Chapter 3
Aragorn wondered into the healing halls of his city. Pushing open the vast stone doors he deeply inhaled the air around him. It smelled of death and pain. He looked around him. Women and children were crowded around beds of the sick. Months ago he had sent out a scouting party of about 43 men; his best soldiers. He had heard the rumors of the killings and he had sent these men to find out the truth beyond these stories. The men had returned only a few weeks ago. 20 men returned home, and only 20. How they had even managed the journey, Aragorn did not know. They staggered through the city doors, unharmed; yet their faces were pale. They had seen death; looked it in the eye. The healers had rushed to them and Aragorn had watched with a horror in his eyes as each man then collapsed onto the cold hard stone. They had been taken up into the healing halls of Minas Tirith and each laid down upon a separate bed. Aragorn had been informed that the men had no injuries. The healers had examined the soldiers, but there were no physical wounds. The following day the men had opened their eyes. They did not blink, but they simply stared at the ceiling. Unmoving, they spent their days, simply staring up. The healers had to force food down their throats, for they could not eat. Days later, 4 of the men died. The healers could not explain the cause of their death, they just died. Now, once every few days another soldier or soldiers would fall into the inescapable darkness. Aragorn would now come up to these halls, but only every few days or so. He had sent his men to an unnecessary death and the guilt pounded down upon him. However, if something were not done sooner or later, they would all die here anyway. How many days were left until it was indeed over and the demons would reach their city? He pushed this thought from his mind and tried to concentrate on something else.
Looking around the beds of men, Aragorn saw a calming sight. Not a pale man staring into darkness, but a woman; a beautiful young woman. She was asleep, her body curled into a fetal position. The ringlets of her long raven hair hung limply off the bed next to her. There was something mysterious about this woman. Something intriguing. Her soft red lips were parted slightly. The woman released a fair calm breath. Perhaps that fact that she intrigued him so was because she looked so uncanningly like his wife and son. Lord, Aragorn missed his child. He remembered tucking Eldarion into his bed. He had his mother's pale blue-gray eyes and dark rich hair. He would smile and let out a yawn. Aragorn would tuck his son into bed and wrap the blankets around him. He would sit by Eldarion's bed and tell him stories from the war for middle earth. He would tell his son of hobbits and elves and dwarves. "What's a hobbit?" Eldarion would yawn. "A brave little man with big feet" his father would chuckle. His son would often fall asleep during the stories upon his father's arm, and Aragorn would have to gradually pull his arm out, making sure not to wake his son. He missed his son fiercely. He would have taught his son to become the king; his son would have a peaceful simple life. King Eldarion; Eldarion would always say that he liked the sound of it, and that he was ready to be king tomorrow. And Aragorn would kiss his son on the head, and tell him not too soon; the time will come soon enough. Such little things Aragorn had taken for granted. He felt his eyes water again, but he held back his tears. He once again turned his attention to the sleeping woman before him. Legolas had carried this woman into the city 3 days ago. Legolas had told him that she had been laying in the long stretch of land that surrounded the white city. He had shown him where he found this woman, and Aragorn had wondered how he had seen her. According to Legolas, she had glowed. A light had illuminated from her, but it disappeared as Legolas had picked her up. Aragorn believed his friend, of coarse, but the people of Minas Tirith had not seen the light. In fact, they still found it strange how he had ridden out in such a hurry into an empty field, and returned with a beautiful sleeping woman in his arms. The story still confused Aragorn. Legolas also had seemed infatuated with the girl ever since he had brought her back to the city. He would gaze at her, his eyes stretching up and down her body, and he would sit in silenced. When she did not awake, he began to sleep in a chair by her bedside. He said that he almost felt responsible for her. Aragorn had passed Legolas only moments earlier. He and the healers had finally convinced the immortal to go down to the dining halls and at least get some get some fruit. And so he left. Aragorn turned to one of the healers and began to question him about the young woman.
