Disclaimer: I do not own anyone or anything. I just want to live in Middle Earth.
Note: This takes place about 14 years after the War of the Ring ends. And this time I wrote Book Faramir, with black hair and grey eyes, just to be different (I like both movie and book). So those of you who usually complain when I write blond – hope you are happy. And those of you who love blond Faramir, deal with it.
On the Veranda
Eowyn could feel herself drifting. She sat in the chair before a roaring fire, feeling quite warm and comfortable for the first time all day, in several days actually. Now, with the blanket pulled around her, and the warmth before her, she was unable to resist as her eyes closed and her knitting slipped from her fingers to lay abandoned before her.
Rousing herself, she looked up to see Faramir watching her over the top of his book. She couldn't see his mouth, but his eyes were crinkled in such a way that she knew he was laughing at her attempts to stay alert. With great effort, she shook herself awake and stood up, a somewhat difficult maneuver considering she was over eight months pregnant.
"I'm going to bed," she said forcefully, as if she expected argument from her husband. Laying her knitting on the blanket she dropped into the chair, she turned toward the sweeping staircase behind her. "You can stay up reading all night if you like." Her tone made clear exactly her feelings should he decide to do so.
Instantly Faramir was on his feet, yawning and stretching like a cat. "No, I am tired, too, I will come with you." He reached over and hugged her, kissing her lightly behind her ear and gently stroking her swollen stomach. "You have had a long day." Eowyn nodded in agreement.
That morning they had had unexpected visitors as the Kings of Gondor and Rohan had thundered up to the house with a surprisingly small retinue accompanying them. Eowyn had known her brother and his family were going to be visiting Minas Tirith for several weeks, but had not expected to see him at her own home so soon. They were, of course, greeted warmly and invited to spend the day.
"We can only stay for an hour or so," Eomer had informed her, after bestowing a bruising kiss on her cheek and patting her round belly approvingly. "We are on our way to inspect a quarry that Aragorn informs me has the potential to provide enough stone to double the size of his city."
"And yours, should you like," offered Aragorn generously.
"We do not build with white stone in Rohan," Eomer's voice was haughty. "Wood is the way of the Mark." Aragorn bowed in mock apology.
"Forgive me, my king." He rolled his eyes at Eowyn and she laughed, then shrieked with alarm as a cold nose was pushed against her. The huge black wolfhound that accompanied Eomer everywhere was behind her begging for attention, leaning his shaggy head against her and looking up with beseeching brown eyes.
"Get away from me you awful thing!" Eowyn made a face and pushed the dog from her. "Honestly, Eomer, why on earth do you keep this dog around all the time?"
Eomer snapped his fingers and the dog went to him immediately, jumping up to lick his master's face before lying down contently at his feet. "Who, Grima? Because, Eowyn, he is faithful and loyal." He pretended to be confused. "I thought you liked dogs?"
His sister's brows furrowed, making her an uncanny copy of Eomer when angry. "I do like dogs, just not this one. He's too big, and too – I don't know – eager."
Faramir frowned and glared at his brother-in-law. "You're still calling the thing Grima? Why?"
The King of Rohan laughed loudly, tossing back his golden mane of hair. "Because, it pleases me to have him come when I call his name, and to do as I say." His eyes gleamed mischievously. "And it makes me laugh when he lays there and licks himself."
Eowyn groaned and swatted at her brother. "Such noble thoughts for a King!" Her brother laughed at her discomfort and she noted that while Faramir and Aragorn both seemed slightly embarrassed by Eomer's comment, they said nothing. She glared at them and resolved to keep silent for the rest of the conversation.
"Will you stay at the caves?" Faramir asked as they settled themselves on the large veranda that wrapped around the house. It was one of the rare February days lately when it was not raining, the sun could occasionally be seen peeking through the grey clouds and it was warm enough to sit outside. "Or will you try to make it there and back in one day?"
