DISCLAIMER: All LOTR stuff owned by Tolkien, not me. Rated 'R' for
suicide/rape plot devices and angst. `` Means elvish, --- signals a song or
something, [words] mean thinking. R/R. Thanks... and don't forget to Enjoy!
A/N: This chapter takes place a week later in Minas Tirith in Gondor. I used the 'poem' for athelas from Tolkien, so don't shoot.
After many days of lacking sunlight and warmth, the Tiritheans were pleased to see the heavenly sun in the clear cerulean blue of the sky above. A crisp, fresh air and breeze drifted through the streets of the town in Gondor. Yet, not all was well and good--- many had died in the battle days previous, and many will now either sick or helping those that were wounded. A few of the soldiers were struck with a condition they called "Black Death" because the patients face paled and shadowed and there was a black substance mixed in with blood on open cuts and wounds. Eowyn, Faramir, Pippin, Merry, Elesen, and Torrent had all been attacked by it during battle, due to the close contact with the poisoned weapons of the enemy.
All six were in houses of healing, seeking relief, or death. Eowyn and Torrent fought strongly, and sought death in battle, which they seemingly currently found. Faramir, Pippin, Merry and Elesen struggled with black, morbid dreams and fevers as they fought to remain alive for another day. Healers were frantically searching for a cure to aid the people who seemed of great importance to their soon-to-be-king, Aragorn. "The hands of a King are the hands of a Healer, and so shall the rightful king be known."
Aragorn remembered the old saying, and spoke to one of the healers that buzzed around Elesen and the hobbits. "Do you have any athelas young miss?"
"Athelas? Is that not a herb of lore?"
"Nay, it is only thought to be so, but in real recognition, the weed does exist. Tell me, have you any?"
"I would not know, but my supervisor may, my lord."
"Then please check, for it may mean the life or death of my companions."
"Aye, my lord," said the young woman as she rushed off to find her supervisor.
Aragorn paced in the room, stopping at each of his friends' beds and looking upon them wistfully in melancholy. "None of them deserved this," he thought aloud. "They were all dragged into this business, when they could have been safe back where they came from."
"Yet, everyone has a purpose and meaning, Aragorn," spoke a voice, returning Aragorn's thoughts.
"Legolas…" spoke the half-elf slowly. He was surprised to see Legolas here, at all, for he had not seen Legolas set foot into any of the houses of healing, not even into the one that contained Torrent. "What are you doing in here?"
"I tire of hoping to see the well-being of my companions. I wish to look upon them, and force myself to realize that all may not be well in the end, Aragorn."
"So I see. What worries you so?"
"That they may actually be wishing for death," said the somber elf at length. "Aragorn… What if… What if they want to die? To never reawake?"
"Then may they slip away in peace without any pain or suffering, and move on to a place they shall be happy in," spoke the half-elf slowly; trying to chose his words carefully, with meaning.
"I see," Legolas said softly.
"How is the gash on your side?"
"It fares quite well, yet it still pangs. There probably was poison on that blade, Aragorn."
"But, not enough to put you in their state."
"Correct."
"What news of her, Legolas?"
"Pardon?" asked Legolas. Aragorn gave him a knowing look, and the elf understood.
"I would not know yet, Aragorn. This is the first house of healing I've been in since the war was over."
"Maybe you should check."
"How about 'we' check, what say you, Aragorn?"
"'Tis fine with me," Aragorn said, as the healer he had spoken with earlier returned with an older woman, whom held a leather bag tightly. "Ah, so you return! Tell me, have you any athelas?"
"See ma'am? I told you he was here! I said he asked for the weed!" the younger healer said frantically.
"Hush young one, I believed you. Sire, what use of this do you have?"
"Do you not know the old saying of the weed, ma'am? 'When the black breath blows, and death's shadow grows, and all lights pass, come athelas! Come athelas! Life to the dying! In the king's hand lying!'"
"Yes, I know of it. Yet, I do not think that this plant is well enough for the intention---"
"Well, what say you woman? Let these fine people die? Nay, I shall not give up on them all just yet. Quickly---fetch me some boiling water, about six bowls of it, and let me set to work."
