Denethor POV
Walking through the camp, Denethor looks for Gil while ignoring the guards persistently following him. Just thinking about them causes his annoyment to rise to completely new levels. Ever since his injury a few days ago, they have been hovering over him more than before. He has gotten no second of peace ever since.
Not a single second. He can barely breathe. If he could then he would have dismissed them days ago. He sighs. It is a futile thought. He just cannot get rid of them. It would create far too many problems for him. Something he cannot afford at this time. He has to swallow their smothering oversight
"My lord, are you alright?"
He clenches his fists to stop himself from growling or even lashing out at them. This is just what he thought about. Nevertheless, he turns towards the one who spoke and glares at him. The guard - whose name does not interest him, at least at this time - simply smiles at him and looks away. The other guards do the same even if they also shuffle their feet. He narrows his eyes unwilling to dignify them with a response.
Huffing, he turns back and walks briskly forward. He has to find Gil soon before he loses his complete patience with these annoying guards. He suddenly senses the handle of his knife in his hand and looks down. His hand is positioned as if intending to draw it soon. Taking a deep breath, he moves his hand away from his knife. It would not do for the guards to get a wrong impression of his state of mind.
The further he walks the more effort he has to make to keep his hand away from his weapons and the less he notices the area around him. He continues his search for Gil with less conscious effort than before. He walks on and notices how the tents become more Rohirrim-like than Gondorian the further he gets. Turning, he walks in another direction where he finds non-descriptive tents.
"My lord Denethor, can I aid you with anything."
He turns towards the voice. Halon stands before him with a smile and twinkle in his eyes. Behind him, multiple Dúnedain are barely attempting to hide their snickering. He narrows his eyes for a moment before relaxing slightly. Halon might be able to tell him where Gil is. And those Dúnedain are not worthy of his attention. Ignorance will be their lesson.
"Yes, there is a matter with which I require aid."
"And that is?"
"Do you know where I can find Lord Aragorn?"
"Maybe? Might I ask why you want to see him?"
"Because there are some things I need to discuss with him."
Halon stays silent for a moment while searching his face. He feels a frown reappearing on his face. He struggles to push it away and begins to wonder what is bothering Halon to look him over so much. He hears the guards shuffling behind him after a bit. It takes a while before Halon smiles at him and nods.
"Well then, you can find him with the healers. Last I heard, he wanted to attend to some of the severely injured men. And he was also looking for someone but I do not know who."
"Thank you, Halon."
He nods to Halon and walks away. He has gotten more information than he expected. And also he knows where the healers are. Or more likely, where the majority of them will be. If Gil is not with them then they will know where he has to look. As he walks, he can hear people around them whispering which increases the closer he gets to the healers' location.
The area around him slowly becomes more open than it was before. He sees people working on crèmes and what-not. They all glance at him when he passes them. One of the apprentices looks at him with wide eyes before running off. He frowns, wondering where this apprentice is going. And what caused this fear. He does not have to wait long for soon a healer is moving towards him. An anxious expression covers his face.
"My lord, do you require anything?"
"Yes, I do. Could you tell me where I can find Lord Aragorn?"
"Lord Aragorn? My lord, do your wounds bother you? I could take a look at them if you like?"
The healer looks at him with an unknown expression on his face. Denethor has to struggle to keep the frown off his face. He cannot tell if it is eagerness or anxiousness. He looks at the healer for a moment before he shakes his head.
"No, my wounds do not bother me but you have not answered my question yet."
"Forgive me, my lord, I thought you wanted to see Lord Aragorn because of your wounds. That is why I asked. But I have not seen him for the last hour. He was at our pavilion attending to our most seriously wounded the last time I saw him."
"Thank you, I will seek him out then."
"We can do that for you, my lord, so you can rest."
"That is not necessary."
The healer looks at the floor with a crestfallen look in his eyes. After a bit, the healer looks up again. At this, he waves the man off and walks towards the pavilion which is visible in the distance. He will look for Gil there and hope he has not yet finished. Whether it is true or not will depend on the severity of the injuries. Shuffling sounds behind him and he turns his head. The healer from before is following him at a distance while his guards unsuccessfully try to get him to leave. He turns back while ignoring the discussion behind him deeming it unimportant.
Before long, he reaches the pavilion and enters it through the open arch. The inside is lined with stretchers on which men lie. Some men groan but most do not make any sounds. Of the men present, only a few actively react to his entrance by struggling to sit up. He looks them in their eyes and mentions for them to lie down. It will not do anyone any good if they worsen their recovery with this. Most of all himself. The healers will be quick to blame him for it and forbid him from visiting the pavilion again.
Looking around the pavilion, he searches for Gil. All he can see are healers who look at him before returning to their duties. Their faces do not linger long in his mind once he notices they are not Gil. Walking through the pavilion he hopes Gil is hidden somewhere all the while looking at who is present. He can identify some of them but most are completely unknown faces.
"My lord! Do not go any further. It is dangerous there."
He turns around to see the healer from before looking at him with wide eyes. Eyes which show pure terror. He turns back to the area he was approaching wondering what triggered him. It is then he notices there is a screen in front of him. It hides whatever is behind it. He frowns and turns back to the healer.
"And why is that? Are not some of my men there behind the screen."
"No, my lord. There are wounded Haradrim and a few Easterlings behind."
"Oh, and who attends to them?"
The man shuffles his feet while looking at the ground. His hands wring together nervously. Denethor lifts an eyebrow. He has a feeling himself but would like to receive confirmation. He waits patiently for an answer while struggling to keep his impatience in check. He wants an answer. And preferably right now. Once the man finally speaks up, he feels a weight pressing on him disappear.
"Lord Aragorn attends on them as he is the only one who speaks their tongue."
"And who is with him there?"
"Just a few experienced apprentices."
"No guards?"
"No, my lord."
He narrows his eyes staring at the healer and feeling the pressure returning. But this time, it is increased pressure. He feels anger simmering in his mind. The healer shrugs, laughs nervously, and scratches the back of his head. The man turns to the side where he can see Tirron and a few other guards standing. Their eyes are trained on the screen. Their expression is one of patience and peace. Ignoring them for now, he focusses back on the healer.
"Then why is Lord Aragorn alone when he is in the presence of dangerous people?"
"He did not want any guards to go with him."
"And you accepted that soo easily?"
"Uhm, yes, my lord. Lord Aragorn was very convincing."
He growls at the man who jumps back with wide eyes. A hand touches his chest and he heaves for air. The man's entire body trembles. A rueful smile comes over his face. The man has some strength to remain standing after everything.