"UNCLE!" A chorus of voices interrupted Faramir and let Eowyn know that the tutor had heard the arrival of their visitors and released the boys from their lessons. All five of her sons raced across the veranda and leaped on Eomer as he greeted them enthusiastically. Elboron was the first to disengage himself, feeling the maturity of his twelve years, but the others were less self-conscious and relentlessly wrestled with their burly uncle until they had forced him to the floor.
"Boys!" Eowyn lightly scolded them as they all lay on the stones in a tangle, laughing and tickling. "Really, this is not proper behavior."
"And you have failed to greet the King." Faramir's voice was mild, but each of his sons could hear the faint rebuke. Immediately they rose, lined up and gravely presented themselves to Aragorn. "Good day, Sire." They spoke and bowed in near unison.
Aragorn returned their greeting with a slight incline of his head. "Good day to you, my lords." He treated them, as always, with complete seriousness and respect. "I trust you all are well." He was answered by an assortment of affirmatives and smiled at his Steward's crop of sons. Some blond, some dark-haired, some blue eyes, some grey, but all well-mannered, attractive boys. Even the youngest, the three-year-old, stood straight and proud before his king. He held up a finger. "I have a cut," he announced, stepping forward so that Aragorn could inspect the slight scratch on his forefinger.
Aragorn carefully examined the finger. "What happened, Sam?" Faramir had saddled his youngest with the weighty name of Ecthelion, but the small, sturdy blond had reminded everyone so much of a certain hobbit that the boy had been Sam from the beginning.
"I was digging in the garden with mother, and there was a rock." Sam climbed happily into the king's lap, ready to tell the entire tale of his injury, but was interrupted by his older brother, five-year-old Barahir.
"He threw it at me." Barahir leaned on Aragorn's knee and pointed at Sam. "So I threw it back, and then –"
"Boys." Eowyn had only to say the word once and there was silence. She had been planning to send them back to their lessons, but their pleading faces and the smile playing about Aragorn's mouth stopped her. "You may stay, but you must listen quietly." They each nodded soberly in acceptance and were soon scattered about the porch, Sam keeping his place with the king and Elboron leaning against the post behind his uncle, while eight-year-old Eomund shared the edge of his mother's chair. Theoden, the ten-year-old, sat down on the floor to lean against his father's legs and Barahir unhesitatingly went to curl up in Faramir's lap, his usual favorite spot. Faramir hugged him close as he repeated his question.
"Will you try to stay at the caves?"
"I would rather stay," said Aragorn. "But I fear they may be flooded. We have not managed to go two days without rain for over a month, and I do not know what the weather will bring tomorrow." He frowned slightly. "The Anduin was over its banks most of the way here. If we get more rain it will flood a large part of the Pelennor and we might have a problem getting back to the city."
"We have had flooding here, also," said Faramir as a servant arrived with a tray and poured wine for the adults, cider for the children. "The creeks and streams are higher than I've ever seen. And the ground is nothing but mud." He gestured towards the south. "There have been several landslides down along the great meadow."
"I fear it will be worse before it gets better," said Aragorn. "March is usually our rainy month and it's only the middle of February and we are already saturated." He looked thoughtfully at Faramir. "When I come back through here, ride to the city with me and we'll pull out that plan we made a few years ago for moving some of the farmers into the city for a few weeks."
Faramir nodded. "The one we made AFTER the river came up that winter during the ice jam? I still have it." He steepled his fingers before him and thought for a moment. "If I remember correctly, that was the first time the bridge in Osgiliath had been flooded in something like twenty-five years." He looked at Aragorn with concern. "How high was the water there?"
The King took a drink of wine and traded a glance with Eomer. "Not that bad, I think." As he spoke a large dark cloud scudded across the sky, dimming the sun and causing each of the adults to raise wary eyes to the heavens. It passed over, however, and the King of the Mark nodded in agreement with Aragorn's assessment.
"It was high, but still several feet below the bridge. A day or two of good weather should drop the water back to normal."
"Two days of good weather in a row?" Eowyn snapped, forgetting her vow of silence and taking a huge swallow of her wine as her face showed her skepticism. "That seems unlikely. It's been raining for weeks. I'm sick to death of it. You can never go outside without getting drenched, the house is damp and cold, the boys all have runny noses, there is mud everywhere, and-" she realized the men were exchanging grins at her tirade. "What is so funny?"
