Chapter 46:
War of Two Natures
Author's Note: Whelp! A new week, a new month, and a new chapter! Enjoy!
She groaned. Her head lulled from one side to the other, and her body shuddered from the desire plaguing her nightmarish dreams. Ara opened her eyes and found herself riding behind Mafortion on his horse - a brown mare he explained was used to breed with the stallions during the mating season - and blushed from shame and embarrassment. Two nights and a day of hard riding had swept them quickly across the plains, but they weren't far enough from the danger to completely color themselves as safe. Ara questioned the assertion that she'd be safe. From what Maf and the other riders had explained to both herself and Boromir, it didn't seem like Edoras was any safer. Grima Wormtongue had the ear of the king and Nyx had taken up residence in the city just two weeks prior from the Fellowship's departure from Lothlorien. Discussion about how to smuggle Ara and Boromir safely into the city was had on and off with Maf concluding that he'd likely need to distract their enemies in order for Ara and Boromir to enter the halls undetected and make for his chambers. Eowyn - the king's niece - would likely be there to help them.
Ara wasn't happy with that plan. She already struggled with keeping the curse from completely overtaking her mind. Maf being there was a great help to her struggle. He was familiar - practically the only father figure she had - and provided that steady, unmoving, presence she needed to bring her mind to right. Attempting to use her husband brought about mixed results. After some thought as to why that was, Ara concluded that it was the particular argument that had left her unable to allow remembering him to bring her back fully from the abyss.
And really, what did he expect? He said he didn't want me - that he'd prefer someone else by his side as queen - and he regretted choosing me, she thought.
Aries was different. He wanted her. He needed her. She needed him. Wanted him. Wanted to feel him run his long fingers along her -.
STOP!
Once again, she was left feeling dirty. Her mind and soul were invaded by the curse and breaking it herself seemed out of the question. Tears pricked her eyes and she buried her face into the fabric of Maf's coat. She hated herself for not being able to regain control. She hated herself for putting herself in the position to get kidnapped in the first place.
I should have listened to him, she thought, anguished.
"Ara? We're close to Edoras."
She looked up and beheld the sprawling huts that surrounded the massive golden hall at the top of a high rise in the plains. All tears and self-hatred were forgotten as she beheld the rugged beauty of the people of Rohan. Her eyes with elven sight took in everything there was to see and a large grin slowly parted the clouds of sorrow. If she'd bothered to look, Aracasse would have noticed that her reaction greatly pleased the men of Rohan she rode with. Nothing could have ingratiated them more than apparent appreciation for their home and their loyalty was bought for such a large price.
"This is just fascinating," she muttered so only Maf could hear her. "It's a blend of medieval England and Nordic architecture - at least what we know has survived. The hall in particular seems to be a mesh of medieval fortress and a viking mead hall."
The wizard chuckled and said, "Yes, that was my guess, though you know more about the subject than I."
"Indeed, try not to go about ascribing historical parallels without first consulting either myself or the professor," Ara replied.
"You'll like the interior," Maf continued as if she hadn't said a word. "The hall where King Theoden sits on his throne is particularly nice, but we'll likely have to get that curse under control and Grima and Nyx taken out before we can do much else."
She grimaced and nodded. They were still a few leagues from the city when Maf called for a halt and handed her off to Boromir with instructions to the gondorian and Brandir to make sure no one else but them and Lady Eowyn knew she was an elf or that she was even in need of healing in the first place. Boromir didn't need much convincing, but Brandir acquiesced after a certain amount of coaxing. Maf led the four remaining men to the city's gates while Brandir led Boromir and Ara away from them to what he explained was the eastern gate. An hour of riding and the gate was in sight. Aracasse held her breath as they approached and reached up to her head to smooth her long hair over her ears and lift the hood of her cloak over her head.
There was one guard at the gate. Brandir smiled at him and lifted his hand in greeting.
"Haldor! It's good to see you this fine afternoon!" Brandir said.
