Chapter Nine: Comforting a King
Aragorn's head rested on his pillow, still not capable of doing much more than lie there in a state of uselessness. But he didn't really feel like doing anything, truth be told. He felt like he was going to pass into unconsciousness at any moment. Every second there was a wave of nausea that would barrel him over. His eyes would roll into the back of his head as he clung to a sense of what he wanted to call peace but really just a state of being without pain and sickness.
The entire time he had been wrestling with the assassin in black he was reacting with instinct. He would have accepted surrender instantly, but the man continued to fight. Struggling with him even after he'd been nicked by the poisoned blade was harder. After so much blood and suffering from the war he didn't like the thought of spilling more blood. He had tasted blood and didn't like it. He wouldn't relish punishing this man, but he knew he must.
He had been swept away by the unbearable pain and by the absence of feeling. His leg had gone numb and then everything else seemed to follow. Limb by limb he was taken. Then he was floating in a world devoid of any feeling. He was numb. He had no body. When he tried to look down at his own hands there had been nothing to look at. He had become a wisp of smoke, a being without essence. He feared he would never live again. He floated in that state of nothingness for so long. He had no detection of time. There was no sense to this place where the poison had landed him. He searched for the exit only to be blockaded and sent back into darkness and nothingness. He was drifting further and further, deeper and deeper, until a point where he couldn't remember what it was like to feel.
He didn't know when it was exactly that he felt the tug on his being. But he felt it and was awash with feeling once again. It was a terrified feeling. A hand searching blindly in the dark, and it both relieved him and frightened him at the same time. Then another tug and he was being retrieved from the emptiness. There was happiness on one side and a frantic need on the other. One tug was overjoyed at the idea of having found what they were looking for. The other tug was more urgent, as though if they did not accomplish this they would never forgive themselves. Slowly his senses returned to him. He could feel his limbs popping back into existence. He saw the bright light ahead and prepared himself to re-enter the world.
He surfaced, his eyes did not open. But he was no longer drifting. He was asleep and weary. He vaguely heard voices, muffled and hysterical. The voices ceased. Silence. He could feel the bed he was laying in. His dreams betrayed to him that he was in his chamber and he was safe once more. He no longer had to struggle to find feeling. He could feel the air change around him more acutely than he'd even experienced. The muffled voices he heard were replaced by a single voice. It was sobbing and incoherent. He considered opening his eyes to comfort the sobbing person but found he didn't have the strength to open them. He tried moving his hand over the hand someone was pressing to his chest but there was no response. His being was back but his body had paid the price.
And so he'd slept. He slept for as long as he needed. When he awoke he wasn't alone. In the chair beside his bed was the White Witch. Her white-grey hair was braided and hanging over her shoulder as she nodded in sleep. He opened his mouth to speak and a husky croak exited his lips. This jerked the woman awake. She rushed to his side. "No, don't try to speak, Your Majesty. There is little use. You have forgotten how to speak. The words will come. Would you like some water?"
He nodded. She went away from the bed to a bucket and ladle on the floor to scoop up some water. He thought over her words. He'd forgotten how to speak? But he could form words in his mind. What was she talking about? She came to him with the spoon and gently lifted his head to allow him to drink. The water spilled down his throat and chin. It felt wonderful. He couldn't get enough. But the White Witch would not allow him to continue. "Moderation," she chided. "Remember that you have lost much of your senses. You have come back confused and uncoordinated. It's why you cannot speak. I'm sure you think me a foolish old woman for saying so. You must want to talk, there is much to ask, but believe me. A few more hours awake and you shall be right as rain."
He opened his mouth to ask a question of her despite having been told he was unable. He croaked and the White Witch smiled. "I will tell you all that I can. For starters you must be wondering where your wife is?" A sad look crossed her face but she continued on. "She is fine. She helped bring you back. She is asleep now. She was exhausted." There was something left unsaid that Aragorn could hear in her voice. Before he could croak to attempt to ask her more she rambled on about various other things. Concern for his wife kept him from listening though.