"Healer, is there any change in the girl? Has she moved, or eaten anything?" "No my lord." the healer replied,"and there is little change. We had thought that she was perhaps attacked by one of these demons, however, her symptoms would suggest otherwise. It leaves us in wonder for unlike the others she has moved, and her eyes remained shut. We feel as though she will soon open her eyes, but she then falls deeper into her slumber. It is as though she be in an enchanted sleep, this girl. The elf sir, he touched her forehead and it made her move. She moaned almost, but she will not awake from this sleep." "Very well." Aragorn sighed, "You may continue about your work." "Thank you my lord." The healer paused "and god-speed to you" Aragorn turned in the other direction and walk out of the halls. Perhaps a horse ride would calm his nerves, but that thought quickly disappeared from his mind as he saw another creature walking toward him; towards the halls. A tall slender creature, with golden locks upon his head. Aragorn sighed, for here he was again. Aragorn nodded his head to Legolas as he passed, an apple clutched in his hand. Later that day The families from before had left the halls and the immortal sat upon the old wooden stool. It creaked beneath him. He sprang to his feet and began to pace the floor in front of him once more. He watched the stone change underneath hit feet as he tread upon it. He once again returned to the young woman's bedside. This girl; he was pulled to her some how. He could not leave her side, no matter how he tried. Aragorn had come by him many times these past days to try and get him to abandon his "post", but his efforts were to no avail. As soon as Legolas would leave the side of the girl, he would have to come back, not even by his own free will. He gazed at her lovely figure once more. She was beautiful, he would give her that, but for some reason he seemed infatuated with her. This mysterious woman. He wondered what pulled him to her so. He did not think it was attraction; for she was unlike any elven woman he had ever felt attracted towards. Perhaps it was simply the fact that he felt lost right now. His people had left the shores of these lands, and then he had left his people. His companion had died, and he felt some how distant from Aragorn now. Aragorn had aged tremendously, not only in body, but also in mind and soul. He seemed weak. Legolas longed for someone to talk to. Someone who would somehow understand him, maybe even love him? However, Legolas had never loved before. He had felt trust, and love toward a companion, such as Gimli, or family, but he had never felt compassionate love towards another creature before. This, he realized, was not the best time to start. He pulled his eyes away from the body before him and looked at the magnificent stone window. Little light was coming through it now. Night was swiftly approaching. Where had the day gone? He heard heavy boots thump up the stairs and enter into the corridor. He met eye contact with the man who wore these boots. Who else was it but the king himself, Aragorn. Aragorn strode over to him and spoke softly. The grayed unshaven prickles upon his upper lip, moved as he spoke. "My friend, it is late. You need not stay here, waiting for the child to awaken. Come to bed. I will bring you something to eat. I know it has been days since you have last touched food. I can see the un-eaten apple sitting under you stool, do not try to fool me." "Alas Aragorn" The prince replied, "I can not leave her side. I know not what force makes me stay by her, but stay by her I must. Do not worry about my health, friend. I am immortal. I need little sleep, and I can go days with out food or drink. If I tire or feel hunger, I will indeed let you know. Go to bed my friend. The king needs his rest. You need not worry about me. Aragorn eyes him reproachingly and let out a soft laugh.
"As you wish Legolas, however I do wish I could make you feel more at home" He smiled. "Legolas, I feel as though I will have eventually have to ban you from these corridors!" he laughed Legolas laughed lightly with him and placed a hand on the king's sholder.
"My dear Aragorn, even in Valinor I did not feel at home." He paused. "Do not worry yourself over my troubles" Aragorn smiled again. "Good-night Legolas"
Aragorn turned and walked in the other direction, the moonlight enveloped his tall figure. The dark blanket of night was here at last. Night did indeed come swiftly here. Legolas sat back down onto the stool and leisurely picked up the partially hidden apple. He allowed his lips to part as he sunk his teeth into the skin of it; the sticky juice dripped down his teeth and onto his tongue. He glanced down again at the girl, and noticed a rumple in the front of her dress. It was a quick glance, and he did not know why in his hours of gazing at her he did not notice this crease before. He placed his apple down upon the wooden table beside him and closer investigated this wrinkle. It was a necklace that did this. A fine silver chain hung around her neck and dipped in the crest between her breasts. What hung upon the chain? He did not want to violate this woman before him in any way, however, he was overwhelmed with curiosity. While trying not to touch her in any way he gingerly - very gingerly - placed his fingers upon the hook of the chain and pulled upon it. In doing so her dress was flapped down, exposing her breasts, and her eyes flied open.