"Yes, lord!" spoke the two healers quickly before they went to receive what was requested of them. They returned momentarily, and handed Aragorn four bowls of steaming hot water, which he placed on nightstands next to the four friends, who lay unconscious, fatigued, and drugged. Large leaves of athelas were given to Aragorn, and he broke them up into the bowls, allowing them to sit, and for the scent of them to travel around the room. Dipping his fore and middle fingers into the water, he rubbed the athelas water onto the forehead of Merry and spoke a blessing. At the end of the short blessing, he beckoned Merry to awake, which the hobbit did drowsily. "Awake, Meriadoc! The shadow has passed! Awake!" The halflings eyes fluttered open to the sight of Aragorn, two healers, and Legolas.
"Where am I, Aragorn?"
"In the houses of healing in Minas Tirith, young one. You have awoken from a black sleep by the help of us all, and athelas."
"Dear me," Merry moaned, as his faced tensed and bunched. "My head… It hurts so much,"
"He is not yet used to loud noises. Allow him to rest here for a week, along with the others when they are awake. Explain to them why they must rest, if need be."
"Yes, sire," replied the young healer. Aragorn repeated the action to Faramir, Pippin and Elesen, and they all woke in the same manner as Merry. Elesen, however, awoke saying something in a lost tongue, that none understood, and repeatedly thanked Aragorn before resting again. Aragorn and Legolas then went to another house of healing with heated water and sprigs of athelas to treat Eowyn and Torrent, who had more severe injuries than the rest. The two had gotten scuffed-up pretty well, and had several gashes and wounds upon them. Eowyn had received a broken arm, dislocated elbow, and many cuts and punctures along her arms and legs, and Torrent had a deep wound on her back, cuts on her limbs and broken wrist bestowed upon her.
The rising and falling of the two's chests could barely be seen, and both had not moved at all, or made any signs of living since they were brought back to the capital. Aragorn tended to Eowyn first who was then watched over by her brother Eomer and questioned him about things that had happened, be it dreams or not. Eowyn, however, took coaxing to bring out of her sleep, and this unnerved Aragorn. [Maybe we have waited too long,] thought the half-elf as he looked down upon the other form.
Torrent had a low golden glow from her, and it caused the bloodstains from re-opened cuts on her flesh to stand out. Her eyes were completely open, unusual for a sleeping elf, and she looked utmost sad. She wore a white robe with no sleeves, so that the healers could tend to the cuts on her arms while she slept soundlessly. Yet, her eyes intrigued the two, for they were of golden color, not the usual green-emerald tone that belonged to her.
"Were her eyes always this color?" Aragorn queried Legolas.
"No, Aragorn… But they were this color when I found her."
The two grew silent again and pondered. At last, a gasp was heard from Aragorn, and he looked at Legolas. "The Ring! Where is it?"
"What?"
"The Ring, Legolas! She had a ring, remember? Where is it?"
"On a chain about her neck, as Frodo wore his." Aragorn looked for any jewelry and noticed none, and asked a healer if they had seen any on her neck. The healer told him that she had nothing about her neck, and even if she did, it would have been removed. Legolas again grew worried and held up her right hand. On her third finger, a golden ring, glowing in a dim blue light with bright runes, was one her third finger.
"Aragorn…She is wearing it."
"This cannot be well…"
"How do you figure?"
"It is a magic Ring, correct?"
"To my knowledge, yes."
"Well then, we have no way of telling whether or not it is good or evil. She may be feeding power to Sauron right now."
Legolas placed two fingers on her throat and felt for a pulse. There was one immanent, however shallow it was. "Or it could be keeping her alive, Aragorn," Legolas said plaintively. "If we remove it, we could kill her… Like she wished."
"We shall not do that, for the foes that seek her are all dead, and she has reason to live."
"How do you figure that?"
"As you said to me earlier, Legolas, 'everyone has a purpose and meaning'. Maybe her purpose resides with someone here," Aragorn said wistfully. He began to think, and finally spoke again at length. "Here's what we shall do, Legolas: I will break up the leaves into the water, and let them sit, and as I finish saying the blessing, and put the water upon her brow, you remove the Ring. Hopefully, that will work, and if not…"
"If not…?"
"If not, I am eternally sorry, my friend."