Finally she got to the end of her recollection and brought up Aranee. It was her name that drew his eyes to the woman telling the story. He wanted to ask about Aranee. Did she suffer from the attack of the assassin as well? The White Witch wasted no time in the telling. "My lord, she is well enough I believe. She worked hard to save you. It was something that weighed heavily on her heart and mind. She suffered greatly. You must not be hard on her when you see her. She is a good child."
His mouth formed the words and they just seemed to pop out. "I know," he said. His voice was still rough but at least he was capable of forming words now. His head lay still. The White Witch nodded and went back to sit in her chair. An hour later a serf entered the room with a tray of food for Aragorn. The White Witch helped him to sit and then spoon-fed him like a child.
The useless feeling lasted through the meal, a very lean bowl of broth with a slab of unbuttered bread on the side, and returned again the next morning when he woke. The White Witch sat in her chair still, head lolling in sleep. His voice came out stronger than it had the day before and he woke her. "I would like to see Arwen," he said.
She hesitated. "I do not think that is wise, my lord. She is still asleep. I expect her to be so for another day yet. She was truly exhausted."
Aragorn sighed. He needed his queen, but if it was better for her to sleep then so be it. "Then fetch Aranee and Legolas."
She hesitated once again but nodded. "At once, my lord."
She'd left the room before he could ask her to help him sit up. He'd tried to do it by himself but failed and gave up. He would ask when she returned. He was weak, he admitted to himself, but at least he was recovering.
The White Witch returned a little while later followed by Legolas and Aranee. He saw briefly that the two were holding hands but upon entering they released them. He was curious about that but wouldn't ask. Aranee had her head down as she continued to walk into the room. She was sad. Legolas walked in, head held high looking in Aragorn's direction, eager to see his friend was alright. Aragorn had always been grateful to have such a good friend in the elf.
"Aragorn," the elf said, "You are looking better. How are you feeling?"
Aragorn cleared his throat, "I'm feeling better. There hasn't truly been time to tell. I am feeling better than I did before. Thanks to Aranee I am told." He looked at her expectantly but she did not look at him. She nodded her head and curtseyed slightly but never looked at him. Was she truly okay like the Witch had said?
Aragorn made up his mind and then asked, "Could I speak to Legolas privately for a moment?"
The White Witch nodded and Aranee simply followed the old woman. Legolas's eyes strayed to Aranee once before the door closed behind her. "Do you have feelings for Aranee?" Aragorn asked in the elfish tongue that Legolas was familiar with.
Legolas's head snapped back to Aragorn with a little shock. It was momentary but noticeable. Legolas then smiled and nodded, "She is a good woman. I am very fond of her."
"It is different for you then. This is like nothing you have felt before?"
Shaking his head he replied, "It is new and wonderful. I cannot ignore that feeling."
"Cannot and should not. She is very special. There is something about her that I find familiar. I haven't placed her yet, but I know I should be thankful for her being sent to us. She has been a great help to the both of us."
"She saved your life, Aragorn. That is little more than a great help, don't you think?"
"It is. But what does she think? Why is she so quiet? Is she alright?"
Legolas hesitated. There was something in his eyes that said he believed otherwise, but answered instead, "She is exhausted, that is all. She also feels a great responsibility with saving your life."
"Of course," Aragorn said. "I hope I will be able to repay her."
"I think the only repayment that Aranee requires is to know that you are well and that you appreciate her. She is…starting to doubt herself. Almost losing you was the final straw. I don't know if she will continue Healing."
"She doubts herself that much?"
Legolas nodded.
"Well then we must find a way to remedy that for her. She cannot fix herself when she is focused on fixing others."
Legolas smiled in agreement. Then his face was suddenly very solemn. "Aragorn, I know this is probably a bad time, but at Faramir's request, he has asked me to mention the pending trial for the assassin who nearly killed you. We believe that it should be taken care of sooner rather than later. None of us want to see your life threatened again. What are your thoughts?"