Haldor smiled and lifted his hand to return the greeting and replied, "And you, my friend. I had thought you'd return with Eomer's men?"
"Alas! I was sent for the lord and lady beside me. Haldor, this man is Boromir, son of Denethor of Gondor and the lady with him is a damsel nearly made off with by the Urukai," Brandir explained, and Aracasse was surprised at how well the man was able to lie.
Part of her wanted to be skeptical of Brandir's help, but as she thought about it she knew the lie was only a temporary one meant to protect her and Boromir from a worse fate than she already faced. Haldor turned to look at her, but frowned when she didn't lower her hood.
"She was wounded on her face and is embarrassed of the bandages," Boromir said.
"Of course," Haldor said and cast her a pitying look.
Aracasse bowed her head and added in a meek voice, "The Uruks were cruel and spoke of committing terrible acts against me. It was only by the strength of these men here that I only escaped with this disfigurement."
It wasn't a lie. She had a disfigurement of a sort and the strength of Boromir and Brandir had saved her in the end. Poor Haldor; however, didn't need to know that particular detail. At least, he didn't need to know it, yet.
"I fear she will need to see the healer," Brandir said.
Haldor grimaced, "Ah, yes, the healer arrived not too long ago. I fear the… Grima Wormtongue ordered their incarceration in the name of the king."
"And who shall I take my lady to for healing?" Boromir asked, continuing to play the part of a loyal guardian.
"The Lady Eowyn looks after the prince in the Grey One's workroom," Haldor said. "She is readying his body for burial."
"Theodred has fallen?" Boromir asked, bewildered.
"Aye, his scouting party were ambushed by Urukai barely a week ago," Haldor explained. "He succumbed to his wounds last night."
"The lady sees to her cousin?" Ara inquired.
"Yes, she does the task befitting a woman in his household - his kin."
"Good, mayhaps some distraction can alleviate her grief if but for a little while," she replied.
Haldor looked appreciative and bowed, "Well, best pass through the gates quickly. I'd avoid going directly through the hall. Take the servants entrance instead and do your best to avoid Grima and the king for now. Strange and dark things are afoot in these times."
"We will do that, thank you Sir Haldor," Boromir said and then allowed Brandir to ride first through the gate before following after.
Aracasse did her best to keep her appearance a secret from the populace. It was difficult. While the people of Edoras seemed world-weary and heavy-laden, the huts and shacks gave way to smaller stone structures that Ara could only guess belonged to those of higher import. Brandir led them though a twisting, turning route that ended them at what she guessed were the servants quarters.
All was quiet and not a sound piqued. Brandir frowned, looking about the empty grounds. The men dismounted and led their horses to the side, fingers grasping the pommels of their swords. Ara moved to dismount from her and Boromir's horse, but the man shook his head. She stayed still and was grateful for the support of the great beast as the curse pulsed her breast. She leaned forward, gasping in air and attempted to blink away both tears and pain.
"The servants must have been sent away," Brandir mused.
"This could be a trap of sorts," Boromir muttered.
"Aye," the rider agreed, "that it could."
A blond figure clad in white moved and the three companions looked in its direction to find a slim, but tall woman step out of the shadows. Aracasse studied the shadow in her pale blue eyes and the way her melancholy seemed to make her a beautiful wraith. But, when her eyes fell on Boromir, they seemed to regain a kindling of light and a soft smile played across her lips.
"My Lord Boromir, it does my heart well to see you once more," she greeted.
Boromir smiled. Aracasse felt the tension in him fade as suddenly as it came.
"Aye, my Lady Eowyn, the years haven't been too kind, I fear, but they are made a little better in meeting you once again," he said.
Affection shone in her eyes, though Aracasse noticed it wasn't the anything substantial. It could be, she supposed, and part of her wanted to help facilitate it if she thought Boromir returned it even a little, though she found his language too stilted and formal for such an occurrence. Eowyn looked to Ara and frowned.