Aragorn wondered into the healing halls of his city. Pushing open the vast stone doors he deeply inhaled the air around him. It smelled of death and pain. He looked around him. Women and children were crowded around beds of the sick. Months ago he had sent out a scouting party of about 43 men; his best soldiers. He had heard the rumors of the killings and he had sent these men to find out the truth beyond these stories. The men had returned only a few weeks ago. 20 men returned home, and only 20. How they had even managed the journey, Aragorn did not know. They staggered through the city doors, unharmed; yet their faces were pale. They had seen death; looked it in the eye. The healers had rushed to them and Aragorn had watched with a horror in his eyes as each man then collapsed onto the cold hard stone. They had been taken up into the healing halls of Minas Tirith and each laid down upon a separate bed. Aragorn had been informed that the men had no injuries. The healers had examined the soldiers, but there were no physical wounds. The following day the men had opened their eyes. They did not blink, but they simply stared at the ceiling. Unmoving, they spent their days, simply staring up. The healers had to force food down their throats, for they could not eat. Days later, 4 of the men died. The healers could not explain the cause of their death, they just died. Now, once every few days another soldier or soldiers would fall into the inescapable darkness. Aragorn would now come up to these halls, but only every few days or so. He had sent his men to an unnecessary death and the guilt pounded down upon him. However, if something were not done sooner or later, they would all die here anyway. How many days were left until it was indeed over and the demons would reach their city? He pushed this thought from his mind and tried to concentrate on something else.
Looking around the beds of men, Aragorn saw a calming sight. Not a pale man staring into darkness, but a woman; a beautiful young woman. She was asleep, her body curled into a fetal position. The ringlets of her long raven hair hung limply off the bed next to her. There was something mysterious about this woman. Something intriguing. Her soft red lips were parted slightly. The woman released a fair calm breath. Perhaps that fact that she intrigued him so was because she looked so uncanningly like his wife and son. Lord, Aragorn missed his child. He remembered tucking Eldarion into his bed. He had his mother's pale blue-gray eyes and dark rich hair. He would smile and let out a yawn. Aragorn would tuck his son into bed and wrap the blankets around him. He would sit by Eldarion's bed and tell him stories from the war for middle earth. He would tell his son of hobbits and elves and dwarves. "What's a hobbit?" Eldarion would yawn. "A brave little man with big feet" his father would chuckle. His son would often fall asleep during the stories upon his father's arm, and Aragorn would have to gradually pull his arm out, making sure not to wake his son. He missed his son fiercely. He would have taught his son to become the king; his son would have a peaceful simple life. King Eldarion; Eldarion would always say that he liked the sound of it, and that he was ready to be king tomorrow. And Aragorn would kiss his son on the head, and tell him not too soon; the time will come soon enough. Such little things Aragorn had taken for granted. He felt his eyes water again, but he held back his tears. He once again turned his attention to the sleeping woman before him. Legolas had carried this woman into the city 3 days ago. Legolas had told him that she had been laying in the long stretch of land that surrounded the white city. He had shown him where he found this woman, and Aragorn had wondered how he had seen her. According to Legolas, she had glowed. A light had illuminated from her, but it disappeared as Legolas had picked her up. Aragorn believed his friend, of coarse, but the people of Minas Tirith had not seen the light. In fact, they still found it strange how he had ridden out in such a hurry into an empty field, and returned with a beautiful sleeping woman in his arms. The story still confused Aragorn. Legolas also had seemed infatuated with the girl ever since he had brought her back to the city. He would gaze at her, his eyes stretching up and down her body, and he would sit in silenced. When she did not awake, he began to sleep in a chair by her bedside. He said that he almost felt responsible for her. Aragorn had passed Legolas only moments earlier. He and the healers had finally convinced the immortal to go down to the dining halls and at least get some get some fruit. And so he left. Aragorn turned to one of the healers and began to question him about the young woman.
