I think the italics worked. I'll need to check, but I think it did!
Here's the next chapter. See? I'm not that evil. This does include some flashbacks so you can see what happened to Faramir. Hope you like it!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Regret
Aragorn did not want to go into the tent. He did not want to see Éowyn, always so proud, with her shoulders slumped and her eyes dimmed. The King of Gondor shook his head in frustration. //This is all my fault! I should have sensed the ambush, should have kept an eye on Faramir, should have, should have. . .// His mind continued to berate him on his failings and he thought about the night of the attack and ambush, the night his brother was mortally wounded.
*^*flashback*^*
"Your Highnesses, the orcs raiding Tumbar number only twenty. The villagers are holding them off, but even so they are being beaten badly for they do not have many weapons."
King Aragorn nodded his thanks at his scout and turned to Éomer and Faramir. "Shall we show these orcs how the warriors of Rohan and Gondor fight?"
Éomer grinned. "It would be my honor to personally show those demons the edge of my sword."
"Faramir?"
The Steward of Gondor's face stayed passive. "I am ready at your command, my king."
Aragorn held back a frown. He knew Faramir hated fighting, hated violence of any kind though he was the greatest swordsman in Gondor besides himself. But even though they had not fought in many battles together, Aragorn knew that Faramir was acting strangely. He had barely spoken the entire ride to Tumbar and Aragorn didn't know if it was because of the fight with Éowyn or some premonition of things to come. But the King of Gondor had no time to find out the reason. He had to protect his people. Drawing his sword Aragorn spared the time for one last glance at his brother before ordering the charge.
The twenty orcs were quickly taken care of. Aragorn let out a breath of relief that the battle was over so quickly. He turned to Faramir beside him and frowned. The Steward stared into the darkness, at the hills around the village. "What is it Faramir?"
"I do not know, I just feel. . . " Faramir frowned. He knew something was wrong, something about those hills, but what was it? Sudden realization struck him as he saw a dark shape on the hill. In an instant Faramir saw the shape raise something, a bow, arrow pointing straight at the King of Gondor. "Estel!" With a burst of strength, Faramir knocked Aragorn off his horse, the arrow missing the King by inches. Faramir dismounted Belgir as more arrows filled the sky. "Ambush!" he cried as the screeches of orcs sounded from the hills.
The surprised army was barely able to hold their ground at the first assault. Aragorn had quickly regained his feet after the fall. //Why didn't I see this coming?// Frustrated by his lack of foresight, the King took out his rage on the orcs. He was so distracted by his anger that he didn't see the orc that snuck up behind him. A shrill scream sounded close behind Aragorn, and he turned in time to see the orc fall headless to the ground, Faramir standing above it. Aragorn couldn't look long, as another orc attacked, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw Faramir bent over clutching his side. Dispatching the orc, Aragorn turned again but Faramir was standing straight, fighting as if nothing had happened. Shrugging mentally, Aragorn returned to the battle.
*^*end flashback*^*
Aragorn blinked back tears. //I should have known better. I should have see that he was injured, should have looked for him before anything else. I should have calmed myself enough to know that he was missing.//
*^*flashback*^*
The moans of the injured permeated the tents. The sun was reaching its peak, but it did nothing to warm the wounded in the cold winds of October. Villagers and soldiers alike laid in makeshift cots, some in tents, some in the remaining houses of Tumbar. The battle was over, the orcs were destroyed, but still Aragorn could find no rest.
"Eregdir, hold this man down." The soldier dutifully obeyed his king, holding a fellow warrior so that Aragorn could dress the painful leg wound. With the army healers overtaxed with the wounded, every able-bodied soldier was recruited to help.
Aragorn went from patient to patient, trying desperately to help those he could. He stopped at an old woman, her skin burnt from one of the fires set by the orcs. There was no dressing covering the burn nor on the wound in her shoulder from an orc blade. Aragorn angrily turned to Eregdir. "Why has this woman not been treated?"
"She's marked red. There's nothing we can do, Sire."
The King of Gondor gritted his teeth. Those marked red were considered beyond help. Green meant they could wait, while yellow meant they could be saved if they were treated quickly. Black was the color of those already dead. //Curse those foul orcs! Curse them that we have to choose who we can try to save and wait for the others to die!// "Who's there?" Aragorn knelt by the woman, who was barely conscious yet still aware of her surroundings. He knew she had to be in agony, but he could do nothing but perhaps ease her passing with words.
"I am. . . Estel."
"Where's m'grandaughter? Where's Silhin?"
Not knowing for sure, Aragorn told her what he hoped was the truth. "She's fine. We are taking good care of her. You need to rest now, m'lady."
The old woman smiled. "M'lady. You're a good boy to try and make me feel important. A good boy. Like my Nardil. When he and his wife died I took in their Silhin. She's all I have." The woman's eyes filled with tears from the memory and the pain. "She's alright?" Aragorn reassured her again that Silhin was fine. The woman closed her eyes. "Good. I think I will rest now, like you said." She smiled slightly. "A good boy." With the last murmured comment, she slipped away. Aragorn could only pause a moment to mourn a woman he never knew before replacing the red mark with a black one and turning to leave to treat others. Before he could leave, though, he heard a small cry. Turning back he saw a little girl shaking the old woman.
"Gramma wake up. Gramma!"
Gently pulling the girl away Aragorn knew this must be Silhin. "Young one, she can not wake up. She has gone to the Halls of Mandos."
Silhin shook her head, tears running down her cheeks. "But 'Palan said she'd be alright! He said the King would help her!"
Aragorn felt his heart break for the girl. "The King cannot heal everyone. I am sorry, but your Gramma is safe and isn't in pain anymore."