"Is this the one Maf spoke of?" She asked.
Boromir inclined his head, "Yes. As I understand it, she needs a quiet place to hide as she recovers from her injuries."
Eowyn's brows rose, but she didn't argue with the man's assertion. Instead, she motioned for them to dismount their horses and instructed Boromir and Aracasse to follow her. Brandir remained behind to guide the horses to the stables. They slipped through dimly lit windowless corridors that were vacant of any living person. Ara wanted to ask about the lack of people, but figured it was best to wait until they were in a more private area that she could fortify. Their hostess paused before a particular door and withdrew a bronze key. Once unlocked, she lifted the latch and pushed it open.
"Quickly," she whispered, beckoning them through. "A few of my maids were able to distract the rest of the servants, but I fear such a distraction won't last much longer."
"Their help is appreciated," Boromir said, "thank you."
She smiled and hurried them to another door that wasn't locked. Upon entering, Ara felt lightheaded and stumbled. She would have fallen to the floor if it weren't for Boromir's steadying hands catching her arms.
"What is it?" He asked.
She shuddered as another wave of desire washed through her and replied, "Nothing more than what already afflicts me."
He looked at her, concerned, but wordlessly guided her to one of the wooden benches that were scattered about the room. Lady Eowyn moved about the room retrieving various jars of herbs and tinctures.
"Mafortion instructed me to prepare a calming tea for you," she explained. "He didn't elaborate on the particular ailment."
"It's isn't a traditional hurt," Ara responded. "It's sorcery in nature and will require much work on my part to dissolve it."
The lady smiled and gathered her blond locks behind her and bound them with a short chord. Boromir situated himself in a stool nearest a shuttered window and watched the lady work in the dim candlelight. Ara observed her along with him and wondered at her familiarity of Maf's storeroom.
"What is this I hear about King Theoden?" He asked. "It was not so long ago that he sent word to my father in sound mind and spirit."
The lady paused for a moment, but continued in her work while explaining, "It may bot be long by your reckoning, but to the men and women of Rohan it has been but an age. The words of Grima Wormtongue have long poisoned his mind and the loss of my cousin has born a heavy burden on the shoulders of my uncle. Not even the steadfast words of my brother could hold sway."
Boromir looked pained and glanced to Aracasse. She met his gaze for a long moment before she turned to Lady Eowyn.
"What has Mafortion done during all of this?" She asked.
"He awaited your coming. He told of a seer - as old as the beginning of time - telling him of your eventual coming to Edoras. In the face of Wormtongue," she spat that name forth with a level of bitterness that caused Aracasse to suspect deep resentment towards this faceless man on the part of the lady, "he rendered aid where he could and tended to the wounds of my cousin - the prince. But even he held no hope for him and rode out with Eomer against King Theoden's wishes to route out the evil brought by the Urukai. I remained, caring for both, until Theodred breathed his last."
Here the voice of the lady broke in grief. Ara watched her, feeling pity for the woman's position and wished she could help. Until the curse was under some sort of control, Ara knew she'd be of little use to the lady and her family.
The herb mixture was bound in clean cloth and a pot of water sat over a small fire to boil. Lady Eowyn turned to them at long last and took in their disheveled appearances. Aracasse knew she must have appeared dreadful and Boromir looked as if he'd run over hill and dale at some ungodly pace. If his account of who led the chase was correct, she suspected her husband barely had it in him to show mercy on their companions.
"There is water and wash basins in the adjoining rooms," the lady offered. "I will call my handmaiden to bring a shift and dress for you to change into, Lady Aracasse. After, I will personally see to newer attire for you, Lord Boromir."
The man bowed, "You have my thanks, dear lady."
Ara would have followed with thanks of her own, but the desire and lust plaguing her reared its ugly head once more and she pitched forward in her seat and gripped the sides of her head. The feeling passed, but she remained hunched over, shivering. Gentle, soft hands, grasped her shoulders and roused her from the fear and disgust which took hold. Ara looked up into the soft eyes of Eowyn.