"Nothing, nothing," Faramir said reassuringly, even as Eomer snickered into his wineglass.
"Then why is my brother laughing?"
Eomer managed to get himself under control and drained his cup before he stood to kiss his sister. "Ah, Eowyn, you are never more lovely than when you are eight months gone with child and in a fine temper."
She made an unladylike noise even as she couldn't help smiling and let his teasing pass because she knew he understood how happy each baby made her and Faramir. Now they were preparing for another little one, a babe to be born in just a few weeks. Her smile faded into a frown. "A girl, this time," she said forcefully. "Enough of the vaunted Hurin ability to breed boys, five is enough." She saw Faramir's face blush as her usual forthrightness in discussing any type of reproduction manifested itself.
"If not for boys the House of Hurin would have passed long ago," he reminded her shyly.
Eowyn pointedly glanced around the porch at her sons. "I think we have that taken care of," she said. "It would be nice to have a little princess, just to break up the monotony." She hated to admit it, but lately she had found herself yearning for a little girl; someone to dress up and put ribbons in her hair. Ridiculous, she knew, for Eowyn Wraithbane, a Shieldmaiden of Rohan, to have such desires, but she could not ignore them. And when she thought of how Faramir would dote on a little girl, her heart melted. "A little girl with her father's eyes and her uncle's hair," she said somewhat dreamily. She had always been slightly jealous of the fact that Eomer's blond locks were more attractive than her own.
"I don't like girls," said Sam to Aragorn, who wisely said nothing. The other boys remained quiet, although Elboron noticed a soft glow in the king's eyes.
"Just so long as she doesn't have her mother's temper," Eomer snorted, quickly moving away in case Eowyn decided to hit him again. "One Rohirric princess per house is quite sufficient."
As she opened her mouth to protest he lifted his eyebrows at Aragorn. "Shouldn't we be going, my lord?"
"Ah, yes, I think so." Aragorn finished his drink and also stood, depositing Sam on the floor and taking Eowyn's hand and raising it to lips. "My lady."
"Hmmph!" Eowyn restrained herself from jerking her hand from the king's grasp, knowing down inside that she really was just in a bad temper. She glared at her brother. "All right, then, just ride off. But be careful, the roads are muddy, and don't get caught in a storm, come back here if it gets too bad…"
"Eowyn, we are not children!" Eomer gave her a look of exasperation. "We have supplies, we'll decide once we get there."
Aragorn stretched a moment, enjoying the view. Faramir's home in Ithilien was truly lovely, even in the last damp throes of winter. The large stone house was surrounded by trees and flowerbeds, the formal gardens nicely contrasting with the woods and fields bordering them. He looked over the large herb garden that Eowyn tended and then at the boys gathered around their parents and smiled. "It is lovely here, today, though."
"It's not raining," laughed Eowyn. "And sometimes today you can even see the sun!" Her good humor was suddenly restored. She loved Ithilien, and could see Aragorn did, too. "That in itself makes it a special day!" The men all agreed heartily.
In a few moments, they had made their farewells to everyone and were re-mounted and ready to go. Refusing their invitation to come along, Faramir had merely bid them goodbye as they rode down the path, the wolfhound Grima close on the heels of Eomer's horse.
"You should have gone with them," Eowyn said later that night, returning Faramir's kiss as she started up the stairs. "Why didn't you?"
He shrugged. "Mostly because I did not want to." They held hands as they went down the hallway, peeking in to check on the children. Elboron had his own room, but the others shared, Theoden and Eomund together in one room, Barahir and Sam in another. Everyone was sleeping peacefully. Faramir continued the conversation as they walked down the hallway to their own chambers. "They need time to be alone, without me along."
"Faramir," Eowyn shook her head. "The King and my brother would be glad to have you along."
"I know," he answered. "But when I am there, they cannot be just Aragorn and Eomer, enjoying themselves. They become King Elessar and Eomer-King, my brother-in-law." He said it in such a way that she laughed. "Let them ride around the countryside, hunting, talking, comparing the troubles of governing, and sharing notes on my faults."