Realizing that taking a risk was better than none, Legolas nodded his head, and awaited Aragorn's signal. The smell of the herb filled the room, and made the air seem a bit fresh, even though it had felt the same when this was done to Eowyn. Heart racing, breath deepening, Legolas placed his fingers atop the Ring as Aragorn signaled him to remove it. A haze passed over the golden eyes of the elf and they widened as she coughed up dark blood. Aragorn stroked her brow, and spoke soft elvish to her, as Legolas silently hoped she'd live. Torrent's eyes faded in and out, turning white, gold, grey, and faded green again. Her breath deepened, and her pulse wasn't as shallow as she regained knowledge of the world around her.
"Where have I come to?"
"Minas Tirith in Gondor," Aragorn informed her.
"That cannot be… I died, and Sauron burnt down Minas Tirith! And my Ring--- they have it!"
"No, the capital yet lives, and Sauron is dead forever now. No essence of him yet exists, Torrent. Your Ring still remains, yet why did you put it on?"
"I was wearing it? Blast! I could have died not wearing it…"
"We know that," said a gloomy voice, that which belonged to Legolas.
"I shall leave you two for now," said Aragorn with a smile. With that, the half-elf left the room, and went to attend to others who needed his help. Legolas took a stool and sat beside Torrent's bedside, head resting on his folded hands. As he gazed down at her in this pitiful state she was forced to remain in, he grew angry with her. [She wanted death in battle---she looked for it! Yet now she lives… And is ungrateful that we brought her back.]
"So, do you still wish that I would be the one to kill you?" Legolas asked in a sour tone of voice, and an angered expression on his elven face.
"I am genuinely sorry, Legolas. I—"
"Grief would have taken me down if I had killed you, or if you had died. Let us leave it at that. Rest now. I will look upon you in a week, when you are not in such a pitiful state."
Legolas spoke ireful to her, which caused her pain, and made her turn to dreams for solace. The war had changed them all, even if for worse rather than better. [Maybe it would be best that I abandon all feelings for him?], she pondered while drifting back into a healing sleep. An emptiness filled her, and she felt repine towards him. A new spring had come in Gondor, yet no love was in the air. Remorse, yes, for many had died, and toiled in the battle. Yet, rejoicing could, and would, be found in a month: when Aragorn would be crowned and wed to Arwen, lady of Rivendell. [That shall be the day I secretly depart,], thought Torrent, as she finally drifted back into dreams.
A/N: This chapter takes place a week later in Minas Tirith in Gondor. I used the 'poem' for athelas from Tolkien, so don't shoot.
After many days of lacking sunlight and warmth, the Tiritheans were pleased to see the heavenly sun in the clear cerulean blue of the sky above. A crisp, fresh air and breeze drifted through the streets of the town in Gondor. Yet, not all was well and good--- many had died in the battle days previous, and many will now either sick or helping those that were wounded. A few of the soldiers were struck with a condition they called "Black Death" because the patients face paled and shadowed and there was a black substance mixed in with blood on open cuts and wounds. Eowyn, Faramir, Pippin, Merry, Elesen, and Torrent had all been attacked by it during battle, due to the close contact with the poisoned weapons of the enemy.
All six were in houses of healing, seeking relief, or death. Eowyn and Torrent fought strongly, and sought death in battle, which they seemingly currently found. Faramir, Pippin, Merry and Elesen struggled with black, morbid dreams and fevers as they fought to remain alive for another day. Healers were frantically searching for a cure to aid the people who seemed of great importance to their soon-to-be-king, Aragorn. "The hands of a King are the hands of a Healer, and so shall the rightful king be known."
Aragorn remembered the old saying, and spoke to one of the healers that buzzed around Elesen and the hobbits. "Do you have any athelas young miss?"
"Athelas? Is that not a herb of lore?"
"Nay, it is only thought to be so, but in real recognition, the weed does exist. Tell me, have you any?"
"I would not know, but my supervisor may, my lord."
"Then please check, for it may mean the life or death of my companions."
"Aye, my lord," said the young woman as she rushed off to find her supervisor.
Aragorn paced in the room, stopping at each of his friends' beds and looking upon them wistfully in melancholy. "None of them deserved this," he thought aloud. "They were all dragged into this business, when they could have been safe back where they came from."
"Yet, everyone has a purpose and meaning, Aragorn," spoke a voice, returning Aragorn's thoughts.