"Get out!"
The healer nods, turns around, and runs out of the pavilion. Around him, laughter sounds. He glares at the healers while secretly being highly amused by this. He can imagine the man harassing these healers. What would he give to have master Neston here right now?
His eyes turn to Tirron who seems to be focused on something behind him. Following the gaze, he sees another healer calmly walking towards them. The healers around the pavilion are quick to act like they are busy. So this is the one in charge of the pavilion.
"My lord, can I aid you? I just heard the most awful story about you."
Master Nellor looks calmly as he speaks but laughter is audible in his voice. A twinkle shows in his eyes. He does not deem the story awful. He lifts an eyebrow before speaking up.
"Oh have you? I heard Lord Aragorn is behind this screen alone in the presence of dangerous people."
"Alone no. There are apprentices present, two of whom are former soldiers. I deemed it appropriate to send them there for the safety of all."
"So there are guards there."
So the other healer was either wrong or just not informed. Whatever it is, is of no importance. He nods in approval. It is just as he expected. And the people there certainly need protection from his men and each other. From what he heard, they are not very friendly towards each other.
"Is there a reason you ask?"
"Who did I talk to?"
"Just an annoying healer who came with one of the lords. I am afraid I did not bother to learn his name. And I will be glad to see him gone."
"Yes, I can imagine. What did you ask before?"
"I asked: is there a reason you ask?"
"Oh, there is. I need to speak with him about some things."
"If you could wait for a moment, I will get him."
Before he can respond, master Nellor walks past him and moves behind the screen. He grumbles but decides to wait. There is little else he can do at this point though there is one thing which annoys him; why he is not allowed behind the screen. While waiting his mind moves back to all the things they need to discuss.
"Thor, what do you need to speak to me about?"
He looks up to see Gil standing before him. He realizes he was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice the passing of time. Nor anyone approaching him. Looking at Gil, he notices the amused look on Gil's face and glares at him before looking him over. Gil is dressed in some shabby clothing which is sprayed with blood and other things he does not want to know about. He can understand the practicality of those clothes but truthfully they are entirely unsuitable for Gil to wear.
Within moments, he mentions for him to follow him. He does not wait for Gil to respond and turns around. Footsteps sound behind him before Gil catches up on him but does not speak. They quickly make their way out of the pavilion. It does not prevent him from seeing Gil's guards quickly joining up with his own. Have they been here all this time? He shakes his head as they make quick time towards his tents where the guards remain outside. Once inside, Gil finally speaks up and impatience is audible.
"Are you now willing to tell me why you dragged me away from the wounded?"
He turns around looking at Gil who looks amused instead of annoyed. He presses his lips together before nodding. It is high time they talk about these things.
"I would like to know where you want to move everyone to now that the wounded are being seen to."
"Why do you ask me that?"
"Because it is rightfully your decision to make."
"As their healer?"
"No, as the rightful king."
"I am not yet the king."
"I know but you will be in time. Everyone here knows that. They look to you to make the decisions. They always ask for your opinion when I meet with them without you present."
"And you do not like that, am I right?"
He sighs. Where does Gil get this idea from? The actions of the lords are not what is bothering him but his inability to be sure how Gil will want to do things. Everything happens already as if Gil is the king even though nothing is official yet. He is experiencing what the stewards of old faced. And it is quite the experience. For better and worse. Looking at Gil, he speaks up.
"I do not like that I do not know your real opinion but can only make guesses. It is still something for me to get used to.
"Of course, and why do you think we should move the men? Most of the wounded cannot be moved at this time. Their condition simply prevents it."
"I know that. I was not speaking about the severely wounded but about the healthy men as well as some of the less severely wounded."
"Well, I would not want to move them too far from Dagorlad. Maybe to a field not too far from here to the north of the south."
"Well, to the south would be an option but not to the north. We do not know what is out there."
There could be all sorts of dangers out there. Orcs who have fled, brigands, bandits, and whatnot. It is not a good place for the wounded to go to. And that is beside the high need for guards. He is not sure he has enough to be comfortable sending the wounded there. With all this in mind, he nods.
"Aye, and that is also the reason I would not want to leave this camp undefended."
"I never said we would leave this camp undefended."
"I never thought you would, Gil."
"Good, then to the south of our current location is the only viable option. Do you have any ideas Thor as to where specifically you would like to move the men to?"
"I have a few options in mind but am not sure how suitable they are. They each have their good and bad points."
"What options do you think about?"
"Well, maybe Henneth Annûn or Cair Andros if it has already been liberated. I am not sure. Further south of Henneth Annûn."
"Those are suitable options but I have another one; what would you say we sent them to the Field of Cormallen."
"That would be an appropriate location. Even better than those I came up with. It would also allow us to send men back to Minas Tirith once the situation is secure enough."
He nods more to himself than to Gil. Gil smiles at him and he returns it in kind. Gil does not respond. He is waiting for him to speak up. He frowns and tilts his head. As he does so, one thought continuously crosses his mind.
"Who will oversee the setup of the new camp?"
"Well, since you are offering, Thor, why do you not oversee it."
"Can you handle both your duties as healer and leader of this camp?"
He frowns wondering if Gil can handle it. He knows how much work he has and also how much work Gil has. The latter he knows from conversations with healers and his observations. And knowing this, he doubts Gil has the time to handle everything. It will not do for Gil to tire himself out so much. Turning his eyes to Gil, he is met with a smile and twinkling eyes.
"I am sure I will manage. Why do you ask? Do you doubt me?"
"No, not at all, Gil. I was just making certain."
"Good, then I will go back to my duties, or do you want me here with you as you decide who to take and everything else."
"As I will be in charge of the camp you should leave it to me."
Gil nods and quietly steps out of the tent. He rests his head in his hands wondering how he managed to get himself put in charge of the new camp. It just happened so fast. Gil seemed highly amused by his shock at accepting to oversee everything. Well, he will have to figure everything out now. And he will. One way or the other.
For the next few hours, he works out everything which he needs to take with him. Then he starts to look through the sparse records for who to take with him. It takes painstakingly long before he makes any progress at all. Especially as there are some men who he has already decided on to take with him. It forces him to find a way to solve whatever gaps it creates for both camps. Hence the lengthy time to get it done. In the end, he manages to get everything in order and pick all the men he needs. Sighing, he rests his head in his hands once more.
"My lord, your lunch."