"What?!" Eowyn was outraged. "They would never-" She saw he was joking and stopped, feeling foolish. "Why do I listen to you?" She leaned over the kiss him again and he smiled.
"Perhaps you could make some additions to that list?"
"Never."
"I did not go with them because I wanted to be here with you," Faramir said softly as he gently patted her stomach and Eowyn gave him a pleased look.
As they entered their bedroom, Eowyn was happy to see the chamberlain had up built the fire as she had asked. It had been the coldest, wettest February she could ever remember, and with the rain going on for days and days it seemed as if the house was never quite warm enough for her, lately. Tonight, however, the fire leaping in the grate had the room toasty and she paused and held her hands before the warmth. Preparing for bed she turned her head to listen. "Is it raining again?"
"Yes," Faramir looked out the window. "Coming down in buckets." He raised his eyebrows. "They will have a wet camp tonight."
At first Eowyn did not know what had awakened her. She lay in bed, snuggled under the warm blankets and pressed up against Faramir's naked back, her ears pricked as she tried to hear anything out of the ordinary. The soft, steady breathing beside her told her whatever had woken her had not been heard by her husband, but that was not unusual. Years of children, with their bad dreams and sudden illnesses, had honed her mother's ear for any suspicious noise at night and she often awoke when he did not. For a long moment she listened but heard nothing except the by now familiar sound of pouring rain, and she finally decided it had been only some odd nighttime noise. The child within her turned and she smiled, pressing her hand over her stomach. Closing her eyes, she relaxed against Faramir again, letting drowsiness steal back over her.
"…in the name of the King!" Through the rain outside she heard the faint shout again and this time she sat up in bed, reaching over to shake Faramir only to find he was also awake. He was up and pulling on a pair of breeches even as the shout was repeated, louder this time, closer to the house. "Open the door, in the name of the King!" Eowyn felt along the bottom of the bed for her robe and quickly wrapped it around her. A sudden pounding on the door caused her to jump, even as Eomer's voice thundered up through the storm.
"Faramir!! Eowyn! Open up!!" The urgency in his voice started Eowyn's heart hammering in her chest as she took the large candle sconce from the night stand and followed Faramir down the hallway and stairs to the front door. The pounding started again just as Faramir reached the last step, Eomer's blows threatening to break down the door as he shouted once more. "Faramir!!"
Faramir had finished pulling on a shirt as he raced down the steps and he reached the door just as the house matron did. Motioning her back, he flung it open, letting in a great gust of wind and rain.
Eomer came through the door like some spector from a ghost story in Eowyn's childhood memory. He was thoroughly soaked, his fair hair plastered to his skull and streaming down his back, his eyes wild in a pale face. His clothing was drenched and mud-spattered, molded close to his body, and in his arms was the King.
"Aragorn!" Faramir cried out his name involuntarily and Eowyn felt a sick rush of fear flood through her as Eomer placed the limp body on the rug before the door and the rest of the guards crowded in behind him. Eowyn's first thought was blood. Blood everywhere, covering the king, covering Eomer, dripping onto the rug and the floor. Everywhere she looked there seemed to be the bright crimson fluid.
"What happened?" Faramir was already kneeling on the floor beside the king and pulling at his clothes, trying to find the source of the hemorrhage.
"Don't." Eomer's hands blocked those of his brother-in-law. "I've got it slowed, if you unwrap it, it will start up again."
Eowyn suddenly came to herself and turned, calling for the house matron. "Nan, Nan!" She had barely spoken before the woman appeared beside her; she had forgotten she was near. "I'll need bandages and warm water, and the sewing needles, and –" Eowyn looked down at the king's white face and steeled herself. "Never mind, come with me and help me gather everything." She took a step and put her hand on Faramir's shoulder, seeing her own panic reflected in his eyes when he looked up at her. "Put him in our chambers, it's the warmest," she said. "I'll be there in a moment." He nodded and lifted Aragorn's legs as Eomer took his shoulders. Together they carried him up the stairs.