"Come with me. You will feel better after a wash and some new clothes," she said kindly.
Carefully, Lady Eowyn helped Ara to her feet and nodded to Boromir. The gondorian didn't return the gesture, but he did rise from his seat and left the workroom into one of the indicated adjoining rooms where he could freshen up in peace. This didn't surprise her considering the last full conversation they had she'd placed a *geas on him. It had been a strange moment. In all her years - as short as they were compared to others of her race - Aracasse had never been used a the messenger and sword of the Almighty Triune as was part of the purpose of their position. In fact, the last monarch to have ever reported such an occurrence was Athena who'd been called by the *Messenger of the Triune into Egypt to afflict its people until the Pharaoh of that time released the Israelites from their enslavement.
If I have any more parallels to my great-grandmother, I might sequester myself into seclusion after this, she thought, irate as Rohan's lady helped her through the door opposite from the one Boromir went through.
It was a small, quaint room with on large window, a simply dressed bed, a table and a basin and pitcher full of water. On that bed was a change of clothes - a simple red dress and a cream linen shift. Ara turned to Lady Eowyn and smiled, feeling the threads of exhaustion begin to creep along her consciousness.
"Thank you, I wish to be left alone. When the tea is ready, simply knock, enter, and set it on my bedside. I have much work to do before I sleep for the night," she said.
The lady returned her smile with one of her own and left. Ara first approached the basin and began the process of stripping off her clothes. First her badly ripped tunic was discarded, then the finely linked mail of the elves. Her padded vest underneath the mail went next and was soon followed by her white linen shirt and the grey leggings and brown boots of Lorien. A small mirror leaned against the wall on the table behind the basin and Aracasse peered into the reflective waters and beheld her appearance for the first time in many days.
She looked terrible. Dark circles punched her eyes, her bronze hair had escaped her long braid - again - and the strands clumped into thick knots at her shoulders, elbows and brow. With a glance at her bracelet, Ara considered shaving off an inch or two, but decided against it. She wasn't a hairstylist. Who knew what she'd do to her poor, unassuming, hair? The Ring of Barahir hung from her still-bruised neck and settled between the tops of her breasts where the black tendrils of the curse pulsed through her veins in its bruised place above her heart. The veins had spread, she noted, but they seemed to do their best to avoid the ring. She smiled at that, but didn't move to touch her husband's ring.
It took her almost thirty minutes to undo the chaos that was her hair. The task annoyed her to no end, but there was no helping it. Elves had very good hair when left to its own devices, but Ara hailed from Earth where the elves were modern and engaged in modern things like daily washes with shampoo and conditioner as well as periodic visits to the hairdresser. While places like Imladris and Lorien had decent soaps for a lady elf's hair, the wild didn't. Hair dependent on modern comforts - be it elven or human - didn't fair well in places where there was no civilization to be had.
Only a basic soap was provided for her, but Aracasse didn't mind it too much. She heated the water slowly, careful of the curse acting up the moment she began to use it, and made quick work of her body and hair with it. There were no lotions or perfumes provided, but she didn't mind. The feeling of cleanliness helped by the clean linen shift made her situation just a little better. Unfortunately, being so unclothed made her more susceptible to the curse's influence.
Thoughts crept into her consciousness that weren't her own, but attempted to endear themselves to her person as if they were the preferable path for her mind to follow. Aries caressing her, kissing her, entering her….
Pain shot through her hand and Ara cried out more from surprise at the sudden occurrence of it. She opened her eyes - realizing that she hadn't known she'd closed them so caught in her curse-induced daydream - and inspected her bloodied knuckles and the stone wall she'd unconsciously punched to wake herself from such musings. With a sigh, she strode back to the water basin and plunged her hand into its cool depths. The element became dense and entered the slight wound, cleaning it, then healing it a moment later. Ara withdrew her hand, inspecting her handiwork, before she glanced at the bed once more.