His head jumps out of his hands. His eyes instantly focus on the servant who puts a cup of soup on his desk. He nods to her and watches her leave. It draws his eyes to the captain who stands in the entrance of his tent leaning against the pole with his arms crossed over his chest. He lifts an eyebrow at this outright inappropriate behavior. The captain does not react to it for a while until he finally returns to his duty.
Nodding to himself, he turns his attention to his soup. He eats it while finalizing whatever plans for the new camp he has not yet finished to his satisfaction. Before long, he has finished his soup but does not stand up. The heat of his meal has brought the stinging pain in his side back to the forefront of his mind. The wound has healed enough so it does not impede his actions. But still, it distracts him at times.
Taking a deep breath, he stands up and slowly makes his way out of the tent. He knows what he must do now. Find the lieutenants who will oversee all the minor things and assist him. They can be sent ahead of him to find a suitable place and make the necessary preparations. Hopefully, it will ensure the camp is set up in little time.
As he walks, he sees many men walking around. Plenty of Rohirrim, a few low-ranked Gondorians but no lieutenants. He narrows his eyes. Where have they all gone to? No matter what, some should have been around at all times. Even if they do not have much to do. He looks around trying to find any trace of them.
Out of the corner of his eyes, a young page approaches him with nervous steps. His face is too far away to see his expression. Still, he is certain the page's face will reflect his nervousness. He walks towards the page highly interested in finding out why the page is seeking him out. Upon reaching him, the page shuffles around before speaking up with an extremely nervous voice.
"My lord Denethor, can I offer you any aid?"
"Maybe, why do you ask?"
"Well, you looked like you were searching for something."
"You saw that correctly. Can you tell me where all the lieutenants have gone to?"
"The lieutenants? I do not know, my lord."
He narrows his eyes as the page turns his head away. The page again shuffles his eyes and refuses to meet his eyes. It tells him one thing; the page knows the answer to the location of the lieutenants. He is just unwilling to share it. Unacceptable. He will get to the bottom of this. After deciding this, he speaks up.
"You do know. Tell me."
"M…my l…lord?"
"Did I speak a foreign tongue for you? No, then tell me what you know.
"I believe they are in a meeting to discuss the state of this camp. Some mentioned that they wanted to leave here as quickly as possible to return to Minas Tirith. They are worried the city will be attacked."
The page's last words are whispered as if he does not want anyone to hear them. Or maybe he does not notice he spoke them out loud. Denethor smiles amused. This page is barely old enough to be here and extremely excitable. A good combination most of the time but not during the battle. Whoever brought the page with them really should think about it again in the future. He looks the page over carefully and sees how bandages are visible from under his sleeves. It shows the page was present during the battle; something which should not have happened. Once he has seen enough, he speaks up.
"Do you know where they are?"
"Yes, my lord. D…"
"Yes, what is it?"
"Do you want me to guide you towards them?"
"And why would I need a guide? They are not hiding somewhere, are they?"
The page scratches his head and looks around. Denethor has to bite back a smile. The page has been nervous the entire time they talked. His current teasing does not help it. But he cannot stop himself. It is just too amusing. Especially for the current situation. It is just what the men need; something to entertain themselves with. A nervous page would just do. The page bites his lips before he reluctantly looks him in his eyes.
"A bit. They have taken one tent for themselves which looks just like the others. I have had trouble finding them before."
"Then bring me to them, uhm…"
"My name is Ferion, my lord."
He nods to Ferion. Within moments, they start walking. He keeps his eyes on Ferion for a bit to see if his behavior changes. Something which becomes visible after a short time. Ferion walks steadily, and his hands are at his side and do not tremble. A smile is on his face. Nevertheless, Denethor cannot see his eyes so he leaves this matter alone. Even though he is certain Ferion's eyes reflect his calmness. Maybe even happiness. Who knows.
"Ferion, can you tell me why they hide in a tent?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, for them to use a non-descriptive means they are hiding something."
"I do not know what you mean. They just use it to talk to each other without being interrupted."
"Oh, you know what I mean. Your explanation just confirms they are planning something. What is it?"
"Nothing to be afraid of, my lord. They just want to have everything in order in case the camp has to be moved hastily or there is an attack. And they do not want anyone to know about it so that those prisoners cannot learn about it."
"Mhh, that is good reasoning."
The prisoners, he completely forgot to take them into account. They have to be removed from this camp as soon as possible. He prefers to take them to Minas Tirith as soon as possible. They can be better secured there and dealt with at a later time. His head turns towards Ferion who is now walking with a jump in his step. Let's remove it.
"Who do you serve under?"
"What?"
Ferion stops walking almost immediately and turns around. A frown is on his face while a nervous look appears in his eyes. Ferion starts to look everywhere except his face. He tilts his head. Ferion scratches his head in return.
"Lord Amrothos, my lord."
"Oh, so you know their location perfectly. Lord Amrothos works with the lieutenants daily."
"Yes, my lord, he does work with them."
"How do you find your time as a page?"
"It is alright. I am learning a lot."
"I can imagine. So what do you learn?"
"Well, how to manage troops among other things. Father expects me to do so for my brother once I am older. It is the reason why I am serving under lord Amrothos."
"Oh, so you will be serving in the army then."
"My father wants me too."
"But you do not want that, am I right?"
Ferion looks at the grown, a guilty expression on his face. Ferion turns his head away from him while his hands are clenched from time to time. Denethor waits for Ferion to respond to his question. Ferion's next words come out as if they are pulled from behind his teeth.
"No."
"Then what do you want?"
"I want to sail. Nothing more."
"So that is the real reason you serve under lord Amrothos, am I right?"
Ferion did not say it with so many words but it is clear to him; Ferion is not interested in armed service in any way. He would like to go into the navy if armed service were forced upon him or more likely he would prefer to sail with merchants. The martial training his father is pushing on him is not something he enjoys. Ferion blushes this time and looks away again. He nods; his belief has been confirmed.
"Here we are, my lord, may I be excused?"
He looks around his eyes, falling on a non-descriptive tent. Men are hurrying around the area but no lieutenant can be seen. Most men seem to do all they can to steer clear of this tent. He frowns. Is Ferion trying to get rid of him? If not then what is he trying to achieve?
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, my lord. The lieutenants are inside this tent."
He nods and listens carefully for any sound coming from this tent. And indeed, voices come from inside the tent. There are at least some people inside. He is not yet convinced there are lieutenants inside. Now he only has to make sure there are lieutenants inside and Ferion is not setting him up. As such, he mentions for Ferion to enter the tent before him.
