn said harshly, "He has chosen. Do you both agree he did it freely?"

Kenuric and Legolas whispered, "Yes."

"So be it!" Aragorn turned and started from the room, striking his fist angrily against the frame as he thrust through the door. Legolas made a movement as though to follow, but his eyes fell on Nienor and he paused. He was not comfortable leaving the young elf alone with Kenuric, but he was desperately concerned for Aragorn. The man had done the right thing—Legolas was certain of that—but he doubted Aragorn would be able to easily cast off the feeling that he had done a great wrong, both to Nienor and to his own spirit. He frowned as Kenuric stepped to the small window to watch Aragorn cross the compound; he was certain the disagreeable healer would try to make Aragorn feel himself a murderer.

Kemuric held his position only a few moments before crying out sharply, "Aragorn!"

Legolas joined him in a heartbeat, and they jostled shoulders as they gazed on a still form lying on the ground. Kenuric turned in a flash, saying, "Stay with the elf – I will tend to Aragorn. I knew he was not strong enough for this madness!"

Legolas grasped his arm, fingers biting deeply. "Where will you take him? His hut? Send someone to watch Nienor – I cannot stay here while -"

Kenuric shook himself free and without a word turned to the doorway. Almost through it, he turned his head back over his shoulder. "I will send you word as soon as I may." Then he was gone, and Legolas saw him stride across the greensward, skirts flapping, to shove aside the rangers who had begun to assemble around their fallen commander.

"Get out of my way, you imbeciles! Get back and give him some air. Your chieftain is merely exhausted from the cares of leading such a pack of foolhardy, headstrong rogues!" As he spoke, the healer knelt next to Aragorn and swiftly felt throat and wrist, pulled back an eyelid, and put one ear against the man's chest. He sighed with relief to find the man, as he had thought, only overcome by the demands of the morning. Looking up at the circle of worried faces around him he growled, "Your commander will be fine. You and you – carry him to his hut. Arvel, get to the kitchen and order some food – nothing too heavy. The rest of you get back to your duties. Arvel, wait!"

The young ranger turned back. "Yes, Healer Kenuric?"

"Go first to the healing hut, and tell Prince Legolas that Lord Aragorn is merely exhausted and will recover fully."

"At once, Healer."

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End Chapter 8

A/N My own personal beliefs tend more toward Kenuric's position, but it seemed to me that it was more 'true' to let Nienor choose death. I know that I have disappointed some of you who have stayed with this story so faithfully, and I am sorry for that. There is still a light at the end of this dark tunnel, I promise.