Chapter Eleven – Edoras

Eomer carefully laid his burden down upon the healer's table. Arlannis lay unmoving; she had not made a sound since he had brought her in. Her breathing was still shallow, but at least the bleeding had stopped.

The healer, a bent old man called Fromas, with white hair and a white robe, leaned over his new charge and carefully began to cut her clothes from her body. The Lorien cloak, he laid carefully to one side, but her jerkin and tunic were discarded as too ragged to be of any more use. A faint moan escaped Arlannis as the tunic was pulled from her abraded skin.

'Orcs, you say?' asked the healer of Eomer, who had averted his eyes once it became clear Fromas intended to strip Arlannis.

'What? Oh yes, Orcs,' he answered distractedly, 'we came upon them as they were about to butcher her.'

'They'd already started from what I can see,' said the healer, pursing his lips, 'she was bled and the top of her left ear is missing.' This last was said in a faintly accusatory tone and Eomer could not prevent a retort escaping his lips 'We did what we could, Fromas. Now tell me if you can do more.'

'I think I can,' said the healer without a trace of reproach in his voice, ' you did well to bring her to me as quickly as you did. She was very lucky.'

'Lucky?' said Eomer disbelievingly, 'She has taken dozens of wounds and could have bled to death!'

'Ah, yes, that is true, but when I say lucky I mean that the Orc blades were not poisoned, young master Eomer,' said the healer with infuriating calm, 'the Orcs are vile creatures to be sure but at least they have sense enough not to poison their meat.'

Eomer let out a sigh of relief. 'So you can heal her then?' he asked in a more deferential tone.

'Oh yes, master Eomer,' came the reply, 'her wounds need seeing to and she's lost a lot of blood. You should go now, I have much work to do here before I can let her rest easy.'

Eomer did not move. The Healer looked up from Arlannis' body with a quizzical expression. 'Was there something else?'

'No,' said Eomer, reluctantly, 'just be mindful of her, Healer, she has been a good friend to Rohan. And to me.'

Eomer walked away and left Fromas to his work. He was the best Healer in Edoras and Eomer would have trusted his own sister to his care.

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Arlannis stirred and then wished she had remained still. A wizened face popped into view above her.

'Ah, you are awake at last,' it said with a smile appearing and disappearing quickly, 'it is barely dawn. You must be accustomed to early starts, my dear.'

Pain crackled through her body but Arlannis could not help returning the friendly smile the old man gave her as he helped her to sit up in the narrow bed.

'Thank you,' she said as she was handed a small cup of clear liquid. Her body was covered in white dressings from neck to waist and her face felt stiff.

'Drink that, child,' said Fromas brightly, 'there will be a sweetmeat for you if you finish every last drop.'

'I do not need to be bribed, sir,' answered Arlannis, faintly offended at being treated like a little girl. She took a sip and her tongue shrivelled instantly with the bitterness of the draught. She looked up with painfully pursed lips to see Fromas dangling a small roll of sugared dried fruit and watching her expectantly. Arlannis grimaced and threw him a counterfeit grin as she downed the rest of the medicine.

'Sweetmeat?' he offered in innocent tones. Arlannis, after a brief struggle with pride, accepted the sweet morsel with gratitude.

'I take it I am in Edoras?' she asked when she had finished chewing.

'Yes, you guess rightly. Your friend, young Master Eomer, brought you to me. That was two days ago. I'm Fromas, by the way, I'm a healer here,' came the answer. 'You were in quite a state, you know, practically bloodless and then of course, there was your ear.'

Arlannis instinctively raised a hand to her face but Fromas moved with lightning speed and caught it. 'You mustn't touch the dressings,' he said warningly, 'they must stay on for at least another day to let the healing salve do its work.'

Arlannis looked into the man's worried eyes and acquiesced. 'When will I be fit to fight again?' she asked, 'I have friends who have need of me.'

'You should sleep,' said Fromas, 'your body has excellent powers of healing and by my reckoning you'll be off hunting Orcs again in no time.'

Arlannis felt her eyes closing of their own accord. 'What was in that drink?' she asked, aware her speech was slurring slightly, 'a sleep potion?'