A dreadful expression comes over Ferion's face. His eyes narrow. So he is messing with him. There are no lieutenants inside. After a deep breath, Ferion finally steps inside the tent. He follows closely behind him. Silence quickly falls over the tent on their entrance. All eyes turn to them. Well, it has been confirmed the lieutenants were inside.
"Ferion, what is it?"
"Lord Denethor wanted to speak with you, my lord."
"Well, then we can leave Amrothos. Good luck with your uncle. You are going to need it."
"You misunderstand, he wanted to speak with all of you."
"What!"
Multiple voices cry out. Each voicing their displeasure differently. Denethor frowns, wondering what they have been doing here. Certainly, something they do not want him to know about if their reaction is anything to go with. Some men jump up and scurry around the tent. To them, he does not pay any attention.
"Well, Ferion, you have proven to me where I can find the lieutenants. You can leave now."
"Yes, my lord."
He turns his head and is just able to see Ferion leave the tent. Then he turns back to the lieutenants. Those within his sight look at him with guilt written over their faces. He tilts his head now convinced they have done things he would not approve of. It causes him to take a closer look around the tent.
Around the tent, multiple bottles lie on the ground. Papers are scattered over the floor. Some pieces of clothing lie nearby. Food is carelessly thrown into the tent. A few places show signs of someone futilely trying to clean them up. He shakes his head. It is unbefitting of them to leave a place in such a state of disrepair. They all are more than capable of maintaining better order in a tent than this squalor. His narrowed eyes bore into Amrothos.
"What do you have to say for yourself?"
"Nothing, uncle. We only meant to celebrate our victory."
"Mhh, well you should have had this cleaned up before then. However, it is not why I came. I need six of you to prepare to leave immediately. We make our way to the Field of Cormallen where a new camp will be raised."
"My lord, can the wounded even be moved?"
"No, they cannot. We take those who can move with us and some guards. Those who do not join us will be in charge of defending this camp under lord Aragorn's command."
"You mean, you come with us uncle? And leave lord Aragorn in charge of this camp? Why?"
"Yes, Amrothos. I will be joining you. And as for why I leave lord Aragorn in charge? He is our rightful king. He only needs to make his claim and I am sure the crown will be his."
"Yes, uncle. I heard about the return of the king but have not believed those rumors to be truthful."
"Well, they are true. And I will not say more about it."
He looks Amrothos in his eyes, willing his doubts and suspicions to leave his face. He would have expected the lieutenants to have talked about their king already. Now, he is not sure if they have done so. It takes a while before Amrothos nods and looks away. Then he holds out a stack of papers to one of the lieutenants who instantly takes it in his hands.
"Inform these men that we will leave by dawn."
"Yes, my lord."
Field of Cormallen
The next day, he sits on his horse watching the men leave before him. The walking wounded travel at the back of the line barely visible to his eyes while the cavalry goes upfront. Healthy infantry moves the chained prisoners forward. And behind the prisoners, the carts come bearing their immediate supplies. He smiles pleased at the sight. Whoever found those chains or even brought them along should be praised. He waits until the majority of the men have left before urging his horse forward.
As he rides, he keeps a close eye on the different groups. Once they are all suitable underway, he calls the captains to him and gives them the orders regarding the setup of the camp. Orders, he differentiates based on which group has to execute them. They talk for a while about the orders before the captains return to their respective groups. And then he only pays attention to them from the corner of his eyes. He does notice them talking to some of their men but does not know about what.
As for their ride, they luckily do not encounter too many problems. Only a few hiccups with the carts and a few men who turn out to be too tired to continue. They are quickly placed on the carts or a horse before one of the cavalries. It is the only time he allows them to stop for a moment. Something everyone else takes good advantage of. And before long, they continue.
Thanks to all this, they get to their new campsite in a quick time. Denethor dismounts and watches as the captains ensure his orders are followed. A page moves forward to take the reins of his horse which he easily surrenders. Free from this, he walks around the camp to see the progress. It is early but he can see the camp is steadily being set up but still too slow for his actual liking. If it continues like this then they will not have the camp ready by the time more men will be arriving.
Watching over the camp's setup keeps him busy for a long time. Only once he sits down at a campfire with a bowl of food in his hands does he look up at the sky. His eyes widen seeing the setting sun. He has spent nearly the entire day checking the progress without noticing the passing time. He shakes his head in amusement and quickly devours his food before setting out to find Amrothos. Considering the progress he sees along the way, someone needs to oversee everything during the night. There is no time for them to stop right now. This camp has to be fully ready before tomorrow.
He sighs. New men are coming too soon and thus a solution to this problem has to be found. And soon. He increases his steps while looking for his nephew. He walks around the half-built camp unable to find Amrothos. All who he can find are the other captains and lieutenants but none are Amrothos. Just as he is about to question someone, he sees Amrothos talking with a young man near the horses and quickens towards him.
"Amrothos, there you are."
"Uncle? Is something wrong?"
"Yes, a few things are bothering me."
"Ferion, could you leave us for a moment?"
"Of course, my lord. If you excuse me, my lord steward."
He nods, having recognized Ferion only once he got closer to them. Ferion quickly moves away while pulling the horse he was attending along. It allows him to take a better look at Amrothos. Amrothos' trousers are smeared with dirt. His shirt looks as if it has gone through multiple bushes. His boots are even worse. Denethor cannot even recognize what is covering them.
"Uncle?"
"Yes?"
"Why did you seek me out? What is bothering you?"
"The camp will not be ready before the remainder of the new men arrives here."
"I can…well, I get why you say that."
"Yes, and as such someone has to oversee the building during the night. There will be no rest for the men tonight. Not until this camp is finished."
Amrothos face becomes stricken but he does not waver from his belief. The men can rest later. The camp has priority right now. No one will come between it. Amrothos does not take too long before he begins to protest.
"Uncle! You cannot do that."
"And pray to tell me, why can I not do that?"
"Because the men are exhausted. They need their rest."
"And this camp needs to be finished."
"It will not matter if the camp is finished sometime tomorrow instead of tonight."
He glares at Amrothos. Does he not see the need for it? He has no idea who comes with these men. What will people say if they learn he cannot do this job right? There might be allies coming who need to see they have everything well under control. They cannot lose face. Everything always went the way he wanted it to and now? Now, it does not work that way. There are far too many hiccups along the way. He cannot understand this change.