"Healer, is there any change in the girl? Has she moved, or eaten anything?" "No my lord." the healer replied,"and there is little change. We had thought that she was perhaps attacked by one of these demons, however, her symptoms would suggest otherwise. It leaves us in wonder for unlike the others she has moved, and her eyes remained shut. We feel as though she will soon open her eyes, but she then falls deeper into her slumber. It is as though she be in an enchanted sleep, this girl. The elf sir, he touched her forehead and it made her move. She moaned almost, but she will not awake from this sleep." "Very well." Aragorn sighed, "You may continue about your work." "Thank you my lord." The healer paused "and god-speed to you" Aragorn turned in the other direction and walk out of the halls. Perhaps a horse ride would calm his nerves, but that thought quickly disappeared from his mind as he saw another creature walking toward him; towards the halls. A tall slender creature, with golden locks upon his head. Aragorn sighed, for here he was again. Aragorn nodded his head to Legolas as he passed, an apple clutched in his hand. Later that day The families from before had left the halls and the immortal sat upon the old wooden stool. It creaked beneath him. He sprang to his feet and began to pace the floor in front of him once more. He watched the stone change underneath hit feet as he tread upon it. He once again returned to the young woman's bedside. This girl; he was pulled to her some how. He could not leave her side, no matter how he tried. Aragorn had come by him many times these past days to try and get him to abandon his "post", but his efforts were to no avail. As soon as Legolas would leave the side of the girl, he would have to come back, not even by his own free will. He gazed at her lovely figure once more. She was beautiful, he would give her that, but for some reason he seemed infatuated with her. This mysterious woman. He wondered what pulled him to her so. He did not think it was attraction; for she was unlike any elven woman he had ever felt attracted towards. Perhaps it was simply the fact that he felt lost right now. His people had left the shores of these lands, and then he had left his people. His companion had died, and he felt some how distant from Aragorn now. Aragorn had aged tremendously, not only in body, but also in mind and soul. He seemed weak. Legolas longed for someone to talk to. Someone who would somehow understand him, maybe even love him? However, Legolas had never loved before. He had felt trust, and love toward a companion, such as Gimli, or family, but he had never felt compassionate love towards another creature before. This, he realized, was not the best time to start. He pulled his eyes away from the body before him and looked at the magnificent stone window. Little light was coming through it now. Night was swiftly approaching. Where had the day gone? He heard heavy boots thump up the stairs and enter into the corridor. He met eye contact with the man who wore these boots. Who else was it but the king himself, Aragorn. Aragorn strode over to him and spoke softly. The grayed unshaven prickles upon his upper lip, moved as he spoke. "My friend, it is late. You need not stay here, waiting for the child to awaken. Come to bed. I will bring you something to eat. I know it has been days since you have last touched food. I can see the un-eaten apple sitting under you stool, do not try to fool me." "Alas Aragorn" The prince replied, "I can not leave her side. I know not what force makes me stay by her, but stay by her I must. Do not worry about my health, friend. I am immortal. I need little sleep, and I can go days with out food or drink. If I tire or feel hunger, I will indeed let you know. Go to bed my friend. The king needs his rest. You need not worry about me. Aragorn eyes him reproachingly and let out a soft laugh.
"As you wish Legolas, however I do wish I could make you feel more at home" He smiled. "Legolas, I feel as though I will have eventually have to ban you from these corridors!" he laughed Legolas laughed lightly with him and placed a hand on the king's sholder.
"My dear Aragorn, even in Valinor I did not feel at home." He paused. "Do not worry yourself over my troubles" Aragorn smiled again. "Good-night Legolas"
Aragorn turned and walked in the other direction, the moonlight enveloped his tall figure. The dark blanket of night was here at last. Night did indeed come swiftly here. Legolas sat back down onto the stool and leisurely picked up the partially hidden apple. He allowed his lips to part as he sunk his teeth into the skin of it; the sticky juice dripped down his teeth and onto his tongue. He glanced down again at the girl, and noticed a rumple in the front of her dress. It was a quick glance, and he did not know why in his hours of gazing at her he did not notice this crease before. He placed his apple down upon the wooden table beside him and closer investigated this wrinkle. It was a necklace that did this. A fine silver chain hung around her neck and dipped in the crest between her breasts. What hung upon the chain? He did not want to violate this woman before him in any way, however, he was overwhelmed with curiosity. While trying not to touch her in any way he gingerly - very gingerly - placed his fingers upon the hook of the chain and pulled upon it. In doing so her dress was flapped down, exposing her breasts, and her eyes flied open.