'No,' said Fromas, matter-of-factly, 'that was in the sweetmeat. The drink was to encourage your flesh to knit clean.'

Arlannis slipped into dreamless oblivion and Fromas looked benevolently down upon his charge. It was always best to keep the warriors asleep for as long as possible. In his view it gave them time for healing they would not have given themselves.

When he was sure that Arlannis was deeply asleep, he risked a quick glance under the bandages that wrapped her injured face. He had not looked since he had cleaned and salved the wounds two days ago and he fervently hoped that all was going well. Fromas sighed with satisfaction; the long scrawling wound on her cheek was closing cleanly and the angry red swelling had gone completely.

But there was nothing he could do about her ear and it rankled with him. He had cleaned what was left of it and cut away any useless clinging scraps of skin to prevent festering, but that was the extent of his skill. Arlannis would be permanently mutilated and it frustrated Fromas to the core of his healer's soul to admit it.

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The sun was beginning to set and its dying rays bathed the healer's room in a subtle golden wash of light. Arlannis slept on much to Fromas' satisfaction. He frowned as a loud knocking on his door shattered the peace of the evening.

'Come in, master Eomer,' he called resignedly, but Eomer had already let himself in.

'How does she fare, Fromas?' he asked immediately.

'She heals fast and clean,' answered Fromas proudly, 'with a little help from my salves of course. All she needs now is rest to recover her full strength.'

Eomer grimaced at this and went to stand at Arlannis' bedside.

'You do not approve?' asked Fromas.

'It's not that. I fear she may have little time for rest, my friend,' Eomer said worriedly, 'things have changed greatly here at Edoras. And in such a short span of time! My uncle is not as I remember him.'

'You speak of Wormtongue's influence, I don't doubt,' stated Fromas, distaste evident on his wrinkled face, 'yes he is a rare one. If he had his way, Edoras would become a city of fear, such is his distrust of strangers. Many times have I spoken out against his counsel, but I am unheeded. I am just a healer after all, not a warrior like you.'

'It matters not what you are, Fromas,' said Eomer, 'for anyone who speaks against Wormtongue now is held to be a traitor. Even I, the King's own nephew, am not safe.'

Fromas blanched at this, matters had taken a grave turn indeed if Eomer could be painted with a traitor's brush. Edoras had never known a more loyal heart than Eomer's. 'Are you in danger?' he asked.

Eomer turned a hunted face to him, 'Even now, Wormtongue moves to have me imprisoned. I have until tonight at best and if I am captured, what fate befalls Arlannis?'

'Why should they care about her?' asked Fromas quizzically.

'Because I do,' answered Eomer wearily, 'and all of Edoras saw me ride in with her. It will be enough to seal Arlannis' doom. Wormtongue knows that she is under my protection and what suspicion falls on me falls doubly on her for she is a stranger here.'

Fromas digested this in silence for a moment and realised that Eomer was right.

Eomer paced the small room in despair. 'How could we have come to this?' he asked, 'Wormtongue is in league with Saruman, am I the only one to perceive the danger? He will cripple Theoden and then nothing will stop him from ruling Edoras and taking my sister to wife no matter her loathing of him.'

'I can hide your friend,' said Fromas suddenly, 'At least I think I can. For a time anyway.'

Eomer looked at him intently, 'Be sure, Fromas,' he warned, 'Once Arlannis has regained her strength she will be more than able to defend herself, but until then she will be depending on you.'

Fromas swallowed but nodded, 'I understand, master Eomer, she will be safe for as long as she needs to recover.'

'Give her this,' said Eomer, drawing the blade of Gilraen, 'tell her that her brother sends it. Tell her that Aragorn is alive and will come for her.'

Fromas took the shining blade from Eomer and laid it on a bench next to Arlannis' Lorien cloak.

Eomer bent over Arlannis' sleeping form and placed a kiss on her un-bandaged cheek. 'Don't forget who saved you from those Orcs,' he whispered,  'for in a short time I may be the one in need of rescuing if Wormtongue has his way.'

Fromas watched as Eomer left the room as quickly as he had arrived. The healer took a deep breath and sat down to think.

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