Besides all this, he also does not want Gil to know he could not get this job done. What will his friend even say? At best he will be amused and at the worst upset. He just cannot predict it with certainty. He feels the corners of his mouth tugging. Gil and upset are not something one often sees. It is as if rarely anything can upset him for him to lash out. He is just so calm. It is so annoying at times. He sighs and focuses back on Amrothos.
"Regardless of your belief, you will oversee the construction tonight. If you feel men need to rest then by all means ensure it. But it better not slow the construction down."
"Yes, uncle."
He notices how Amrothos' eyes move behind him and follows the direction of Amrothos' eyes. It is then he sees Gil is moving towards him with a hesitant smile on his face. His eyes widen and he looks around. The camp is not yet ready. And more importantly, why is Gil here? Should he not be looking after the severely wounded? He does not notice Gil reaching them until Amrothos breaks the silence.
"My lord Aragorn, it is good to see you."
"You too, Amrothos. How have you been doing?"
"Oh, I have been busy with building this camp. Something I should return to at the behest of my uncle. If you would excuse me?"
Gil nods but does not say anything more. Silence falls between them while he stares after Amrothos, not sure what to do next. He wonders why Gil is here. However, at the same time, he also does not want to talk about the lack of progress. The silence becomes heavy. He needs to break it but is not sure how to do so.
"Thor? Are you alright?"
"Yes Gil, I am fine."
"Are you sure? You seem extremely distracted."
"I am sure. Why are you here?"
"To check on your wounds of course."
"You know as well as I do that there are others here who can easily do it. You do not need to bother yourself with it."
"Yes, I know and it is no bother."
He stares at Gil with wide eyes. He does not believe the words he hears. Gil is not bothered by it, maybe. But he has too much work to do. Looking up, he frowns. Gil is laughing silently. His frown turns into a glare which he directs at Gil. There is something Gil is not saying right now. And he wants to know what it is.
"Alright, alright, I came with some of the wounded to look after them. They were not well enough to be moved but could not stay there any longer."
"Mhh, what is wrong with them?"
"I am not certain. It could be the air around there but also something else."
"Well, I hope they recover alright here. Have you brought healers with you?"
"For their future care, yes. I will return soon but let me look at your wound first, Thor."
"Those healers you brought with you are more than capable to look after my wound. You do not need to do that."
"Can I not aid a friend?"
"You can."
He shakes his head. What else could he have said? Nothing really. He knows a lost battle when he sees one. And this is a lost battle. Now all he has to do is figure out where Gil will look at his wound. Most likely either in the healing tent or his one. He looks at Gil who smiles at him. He returns the smile and speaks up.
"Where do you want to look at my wound?"
"In the healing tent, preferably. I have everything I need there."
"Of course."
Gil moves away in a direction he knows well enough and follows him. As they walk, he smiles, not at all surprised Gil knows where the healing tent is located. It is most likely the first place he went to when he arrived. Especially as he came with some severely wounded men. He is just glad this tent was prepared the fastest. It will prevent problems from increasing.
Within moments, they arrive at the healing tent. He is directed to a bed in the back of the tent almost immediately. Slowly sitting down, he watches Gil move around the tent collecting various things. While waiting, he looks around the tent. He has not been here before so has no idea how it has been set up.
Most men lie on the beds asleep which are pushed against the side of the tent while healers attend to them. Some are sitting up in the bed talking among each other. Their eyes move towards him from time to time. When they do it, they shuffle around on the bed or fidget with their hands. Their nervousness and interest are tangible. Soon Gil returns and puts everything on the bed beside him. Once Gil has put everything down, he speaks up.
"Do you need me to take my shirt off?"
"That would be appreciated, yes. I cannot look at the wound otherwise."
He laughs and slowly takes his shirt off. He hisses as he pulls more on his wounds than he is strictly comfortable with. At his hisses, Gil looks up with frowned eyebrows and worry visible in his eyes. He smiles at Gil. He smiles reassuringly at Gil. Something which does not comfort Gil considering his deepening frown. It does not take Gil long before he helps him take his shirt off.
Before long and thanks to Gil's aid, his shirt is off and Gil carefully removes the bandages underneath. He presses his lips together in anticipation of the pain and stings when Gil pulls off the bandage covering the cut on his chest. He hisses when a wet bandage touches the bandage suddenly. He looks down with wide eyes. He had not expected a wet bandage to be used. Silently breathes a sigh because he knows he will not be faced with any pain now. The wet bandage will make the bandage's removal more bearable. Gil's voice pulls him from his thoughts.
"Thor, do you have any pain anywhere?"
"No, the cold bandage just surprised me. That is all."
"Of course."
Gil nods and continues. He clenches his fist every time the cold bandage touches his wound. Despite Gil's carefulness, it stings harshly each time and Gil also looks at him. It is as if he notices the stings the bandage causes. He clenches his fist harder and bites his lips when the bandage causes a particularly harsh sting. Nevertheless, the bandage covering his chest comes off quickly and Gil starts to look the wound over. His fingers press on his ribs and feel along the wound.
"Mhh."
Denethor bends forward as much as he can without causing Gil any trouble. He wants to see the wound for himself. A useless effort as Gil's hands obscure his vision and he cannot bend any further. Thus his eyes turn towards Gil and he pays close attention to Gil's face. Any sign on his face could give him an indication of what is going on with his wound.
Gil's face is marked by a frown and a deep concentration. His eyes roam over his chest in conjunction with his hands. His lips are pressed together through the corners lift from time to time. So his wounds are recovering nicely. There is nothing concerning going on. However, something does not add up.
"What is it?"
"Nothing, Thor. Just your wounds are recovering nicely considering how long you have had it."
"That is good to know."
"Yes, it is."
Gil turns to the side and opens a jar. In the jar, he can see some sort of salve. Quickly dipping a piece of cloth in it, he applies the salve on his wound. Soon enough, he finishes with the salve and puts a bandage back on his chest. After looking the bandage over, Gil stands up and looks him in the eyes with a smile on his face.
"Take it easy for a while but I suspect you already knew that."
"Yes, I did."
Gil stands up but does not leave the tent until he raises his eyebrow. Only then does Gil leave and he breathes a sigh of relief. He did not think his wound would be healing badly as he never had any pain or discomfort anywhere. Well, more than was to be expected. He is just relieved to have it confirmed. It will allow him to make better plans for the future.
Sitting here, he leans back on his hands while closing his eyes. He takes a few careful breaths and finds no discomfort. He frowns. It feels strangely easy to breathe. Easier than before. He did not notice before how he was struggling to breathe. It cannot be the result of his wound's healing because it is such a sudden change. Too sudden. Ah, of course; the salve. That is what must have caused it. And it also means the discomfort will return once the salve has stopped working.