Comfort, she decided, wasn't going to help her fight Aries' curse. A shudder rocked through her at the thought of the… things the curse would force her to imagine should she gave into her want for comfort and a soft bed. Teal eyes settled on the space before the open window and Ara nodded to herself while inspecting it. Yes. Yes, she could rest there. Comfort wasn't the aim. Rest wasn't even the aim.
She wracked her brain and forcefully drudged up songs from her mind. Earth, the presence of her destined one was essential for waylaying the curse's effects, but perhaps Arda's more subtle magic could be a safe counter-curse? Resolved in this, Aracasse stepped up to the open window and sat on the cold floor, crossing her legs as she lowered herself to the ground. She closed her eyes, leaned her head and back against the wall just underneath the window, and let her mind wander with the occasional nudge from her dominant conscious here and there.
After sifting through multiple thoughts about Aries inspired by the blasted curse, Ara finally settled on something that would hopefully begin to work.
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
They strung up a man
They say who murdered three
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where dead man called out
For his love to flee
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run
So we'd both be free
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Wear a necklace of hope
Side by side with me
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where I told you to run
So we'd both be free
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where they strung up a man
They say who murdered three
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree
Are you, are you
Coming to the tree
Where dead man called out
For his love to flee
Strange things did happen here
No stranger would it be
If we met at midnight
In the hanging tree
"The Hanging Tree" as sung by Peter Hollens
Though she sang the whole song, Ara winced at how forced the tune seemed in her ears and that her voice only carried with it a sliver of power. Still, it was something and it seemed to keep the feelings conjured by the curse at bay, so she resolved to keep singing.
There is a house in New Orleans
They call the Rising Sun
And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy
I know, I know I'm one
My mother was a tailor
She sewed my new blue jeans
My father was a gamblin' man
Down in New Orleans
Now the only thing a gambler needs
Is a suitcase and trunk
And the only time he is satisfied
Is when he's on a drunk
Oh mothers tell your children (Children, don't you do)
Not to do what I have done
Don't spend your lives in sin and misery
In the House of the Rising Sun
I've got one foot on the platform
The other on the train
I'm goin' back to New Orleans
To wear that ball and chain
I'm goin' back to New Orleans
Our race is almost run
I'm goin' back to spend the night
In the House of the Rising Sun
"House of the Rising Sun" as sung by Peter Hollens
She frowned, though she continued to hum the tune under her breath as her mind searched for another one to attempt. This wasn't working. She could only dredge up dark and melancholy folk songs which were entirely wrong for the staying of the curse. Once more, she closed her eyes and breathed.
Words and a song she'd never heard before came to mind and she softly sang:
Now there once was a time when the northerners sang
Of a king they had crowned: more a boy than a man,
More a pup than a wolf, with the cold of the realm in his eyes
He'd broken a vow to the lord of the Twins:
Wed a stranger, a beauty, but a promise there'd been
So the Lord Frey demanded a bridegroom as compromise
And the timbers groaned
River wind softly moaned,
"For the King in the North doesn't know
How a red wedding goes"
Oh, the feasting was plenty and the singing in tune
And the Stark wolves, they howled 'neath their northern moon
So loud were their cries that the closing of doors was drowned out
Lady Catelyn alone had the river's sharp ear
Heard dancing reels turn to the Rains of Castamere
In her skin and bones growled a creature of doubt
And the timbers groaned
Winter wind softly moaned,
"For the King in the North soon will know
How a red wedding goes"
There were arrows and daggers, and the touch of them burned;
From players to slayers in an instant were turned
And the foreigner Queen was the first to fall under the knife
With two arrows in him, the King crawled to her side
While his mother, she pleaded for the Lord to subside
But he'd taken their word, and to break it meant no right to life
And the timbers groaned
River wind softly moaned,
"For the King in the North, now he knows
How a red wedding goes"
Lord Bolton approached; with a thrust to Robb's heart
He gave him the Lannister Lions' regards
And the king's mother wept, for his last word had called her to him
There was nothing she felt cutting Lady Frey's throat
And she felt nothing more when they slashed her own
The North will remember, she thought, and they'll have all your skins
And the timbers groaned
Now the wolves lie below
For the King in the North, if he'd known
How a red wedding goes
And the timbers groan
But the North waits; they know
That one day the blood that they're owed
Will run 'neath their soles
Will run 'neath their soles
"Timbers & Wind (Red Wedding)" as sung by Peter Hollens
She shuddered and pinched the bridge of her nose at the prophetic inspiration which fell from her lips. This was the second time The Triune had used her for His words and purpose, though she knew not their meaning. A frown still marred her face and the music faded when a knock startled her from the deep throws of thought.