Aragorn contemplated for a few moments. He didn't like the idea, but he knew that something had to be done soon. "I suppose we shall hold the trial. Tomorrow evening. This man had better think on his conscience and prepare his soul for what is to come. I solely cannot decide his fate. But I can guess the outcome."
"Of course, Aragorn. I must also insist on delving further into this attack. Ramirez was not the only perpetrator. Apparently there are others in the city that would see you harmed. Faramir, Gimli, Éomer and I agree that one man's death may rally the others to do something less secretive and hit even harder."
Aragorn considered this. "Perhaps then we should not sentence for death, but banishment or prison. Death is a powerful motivator and if we remove that the threat might diminish."
"But does that show you are too lenient a king? Aragorn, he tried to kill you and nearly did. I would have run him through on sight if I had known you were not going to end his life as soon as you were well again. A man like that does not deserve to live."
Aragorn's eyes and voice turned hard. "Every man deserves to live. It is my duty to keep my people safe. If I am the target then they need not fear these assassins. But death to any man after so much war is not my ideal kingdom. I will only kill in necessity; only in defence."
Legolas looked at his friend with wide eyes. "I understand your need to end this bloodshed, Aragorn. But by ending this man's life you would be defending not only yourself, but others as well. There are others who this man could hurt to get to you. You must remember that he is not alone."
"I am not ignorant of the fact, Legolas!" Aragorn was reduced to raising his voice. His temper flared and he did not like it. Legolas' offense backed down immediately and he fell back off the bed to stand. The elf did not have anything else to say, and this was not what Aragorn had wanted from this visit. Legolas nodded his goodbye and went to the door.
"I would like to see Aranee," Aragorn prompted in a quiet voice. Legolas nodded and went through the door. A moment later Aranee walked in with her head down and her hands hidden in the folds of her rumpled skirt.
"My lord Aragorn," she said softly.
"My lady Aranee," Aragorn returned. "It would seem that I have much more to thank you for. First you save my elf and now you save me." Aragorn smiled in an attempt to get her to look at him.
Her head did not rise. Instead she curtseyed again, keeping her eyes on the floor and said, "It was my duty, my lord."
Aragorn frowned. Where was the fiery woman from a few days earlier who had walked into the library, head held high, and ready to butt heads with him over anything? She was altered somehow. Had his near-death experience really shaken the deeper fibres of her nature? Was it as the White Witch had said, and she was vulnerable to the outside world more so than anyone could ever imagine?
He shook his head, "No, Aranee, it was not a duty. It was a need. I am glad you felt such a need. I am glad it was you by my bedside when I was on the verge of losing this world. Please accept my humble thanks. You have a gift that is not to be ignored. I shan't forget this kindness you have done for me."
She didn't say anything. She didn't look at him. He wanted her recognition. He wanted her to be well again; he wanted to see that fire he'd seen only once. "Please come here," he whispered holding out his hand to her.
Her head popped up suddenly and Aragorn nearly cursed at the streams of tears flowing down her face. She rushed towards him, taking his hand in hers as she fell to the side of his bed. She cradled his hand to her face and sobbed harder. He took his other hand and rested it on her head, petting her hair, trying anything to sooth her. This need to comfort her did not diminish. It was ingrained into his very being. His protectiveness included everyone but at this moment it especially included her.
He listened to her crying and caught few of the words she was muttering. "I thought...didn't know if I could...save you. I thought I'd die...I can't lose you...no. So...sorry…"
He had no idea what she was talking about. He did not say anything. He just let her cry and mutter until she was quiet and lying on the side of the bed with his hand still in hers.
When she raised her head to look at him her face was red, her cheeks blotchy and her eyes still rimming with tears. Her breaths were heavy and uneven but she was slowing down. "I'm so sorry."
"Don't apologize, please Aranee. There is nothing you should be apologizing for."
A momentary frown crossed her face. "Then you don't know?" she asked quietly.
It was Aragorn's turn to frown. "Know about what?"