Taking another deep breath, he smiles at the ease of it and stands up. Slowly walking out of the tent, he begins to walk around the camp. He should do it now before the discomfort returns. As he walks, he looks over everything going on. A smile grows over his face at what he sees. The progress has gone up. He looks around some more confident everything has gone well with the retreat. They are not yet where he would like to be but he is confident Amrothos has everything well under control. Before midday tomorrow, they will have this camp ready for even more new inhabitants.
Turning around, he quickly walks back to his tent. Knowing all this, he can lie down and rest. Pressing his lips together, he bites back a yawn. Yes, he desperately needs to rest. And before Gil catches wind of his tiredness. Once Gil has returned to the other camp, he does not have to worry about it.
"My lord?"
"What is it, captain?"
"Are you alright?"
"Yes, I am fine. Why do you ask?"
"Well, Lord Aragorn looked at your wounds and if I may say so, you look tired. Maybe you should rest."
"I already planned to rest."
"Of course, my lord. Forgive me for my rudeness."
He hums not at all willing to say anything else. He keeps his eyes locked in front of him. The only thing on his mind being; getting to his tent and lying down. How much rest he will get from it remains to be seen. Who knows what emergencies occur once he is resting. Additionally, any conversations with guards or captains are the least he wants to do.
Before long, he reaches his tent and quickly walks inside. He takes a deep breath and turns back to the opening. He is half expecting some of the guards to have followed him inside. He heaves a sigh of relief at the sight which greets him. No one has followed him. His guards must be outside. They would never leave him alone at any time. Nodding to himself, he walks to his bed and sits down. Slowly leans to the side, he closes his eyes once his head touches the pillow. Pulling his legs up on the bed, he feels his exhaustion catching up on him and darkness creeps in front of his eyes.
Light strikes his closed eyes forcing him to open them and he looks around. Below the doorway, sunlight can be seen. Men are moving around the camp and he can hear the conversation going on between people in his immediate area. Nevertheless, he cannot clearly understand what they are talking about. He listens to it for a moment trying to get any read on it before his mind turns to other things.
He has a lot of work to see done. Too much work. And mostly tasks which cannot be completed if he is in this camp. He has to leave as soon as he can. As for his tasks, he expects Gil will make his claim soon enough. He needs to prepare everything for the crowning as well as to convince the Council of Gondor to approve of Gil as their king. All these things will take more time than he believes they have at this time.
He sighs. He wants to start with these preparations as soon as possible but knows he cannot. He is just glad he made mention of it to Faramir. Hopefully, his son will see to it that some preparations are made. Those which take too much time and those which can be made in advance.
As for himself, he knows his injuries will impede him from overseeing everything. He simply cannot undertake another long journey at this time. Nor will he be allowed to leave with his current injuries. No healer will allow it. And despite being the ruling steward at this time, he cannot win this battle from them. Many he can but never this one. However, they may be a solution; he could write Faramir a letter about everything. Give him more details to work with. He shakes his head. He cannot do it until he has Gil's answers. And this is something he should do something about soon.
But what then can he do now? He has a few ideas. Seeking Gil out, going ahead as if Gil has already made his claim or letting Gil come to him. But which would work best? The second option is useless to him as it might give him more problems than solutions. Especially once the lords learn the claim has not been made. Some might even try to replace him then. And any further claim would be impossible. At the same time, he has to keep everything regarding it in mind.
So he is left with the first and last option. The first one will give him an answer the fastest if Gil is willing to share. But then it might also lead to more rumors circling than there are doing at this time. As for the last option, he suspects it will take the longest. He is not certain how fast Gil will make his claim if he does not push him. This tells him already what the conclusion has to be.
His only option is to seek Gil out soon. The potential rumors he has to accept. He takes a deep breath and hisses at the stinging coming from his chest. The salve must have stopped working. It will make it more difficult now. But then he could do as before. Just ignoring his wounds so he will not feel them. It is the best option he has. It will impede on his work the least.
But for now, he needs to finally rest a bit more. A few more minutes resting will not matter. Who would miss him? No one. Amrothos can handle everything and if Gil is here still then he will most likely be handling everything else. Taking a deep breath, he closes his eyes once more. If Gil is not here then he will have to travel. It will be slower than he would like but he has to accept it. It is the last thought which crosses his mind before sleep overcomes him once more.
Aragorn POV
Standing at the front of the camp, Aragorn looks at the sky. He really should get back to the camp near Morannen but knows this is a better place for his friends to recover. And Éomer, Dan, and Ro are more than capable of handling the camp so there is no immediate need for him to return. Nevertheless, the concern he has about his friends remains the clearest on his mind. They should have been here already. They are far too late.
He shakes his head. He has no idea how much work the Great Eagles of Manwë have in finding them. The Ringbearers could have been hidden somewhere in the rubble that is Mordor. And he saw the eruption of Mount Doom. It has brought so much more rubble down that it makes searching for them even more difficult. He has no idea where it all came down. And the Eagles' size will also work against them. All this is beside the possibility of them needing rest after such a hazardous journey. He knows it is futile but continues to look at the sky hoping to find any sign of them.
"Aragorn, is everything alright?"
He turns around upon hearing the words. Behind him stand Legolas and Gimli. Legolas is frowning while Gimli is leaning on his ax while looking him in his eyes. He shakes his head once more. He should have expected someone to notice his anxiety. He is just glad most of the host has been moved to their current location. Only a small group has remained behind. He is confident they will join him here in a few days. A week at most. But right now, he should ease his friends' concerns.
"I am only waiting for the Eagles to arrive with Sam and Frodo."
"Have they not yet arrived here?"
"No, I have not seen them. And the other healers have also not seen them."
"I would have expected you to be called had they arrived here."
"Me too, Legolas."
"Mhh, then what are you waiting for, lad? You will be called once they arrive."
"For any word of them coming this way, Gimli. I doubt they would be able to recover near Mordor as well as they can here."
"Yes, they have been there for the longest. Who knows how they are doing."
"You tell me, Legolas. I still have that horrible scent in my nose and cannot get it out."
"Oh, maybe a bath would help you with that."
"And where exactly do you think I can find a bath?"
"Mhh, the river would be an option."
"Absolutely not!"
"Come on, Gimli. It is not that bad. We have done so before."
"Yes, when we were among us few. Definitely not when there are so many Gondorians around here. They will faint if they see me bathing."
"And that would be so bad?"