"Legolas…" spoke the half-elf slowly. He was surprised to see Legolas here, at all, for he had not seen Legolas set foot into any of the houses of healing, not even into the one that contained Torrent. "What are you doing in here?"
"I tire of hoping to see the well-being of my companions. I wish to look upon them, and force myself to realize that all may not be well in the end, Aragorn."
"So I see. What worries you so?"
"That they may actually be wishing for death," said the somber elf at length. "Aragorn… What if… What if they want to die? To never reawake?"
"Then may they slip away in peace without any pain or suffering, and move on to a place they shall be happy in," spoke the half-elf slowly; trying to chose his words carefully, with meaning.
"I see," Legolas said softly.
"How is the gash on your side?"
"It fares quite well, yet it still pangs. There probably was poison on that blade, Aragorn."
"But, not enough to put you in their state."
"Correct."
"What news of her, Legolas?"
"Pardon?" asked Legolas. Aragorn gave him a knowing look, and the elf understood.
"I would not know yet, Aragorn. This is the first house of healing I've been in since the war was over."
"Maybe you should check."
"How about 'we' check, what say you, Aragorn?"
"'Tis fine with me," Aragorn said, as the healer he had spoken with earlier returned with an older woman, whom held a leather bag tightly. "Ah, so you return! Tell me, have you any athelas?"
"See ma'am? I told you he was here! I said he asked for the weed!" the younger healer said frantically.
"Hush young one, I believed you. Sire, what use of this do you have?"
"Do you not know the old saying of the weed, ma'am? 'When the black breath blows, and death's shadow grows, and all lights pass, come athelas! Come athelas! Life to the dying! In the king's hand lying!'"
"Yes, I know of it. Yet, I do not think that this plant is well enough for the intention---"
"Well, what say you woman? Let these fine people die? Nay, I shall not give up on them all just yet. Quickly---fetch me some boiling water, about six bowls of it, and let me set to work."
"Yes, lord!" spoke the two healers quickly before they went to receive what was requested of them. They returned momentarily, and handed Aragorn four bowls of steaming hot water, which he placed on nightstands next to the four friends, who lay unconscious, fatigued, and drugged. Large leaves of athelas were given to Aragorn, and he broke them up into the bowls, allowing them to sit, and for the scent of them to travel around the room. Dipping his fore and middle fingers into the water, he rubbed the athelas water onto the forehead of Merry and spoke a blessing. At the end of the short blessing, he beckoned Merry to awake, which the hobbit did drowsily. "Awake, Meriadoc! The shadow has passed! Awake!" The halflings eyes fluttered open to the sight of Aragorn, two healers, and Legolas.
"Where am I, Aragorn?"
"In the houses of healing in Minas Tirith, young one. You have awoken from a black sleep by the help of us all, and athelas."
"Dear me," Merry moaned, as his faced tensed and bunched. "My head… It hurts so much,"
"He is not yet used to loud noises. Allow him to rest here for a week, along with the others when they are awake. Explain to them why they must rest, if need be."
"Yes, sire," replied the young healer. Aragorn repeated the action to Faramir, Pippin and Elesen, and they all woke in the same manner as Merry. Elesen, however, awoke saying something in a lost tongue, that none understood, and repeatedly thanked Aragorn before resting again. Aragorn and Legolas then went to another house of healing with heated water and sprigs of athelas to treat Eowyn and Torrent, who had more severe injuries than the rest. The two had gotten scuffed-up pretty well, and had several gashes and wounds upon them. Eowyn had received a broken arm, dislocated elbow, and many cuts and punctures along her arms and legs, and Torrent had a deep wound on her back, cuts on her limbs and broken wrist bestowed upon her.
The rising and falling of the two's chests could barely be seen, and both had not moved at all, or made any signs of living since they were brought back to the capital. Aragorn tended to Eowyn first who was then watched over by her brother Eomer and questioned him about things that had happened, be it dreams or not. Eowyn, however, took coaxing to bring out of her sleep, and this unnerved Aragorn. [Maybe we have waited too long,] thought the half-elf as he looked down upon the other form.
Torrent had a low golden glow from her, and it caused the bloodstains from re-opened cuts on her flesh to stand out. Her eyes were completely open, unusual for a sleeping elf, and she looked utmost sad. She wore a white robe with no sleeves, so that the healers could tend to the cuts on her arms while she slept soundlessly. Yet, her eyes intrigued the two, for they were of golden color, not the usual green-emerald tone that belonged to her.