"Enter!"
Boromir pushed the door open and blinked. In the waning daylight was the queen clad in a simple linen shift with a gaunt expression in her teal eyes. Maybe he would have felt embarrassment at her attire, but all his eyes could take in were the tendrils of darkness making their way through her veins from the massive black and red bruise that was the pulsing curse.
"T'was a haunting melody, your grace," he said.
She nodded, "Those are all my mind seems to wish to sing, though the particular mode of this one wasn't inspired by the curse. You heard it?"
Boromir raised an eyebrow and replied, "Aye, all of it."
The queen studied him for a long moment before asking, "And what do you feel of it?"
He frowned. He had felt something. It was different than the feeling wrought by the geas she placed upon him, but that sense of purpose still remained.
"A sense that I should remember those words as I remember the… geas you placed on me," he said.
She winced at that, "I'm sorry. Those words were not my own though I was the mouth used to say them. It appears, Lord Boromir, that you play a role in The Triune's purpose though I haven't divined exactly what it is as of yet."
He rubbed his eyes, feeling soul-weary at the declaration, and replied, "I'm not sure I want to partake in this purpose."
"Understandable, but I fear there may be little choice in the matter," she said, staring off into the grey wall beside her.
Silence descended for several long moments before Boromir haltingly said, "I am… your wizard friend believes I am… frozen in time of a sort? That this geas will not let me age or die until whatever lesson I am to learn is fulfilled."
She sighed, "I suspected that was the case. This was how you survived the knife wound. Nothing I did actually stopped the inevitable."
Boromir didn't respond. The bitterness in her tone told him enough of her regrets in the entire affair. No, he wouldn't censure her, he decided. The current affliction was punishment enough and would likely take much of her will to keep at bay. Suddenly, she stood and swayed precariously on her feet. Boromir strode forward and caught her shoulder and arm before she stumbled.
"Thank you," she said softly.
"You are my queen and the wife of my liege. My honor commands me to help." Then he smiled, "But as my friend, you will always have it all the same."
For the first time since they'd rescued her, Aracasse smiled. It was a small one, and it held little joy, but the shade of the woman he'd met in Imladris broke past the clouds of melancholy that covered her spirit. Silently, he helped her to the bed and watched as she lowered herself to the thin wool sheets.
"I'm afraid," she confessed. "There's so much that could go wrong if I can't win against this thing. I don't know what it will take, but I must do what I can."
Boromir watched her for one long moment before he placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. It wasn't, necessarily, proper, but barring her teacher, the queen had no one familiar but himself. While he had little doubt that Aracasse and Lady Eowyn would get on splendidly in future interactions.
"I know not how to help you," he confessed.
She smiled and replied, "I know you don't. It's alright. I'll figure this out."
He frowned, but chose not to reply. Could she alone prevail against this curse? Boromir wasn't sure.
*geas/ɡeSH,ɡeSH/noun: geas; plural noun: geasa (in Irish folklore) an obligation or prohibition magically imposed on a person.
*The angel Gabriel is typically considered the "messenger" in Biblical terms.