He smiles at Gimli who laughs loudly. He never believed Gimli was shy but this gives it a new view. Truly enjoyable. Legolas catches his eyes and shakes his head.
"Well, if you think it is alright then I will see how those Gondorians react."
As Gimli turns around and walks away, he turns toward Legolas. A question has been burning in his mind ever since his friends joined him. But before he can voice it, Legolas speaks up.
"How do you think Sam and Frodo are?"
"I do not know, Legolas. I have been in Mordor once before and it was not pleasant."
"Aye, I can tell you that. I have only been to the field and did not like it one bit there. Can imagine how bad it would be on the inside."
He turns to his left side where Gimli stands. He lifts an eyebrow surprised Gimli is still here.
"I thought you would have gone bathing."
"And I thought this conversation to be much more interesting."
"Yes, I thought you had gone bathing too but if you want to be around us? By all means, stay. Aragorn, do you know what is up with lord Denethor. I have noticed how he has been treating you so far. It is not as Mithrandir warned us about."
"I am not sure. I am just glad he is not fighting me too much. At least for now."
"You worry what he will do once you officially make the claim?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well, I would not worry too much. I am just glad we managed to survive the battle."
"As am I, Gimli."
His mind moves back to what he saw when Mordor fell just as he speaks these words. The ground collapsed, Mount Doom erupted, and the ground beneath their feet rumbled loudly. Mordor must have been reduced to complete rubble. There could not have been much left behind with any resemblance of usability. It also means finding his friends will be difficult but not impossible. That it was difficult, he knew already. He just has to keep his hope up the eagles will succeed.
"Aragorn, what is wrong?"
"I am just concerned with how long it takes to find them."
"It is indeed concerning but also understandable. Do not worry so much. I am sure they will be alive."
"Aya, alive but how wounded?"
"I imagine quite a bit with how Mordor is and what we saw happening but I cannot know for certain until I see them."
"Yes, yes, lad. I know that. I am just wondering what kind of wounds they will have."
"Most likely burns and dehydration. Anything else is depended on what they have encountered during their travels."
"Yes, it is something which we cannot predict."
He nods to Legolas and watches as Legolas looks to the sky searching for something. He frowns and turns towards Gimli. Catching Gimli's eyes, he sees the same emotions reflected at him. They have hope but are also realistic. As a healer, he knows what either of those wounds - he mentioned - can mean. He turns towards Legolas and allows his eyes to scan the air. He sees small dots in the sky but is not certain what they are. It is then Legolas speaks up.
"They are coming."
"What?"
"Where, lad?"
Legolas points to the sky. He follows the direction. It is where he saw the dots. Now those dots are larger and form shadows quickly moving into their directions. He sees it just as a piercing bird's cry resounds through the air. All the sounds in the camp stop except for the sound of people running, He ignores it and smiles at the moving shadows. The eagles are coming. He watches as they steadily become larger and more distinctive.
Multiple eagles fly towards them at an incredible speed. Soon, they are close enough that he can see a man on the back of one. This is most likely Mithrandir because Sam and Frodo are smaller. He trails his eyes towards the other eagles. Two carry lifeless bodies in their talons. His face blanches. No, it cannot be. They cannot be dead. Not after all the sacrifices, they have made. It cannot end like this.
Before long, his friends are carefully placed on the ground by the Eagles. Aragorn rushes to them to see what has happened to them. Against his own belief, he hopes to find any sign of life. He hears Legolas and Gimli following behind him. Shouting breaks out among the camp as well as sounds of more people running. Calls are made for Thor and the other present captains to come. All things he does ignores because something more important is before him. Frodo is the one he reaches first and he stops dead in his tracks while his eyes roam over Frodo.
Burn marks on Frodo's feet are the first thing he sees. Afterward, he notices how soot covers their entire bodies. Their skin has taken on a very dark tone in contrast to the normal skin tone. Kneeling next to Frodo, he feels along Frodo's neck for a heartbeat when he hears raspy breathing. Looking down, he sees Frodo's chest moving quickly simultaneously with raspy breaths.
A weight falls off his shoulders which he did not know was present. He takes a deep breath before looking more closely at Frodo. One thing quickly catches his eyes; Frodo's hand. A finger is missing. His eyes widen at this sight as he quickly turns into his healer's state of mind. He starts to feel Frodo over for other injuries. Alongside his neck and over his chest, the skin is inflamed as if the chain which held the One ring pressed deeply into it. Parched lips are visible but nothing else.
Knowing what injuries Frodo has, he begins to determine which injuries have the highest priority. Water and food are the most important thing right now but not as important as the amputated finger. He can leave everything else as it is for now. The potential infection, starvation, and dehydration are the ones most likely to kill Frodo if they are not treated. Stroking Frodo's head, he looks up towards Sam.
Master Nellor kneels next to Sam and their eyes catch each other. They share a grim look between them. He nods and turns his head around. Legolas and Gimli are looking at him with concern. In the distance, healers are pushing their way with difficulty through the gathered men. His eyes turn back to Legolas and Gimli, and he smiles at them. A smile which does not reassure him or them. Their faces retain their grim appearance. A young man walks towards him with an anxious expression is on his face.
"Sire, what do you need?"
"I need stretchers and beds in the healing tent to be prepared."
"Of course, Sire, I will see to it. Do you need anything else?"
"The stretchers and beds are the most important. I would appreciate it if you would tell the assistants to prepare everything for severely injured men. They will know what to do."
"Yes, Sire. I will do as you request."
He nods and watches as the young man turns around. The young man pushes his way through the gathered men to the healers who just got through the ranks of onlookers. He glares at onlookers, hoping it gets them to move out of the way. No matter how long he stares at them, it does not have the effect he desires.
His eyes turn back to the young man who talks with the healers most likely relaying his instructions. Once the young man has stopped talking, it does not take the healers long before they jump into action. Two healers push their way through the onlookers while the remainder carefully put Sam and Frodo on the stretchers. The healers step back as eight guards move forward suddenly and bend down to lift the stretcher when a voice disrupts the silence.
"What do you think you all are doing here!"
Aragorn struggles to keep the smile off his face because he recognizes the voice instantly. He turns his head in the direction of the voice and sees Thor standing on the side with a furious expression on his face. Thor's face is also heating up. When their eyes meet, Thor turns fully towards him and mentions with his hands.
"You eight should just do as lord Aragorn has instructed. As for the rest of you, what do you have to say for yourselves?"