The rest of the king's retinue still stood dripping in the entrance hall and Eowyn quickly turned to them. "Is anyone else hurt?" Two of the men hesitantly stepped forward, one clutching a bloody arm and the other with a gaping slash to his neck. Nan pointed to both of them and ordered them to follow one of the maids to the kitchen, assuring Eowyn the girl could tend to their wounds. Those unhurt were escorted by another servant to the White Company's barracks to get washed and warmed up.
In the small room off of the kitchen where Eowyn kept all her healing supplies she frantically grabbed anything she thought she might need; bandages, sewing supplies, assorted herbs and ointments, and threw them into a large basket that Nan held ready. When she had everything she could think of she moved as fast as she could to the stairs, noticing as she climbed that each step had at least one large, scarlet droplet splashed on it. Before she could say anything one of the young housemaids appeared with a bucket of soapy water and a towel and began to wipe up each bloodstain. Eowyn felt a cold shiver as another rolled up the rug that now had a large wet spot on it and carried it out of the hall. So much blood, in just the few moments he had lain there. She closed her eyes and gripped the railing.
"My lady?" Nan grasped her arm with concern.
"I'm all right." Eowyn immediately straightened and continued up the stairs. "Let's go tend to the king."
As she reached the top of the stairs she saw a small figure coming down the hall. Despite her worry she put on a smile as Theoden approached her. "Mother, I heard voices, is Uncle Eomer here?"
Eowyn leaned down to kiss her second-born. Except for his Rohirric name he was an exact copy of his father, large, serious grey eyes, dark hair, always in the library reading some book of Elvish legends. "Yes, but we are very busy, sweetheart. If you will go back to bed, you can see him in the morning." Theoden yawned and nodded sleepily, turning to go back to his room. "And if anyone else wakes up, Theo, tell them the same thing," she said to his back and he gave a little wave to let her know he had heard, a gesture she had seen Faramir give a thousand times. She heard his door close as she hurried down the hallway to her own chambers.
"What happened?" Faramir's voice was quiet as he and Eomer gently laid Aragorn on his and Eowyn's bed, stretching his long legs across the mattress. Now that he had had a few minutes to assess the situation, Faramir had slipped into the role of calm management that always served him so well. He pulled Aragorn's muddy boots from his feet as Eomer placed the pillows beneath his head. Beside them a servant lit every lantern or candle available in the house and placed them on the tables nearest the bed and put several more logs on the leaping fire in the fireplace. Outside the hard thrumming of the rain continued.
"Wargs." Eomer's answer was short and succinct, his frown deeper than anytime Faramir could remember.
Faramir gaped at his brother-in-law for a moment as the word processed through his brain. "Wargs??" He repeated it as if it were from an unknown language. "There aren't any wargs in Ithilien."
"It would appear you are mistaken," said Eomer in a hushed, savage tone. He met Faramir's gaze, his blond brows furrowed with worry. "I know what I saw."
Eowyn came into the room with Nan carrying the supplies and both men moved away from the bed to allow her room. She seated herself beside Aragorn and took a deep breath, then began to remove his clothing, directing Nan to be ready with the bandages.
Eowyn tried to focus her mind of the fact that this was a dreadfully injured man, not the King of Gondor that she was undressing, not Aragorn her friend, lying here unconscious soaking her bed with his blood. The sodden clothes were ripped and torn, saturated with rainwater and the king's blood, and were so heavy and unwieldy she had to have Faramir and Eomer help her pull them from the flaccid body on the bed. As they removed Aragorn's shredded tunic, Eowyn saw several long cuts slashed across his left shoulder and upper chest, evidence that a huge paw had raked across the flesh. They looked dangerous and painful, but bad as they appeared, they were not the source of the massive flow of blood; that was further down. As she reached for the waist of the breeches, Eomer caught her hand.