"Arwen...her baby...I'm so sorry."
She dropped her head again and kissed his hand. He barely noticed. His mind was racing. Arwen? Her baby? Oh sweet God. It couldn't be true. "Aranee, tell me it's not true. Please, tell me Arwen is alright."
Aranee's eyes met his. "She is fine. She is recovering. She helped to save you. But the price was high and...and she...she has lost her child."
A dull thud slammed against his chest. So it was true. And he could not be there for his wife in her time of need. The thought rattled him to the core. He needed to be with her. "Where is she now?"
"Ninia didn't think she should stay and so they moved her to another chamber."
"Help me to her, please?"
She looked skeptical. "Are you sure? Can you...I mean are you sure you are able?"
He looked at her with hard eyes. He didn't care if this wounded her anymore, he needed to be with his wife, and hopefully she could understand that. "I would go to be with my wife, now! I can't do it without your help."
She nodded hurriedly, "Of course." She rushed to put her arm around his neck and lift him into a sitting position. He brushed back the covers and swung his legs over the side of his bed. "You were unable to feel your leg earlier, how is it?"
He put his hand on his knee and felt the weight. "I can feel it fine."
"Good, then the dioxins did their job. I thought for sure..." she didn't finish her sentence.
He finished it for her. "You thought I might lose my leg?"
"No, not that. I thought you might never feel it again though and that would almost be the same thing as if it weren't there at all."
"Help me stand."
She wedged her shoulder under his arm and lifted him to his feet. He swayed a little but she kept him upright. She was quite strong he noted. "One foot at a time, my lord," she advised.
"Aragorn, please. We are well past formalities, Aranee. I will heed your advice however and be careful."
They made it to the door and Aranee had it open with her one hand before returning it to Aragorn's chest. Legolas and the White Witch stood just outside the door. Legolas' head popped up and immediately he came to take Aragorn's other arm. Together, both Aranee and Legolas manoeuvred Aragorn down the hall and to the room where Arwen was resting inside.
Arwen was sitting on a large stack of pillows with her eyes down looking at her hands twisting in the blankets covering her. Aragorn saw her and his heart nearly stopped. She looked so pale and torn. He couldn't get to her fast enough. She looked up at him and those carrying him momentarily with a flicker of relief passing over her face before she nodded her head again to stare at her hands.
He was lead to the side of the bed and helped to sit down. He looked back at Legolas who still had a stern look on his face and then at Aranee who looked sad and remorseful. Aragorn could tell that she somehow felt responsible for the loss of his child. "Thank you," he told them. They exited the room and he was left alone with Arwen.
She was still focused on her hands so he took his own hand and placed it in hers. He believed his hands could once heal just about anything. Now as he held his wife's cold, pale hands, he didn't think they could anymore. In Elfish he said to her, "My love, please speak to me. I cannot read your mind."
A small smile tweaked the corners of her lips. In a quiet voice she replied, "I feel so empty, Aragorn." A tear slid down her cheek.
"I know. You hurt. I can feel that hurt within you. Let me help you carry this pain. I want to make you feel better."
She looked at him, her eyes meeting his. "A fine pair we make. Come lie with me, my love and we will comfort each other."
With what body strength he had in him, Aragorn pulled himself to lie beside Arwen, shifting his arm around her as she leaned into his chest. Only then did he realize how much the world needed him, how grateful he was to be alive, and just how much he had resting on his shoulders. His wife needed him; his friends needed him, but not only that. The threat on his life, the near-death experience had opened his eyes to the priorities he would see to as soon as he was recovered. There were things in this kingdom that were not perfect as he had hoped to find. True there was a sickness of war, but there was still a sickness in his people. They were hurt and wounded from the long-time struggles they had suffered. As king he was expected to fix all that. This thought resolved him further to get well again. He had his work cut out for him but he would see the job done. He was a good leader, he had always known that, and he would lead his people to the comfort they needed. He would end this unrest and bring the Days of Peace, the Days of the King, to this land. It would be his everlasting legacy.