This time, he cannot stop himself and laughs while shaking his head. Master Nellor steps up next to him and mentions with his hands towards the stretcher-bearers. He nods at him and slowly walks towards the healing tent confident the stretcher-bearers are following them. Once they reach the onlookers, they instantly open up a pathway for them. They allow them to walk on without any problems. Once they have made it through the line of onlookers, Thor has had enough of the silence as his voice resounds loudly through the air.
"Nothing! Did you think this was a nice show to watch? You should all …"
Turning a corner, he fails to hear what Thor is berating them for. Even though he has a good idea of what beratings they are receiving. He shares a look with master Nellor who shows the same compassion he feels for those poor and foolish men. Truthfully, they should have known better. But they will now know how angry Thor will be in the future as well as in how much trouble they will be. One thing is for certain, they will never do it again. They have all learned their lesson. Or so he hopes.
Their walk to the healing tent takes less time than he expected. He waits with master Nellor in the front of the tent and mentions for the guards to walk on. Those inside the tent will know what to do. Nearly instantly, the other healers quickly converge on them. Out of the corner of his eyes, he watches as a few assistants carefully move Sam and Frodo from their stretcher to one of the field beds. He takes a deep breath and turns his eyes to the healers. They have a curious look directed at him. He does not fully understand it. One of the assistants steps forward and speaks up.
"Sire, what do you need to treat the Perianneth? We have begun some preparations but are not sure we have thought of everything as we do not know the full extent of their injuries."
"Bandages, crème, a few bowls of steaming water, a pitcher of cold water, and something to treat an amputation with."
"Of course, I will see to it."
"Master Nellor, if you could attend to Sam with the aid of a few healers and assistants then I will attend to Frodo."
"With the aid of assistants and healers, am I right?"
"You are."
He smiles calmly at master Nellor who still stares at him suspiciously. He did not think he would do everything alone, did he? His face gives him the impression master Nellor certainly thought so. As they wait for the equipment to be brought, he talks with master Nellor about treatment options. The other healers and a few assistants join them and listen attentively to their conversation. From time to time, one of the assistants speaks up with their suggestions. More than one is a wrong approach. Aragorn patiently explains it to the assistant who asks him questions.
Soon, the other assistants return with the requested equipment and they set to work. A glance up shows master Nellor is busy treating Sam's wounds. Nodding to himself, he turns his attention on the most severe wound, the finger, while the others treat everything else.
Stepping out of the healers' tent, Aragorn looks at the sky. Taking a deep breath, he smells the fresh air around him and smiles. This is much better than what he just had to go through. No matter what, the last hours will never fully disappear and remain ingrained in his mind. Opening his eyes, he looks at the bright blue sky and listens to what happens around them. People bustle around him. He cannot fully tell with what as too many sounds reach his ears. He keeps breathing deeply to slow his fast-beating heart down. It beat steadily faster the longer he attended on Frodo. So far, it has not slowed yet.
Once his heart finally beats with an acceptable speed, he walks away from the tent. As he walks, his mind moves towards the injuries he saw. He had checked them earlier but in the healing tent, he finally had the time to truly consider them. Frodo had severe burn wounds on his feet; probably from walking through Mordor. Frodo was also severely dehydrated, most likely due to the same reason as what caused the burns. Both Frodo and Sam were thin, much too thin for his liking. He knows how difficult it can be to find food in Mordor which is not poisonous. Nevertheless, they should have had enough food not be so starved.
But Frodo's most severe wound was the amputated finder. From the marks on the skin, it seems as if the finger was bitten off. He has no idea how it could have happened or who could have done it. The marks almost seemed like Golem but he hasn't seen him in years. As for the finger, it was the one on which Frodo would have placed the One ring had he worn it. Considering this, it would have made more sense if the finger was cut off. Nevertheless, he can exclude one suspect, namely the orcs. The bite marks do not correspond to the teeth he knows the orcs have. As such, Golem might have done it.
Sighing, he looks at the sky. The sight of his friends and their injuries greatly saddened him. He just would have wanted to be able to do more for them. Such as easing their pain more. It is something he knows is not possible. Nevertheless, he has made sure they got something to drink from one of the assistants as well as some broth to eat. Hopefully, it will mitigate some of their hunger and thirst he knows they must have. And if they keep it down then they can give them some of the pain medication. He is hesitant to give it to them otherwise.
As for the other wounds, he has made sure they were treated accordingly. The burns were covered in burn salve and bandaged. The amputated finger, he stitched, covered in some healing salve, and also bandaged. Hopefully, no infection will set in. It is something he will have to check on repeatedly. Or have an assistant do it.
Turning a corner, he sees a young soldier limping and frowns. Another soldier quickly catches up with the first. They are too far away but he can tell from the way they interact that the first is getting berated. He smiles at the sight. So memorable of Halbarad and him. Well, whenever Halbarad berated him for not taking care of his health that is.
The soldiers walk into a tent just as his mind moves back to his earlier thoughts. He knows he has done all he can but still does not feel satisfied. A lot of ideas of what he could have done differently are going through his mind. Such as his desire to go with them to Mount Doom. Just as he promised them. He knows how dangerous it would have been for him. But he would have accepted it. Especially, as he then might have been able to aid them better. Maybe even prevent them from getting so many injuries.
"Aragorn!"
He looks up in the direction the voice came from. In the distance, Legolas and Gimli are making their way towards him. Every soldier who is in their path quickly jumps out of their way. It is all he sees before he focuses on Legolas and Gimli again. Their faces are covered by frowns. He smiles at their approach. Hopefully, his doubts will leave him soon. Especially, as he has no idea where it comes from. Right now, he has to see what is bothering his friends. It does not take them long to reach him and when they do Legolas is quick to speak up.
"Aragorn, what is troubling you?"
"Just…I just started to wonder if it might have been better had I gone with them."
"Why?"
"I could have protected them. Maybe prevented the worst of their injuries. I don't know. I don't know where these thoughts suddenly come from."
"Maybe you could have, but you would likely have been unable to change anything. And you might have gotten as injured as them or potentially worse."
"I would have accepted it."
"I know you would have. But Aragorn, you always knew you were needed here and not with them. Why the doubt now?"
"As I said before, I don't know."
"Well, I say you can only work forward. Thinking about the past will do no one any good. Think about what it would have done for Thorin or my other kin had they been doubting themselves."
"You are right, Gimli."
"Of course, I am. I am always right."
Legolas laughs and he joins him. Gimli is right in that he cannot change the past. But he is not always right. He just has to work with the current situation. Even if he does not like it. Walking on, Legolas and Gimli follow him.