"Were her eyes always this color?" Aragorn queried Legolas.
"No, Aragorn… But they were this color when I found her."
The two grew silent again and pondered. At last, a gasp was heard from Aragorn, and he looked at Legolas. "The Ring! Where is it?"
"What?"
"The Ring, Legolas! She had a ring, remember? Where is it?"
"On a chain about her neck, as Frodo wore his." Aragorn looked for any jewelry and noticed none, and asked a healer if they had seen any on her neck. The healer told him that she had nothing about her neck, and even if she did, it would have been removed. Legolas again grew worried and held up her right hand. On her third finger, a golden ring, glowing in a dim blue light with bright runes, was one her third finger.
"Aragorn…She is wearing it."
"This cannot be well…"
"How do you figure?"
"It is a magic Ring, correct?"
"To my knowledge, yes."
"Well then, we have no way of telling whether or not it is good or evil. She may be feeding power to Sauron right now."
Legolas placed two fingers on her throat and felt for a pulse. There was one immanent, however shallow it was. "Or it could be keeping her alive, Aragorn," Legolas said plaintively. "If we remove it, we could kill her… Like she wished."
"We shall not do that, for the foes that seek her are all dead, and she has reason to live."
"How do you figure that?"
"As you said to me earlier, Legolas, 'everyone has a purpose and meaning'. Maybe her purpose resides with someone here," Aragorn said wistfully. He began to think, and finally spoke again at length. "Here's what we shall do, Legolas: I will break up the leaves into the water, and let them sit, and as I finish saying the blessing, and put the water upon her brow, you remove the Ring. Hopefully, that will work, and if not…"
"If not…?"
"If not, I am eternally sorry, my friend."
Realizing that taking a risk was better than none, Legolas nodded his head, and awaited Aragorn's signal. The smell of the herb filled the room, and made the air seem a bit fresh, even though it had felt the same when this was done to Eowyn. Heart racing, breath deepening, Legolas placed his fingers atop the Ring as Aragorn signaled him to remove it. A haze passed over the golden eyes of the elf and they widened as she coughed up dark blood. Aragorn stroked her brow, and spoke soft elvish to her, as Legolas silently hoped she'd live. Torrent's eyes faded in and out, turning white, gold, grey, and faded green again. Her breath deepened, and her pulse wasn't as shallow as she regained knowledge of the world around her.
"Where have I come to?"
"Minas Tirith in Gondor," Aragorn informed her.
"That cannot be… I died, and Sauron burnt down Minas Tirith! And my Ring--- they have it!"
"No, the capital yet lives, and Sauron is dead forever now. No essence of him yet exists, Torrent. Your Ring still remains, yet why did you put it on?"
"I was wearing it? Blast! I could have died not wearing it…"
"We know that," said a gloomy voice, that which belonged to Legolas.
"I shall leave you two for now," said Aragorn with a smile. With that, the half-elf left the room, and went to attend to others who needed his help. Legolas took a stool and sat beside Torrent's bedside, head resting on his folded hands. As he gazed down at her in this pitiful state she was forced to remain in, he grew angry with her. [She wanted death in battle---she looked for it! Yet now she lives… And is ungrateful that we brought her back.]
"So, do you still wish that I would be the one to kill you?" Legolas asked in a sour tone of voice, and an angered expression on his elven face.
"I am genuinely sorry, Legolas. I—"
"Grief would have taken me down if I had killed you, or if you had died. Let us leave it at that. Rest now. I will look upon you in a week, when you are not in such a pitiful state."
Legolas spoke ireful to her, which caused her pain, and made her turn to dreams for solace. The war had changed them all, even if for worse rather than better. [Maybe it would be best that I abandon all feelings for him?], she pondered while drifting back into a healing sleep. An emptiness filled her, and she felt repine towards him. A new spring had come in Gondor, yet no love was in the air. Remorse, yes, for many had died, and toiled in the battle. Yet, rejoicing could, and would, be found in a month: when Aragorn would be crowned and wed to Arwen, lady of Rivendell. [That shall be the day I secretly depart,], thought Torrent, as she finally drifted back into dreams.