He held little Silhin as she cried, until a young woman from the village came and took her leaving him to tend to the others. //Curse those orcs that that little girl must lose her family.//
King Aragorn sighed tiredly. All the badly wounded had been treated. Most of the others could wait until more supplies arrived. Considering the medical supplies of the village had been burned by the orcs, they had managed to save many. After hours of screams and yells, the silence of the aftermath was deafening
Aragorn stood at the entrance of one of the tents. He only moved when Éomer walked up to him. "I should have seen it."
"Seen what?"
"The ambush. I should have seen it coming."
Éomer looked grimly at him. "I think we all underestimated the intelligence of these orcs, Aragorn. No one saw it coming."
Aragorn frowned. "I think. . . I think Faramir might have. I think he knew something was wrong, but wasn't quite sure what. I should have paid more attention to his farsight."
"Where is Faramir?"
"I don't know, I have been too busy with the wounded."
A woman's shrill scream interrupted their conversation. Not wasting a moment, the two kings ran towards the sound. They pushed through the small crowd, among the whispers of the people. "Who is it?" "She found him in an alley." "How did they miss him?" "Is he dead?"
Finally Aragorn and Éomer reached the center of the crowds attention. The young woman who had taken Silhin stood in shock over an inert figure. She held Silhin close to her in an attempt at keeping the girl from seeing the body that lay in the shadow of a dark alley. Aragorn hurried and knelt by the motionless figure, a soldier by the looks of his muddy clothes. //He must have been looked over in the chaos.// The King of Gondor pressed his fingers against the man's neck. "He's alive. Someone set up a tent, the others are full." Aragorn gently turned the man over. Seeing the man's face, Aragorn reeled back with a soft gasp. "Tir!"
"By the Valar." Éomer knelt beside his sister's betrothed. Faramir's lips were tinted slightly green and beads of sweat dotted his forehead.
Overcoming his shock, Aragorn quickly checked over his brother, noting the wound in his side. With strength he didn't know he had, the King of Gondor lifted the unconscious prince into his arms and walked briskly to where a few men were pitching a small tent. Gently laying Faramir on a cot, Aragorn examined the wound closer. A sick feeling rose in his stomach. "What is it? What is wrong?"
Aragorn turned and looked up at Eregdir. "Morgul poison."
*^*end flashback*^*
//Morgul poison. Black sorcery. Valar, why? Why did it have to be morgul?// Breathing deep, Aragorn entered the tent. He found Éowyn kneeling next to Faramir. "My lady?" //Yes, formality is safe.// "My lady?"
Éowyn turned her tear-streaked face to the King. Standing shakily, she pleaded with her eyes for answers. "Lord Aragorn?" Aragorn turned his face away from her, looking instead at his brother. "Lord Aragorn, will you heal him now that we have brought supplies?"
With a jolt, Aragorn realized that she didn't know how helpless he was. She believed he could help Faramir; that they were just waiting for the necessary medicines. "Éowyn, I cannot heal him."
The White Lady of Rohan stared at him. "What?"
"I know that Éomer told you the wound is poisoned, but perhaps he neglected to mention that the poison is of morgul kind. This is beyond my power. Only Elrond, who holds the Elven Ring of Air, or Galadriel, the bearer of the Ring of Water, can heal him."
Éowyn felt ill. "When do they arrive?"
Aragorn looked sadly at her. "Not in time."
A rush of anger flushed Éowyn's pale cheeks. "Then you will just sit here and watch Faramir die? How could you? How dare you! You call him your brother, but yet you, with all your healing powers and mighty airs, will do nothing to save him!" Éowyn was now irrational with grief, and did not check her words. "You do not deserve to be called his brother any more than Denethor deserved to be called his father!" Angrily she turned away from the King, again kneeling beside her beloved.
Aragorn paled at her words. It was as if she had slapped him across the face. To be compared to Denethor, a deranged man who tried to kill his own son. . . He looked again at Faramir who lay so close to death's door. For a moment Aragorn didn't see the dutiful Steward and Prince but the young boy who had nearly died saving him from a swollen river, who cried out in delirium for mercy from an abusive father. //Elbereth, why him? Why does he always have to suffer? He doesn't deserve this!// Without a word, Aragorn left Faramir's tent and walked dazedly to his own private one.
Arwen was there waiting for him. She took one look at his white face and softly embraced him. Her love and patience finally broke Aragorn. The tears he had kept back since finding Faramir streamed down his cheeks. Arwen led her husband to the cot and held him as he softly cried. "I am going to lose him, Arwen. I am going to lose my brother, just sit back and watch him die because I don't have enough power to heal him."
The Queen's heart ached to see Aragorn hurting so. "He needs elvish medicine then?"
"He needs Elrond or Galadriel. The poison in the wound is ringnar." The horror in Arwen's eyes was plain. "I can do nothing to help him, Arwen, and those who could are too far away." The tears were gone but the grief was not. "He was wounded saving me, I realize that now. I didn't see the orc behind me, but he saved me. And now he's dying. Éowyn is right, I do not deserve to be called his brother."
Arwen shivered and hugged Aragorn closer. She did not realize how close she had come to being in Éowyn's place. "Faramir would not have had it any other way. He knew what your death would mean for Gondor. And more than that, you *are* his brother. He would no more let you die than he would have let Boromir."
"I would take his place in a second if I could," he whispered.
"I know," Arwen answered, silently thanking the Valar that he couldn't.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
See, no cliffhanger! Well, not really. I mean, you still don't know what will happen to Faramir, but it's not really a cliffie. I don't know when I'll update again, so enjoy this chapter!