"Eowyn, it took me a long time to get the bleeding even to slow, when you pull the bandage off, I'm sure it will start again, I fear he may have a cut artery. Be ready." She nodded and motioned for Nan to be prepared. Faramir helped her to carefully peel off Aragorn's wet breeches revealing three hideously deep gashes running across his belly and into his groin. Eomer's makeshift bandage was drenched with blood and she could see it pooled beneath the material, knew that as soon as she removed the cloth the flow would start again. Her nostrils flared slightly as the rich, coppery smell filled the room.
"Oh, Eomer," she said in dismay, suddenly terrified. Her experiences in healing had not prepared her for this. Scratched knees and fevers with the boys, once a broken arm with one of the grooms, but nothing had readied her for ripped and lacerated flesh like this, with blood pouring copiously forth. She looked at Aragorn's injuries with horror. "I cannot do anything with this, we need someone else."
"There is no one else, Eowyn," said Eomer quietly.
She looked up at Faramir, her green eyes wide and frightened. "Faramir, I don't know how to help this, I don't know what to do. He needs to go to the Houses of Healing, in the city." She looked back down at the terrible wounds and shook her head in denial.
Faramir knelt down beside her and took her hands in his. "Eowyn, my love, listen to me." He spoke quietly but intensely and in his grey eyes she saw his own concern for the king. "He cannot make it to the city. He will bleed to death first. You must do this." He squeezed her fingers between his as he got to his feet. "We will help you, tell us what to do," he said encouragingly.
Eowyn sat still, trying to calm her racing heart and mind. She looked up at Aragorn's still, white face and as she did so, she felt the baby move again inside her and she had the sudden thought that everything good in her life, everything that she had, her husband, her family, her own life, was because Aragorn had come for her that day, come through the fog of his own weariness and through the blackness of her own despair, to call her out from the darkness, to lead her out from under the heavy cloud of the Black Breath. He had saved her, and Faramir, and her life was full and rich only because of the king. She could not do less for him now. With a determined sigh, she looked up at her husband.
"All right, do as I tell you," she said. "When I put the bandage on here, press down HARD." She took Faramir's hand and positioned it over the bandage where it covered the deepest gash at the bottom of Aragorn's groin. "Eomer," she crooked a finger to her brother, causing him to move closer to her. "You pull the bandage off when I say. Nan," she looked at her house matron. "Get me some towels." Without a word the woman was on her feet and had gone, returning in seconds with several folded pieces of thick cloth. Eowyn checked to see that Faramir was ready. He was poised over the injured area, watching for her signal. "Good," she said and turned to Eomer. "Ready?" He nodded. "All right, go ahead." She took the first towel from Nan and as Eomer slid his bandage off, the blood leaped out from beneath it, jetting across Aragorn's body. Frantically Eowyn replaced the bandage with the towel and Faramir pushed down as hard as he could, putting all of his weight into the action.
In seconds the folded cloth was reddening, the precious life fluid saturating the material. Eowyn felt a quiver of fear and looked up at her brother. "We'll take this one off, too, ready?" Once again they traded a clean cloth for a blood-soaked one, but now Eomer reached over and added his weight to Faramir's, both of them putting pressure on the wound. It took longer for the blood to seep through this time, and several minutes passed before the towel was soaked. Eowyn let herself have the slightest hope of success. Motioning to Nan to get the third towel ready, she swiftly placed it over the second, joining her hands to Faramir's and pressing down. Together the three of them kept up a steady pressure and this time the towel showed only the barest red spot in the center, no bigger than Eowyn's hand, and it grew no larger. She waited, listening to the rain hammer down on the roof, her eyes focused on the small spot.
After several minutes had passed and the stain stayed the same size, Eowyn allowed herself a tiny sigh of relief, even though she knew they were far from being out of danger. Easing her hands away from her husband's, she looked up at Faramir. "I want to keep pressure on it for a while, yet." He nodded, keeping his hands locked together and his weight on the injured area as Eomer did the same. There was silence in the bedchamber for a long while, only the sound of the rain outside and everyone's nervous breathing, broken by an occasional snap from the fire.
"How long before we know?" Eomer asked quietly after it seemed an eternity had passed.
Eowyn glanced at Aragorn's unmoving face before cautiously motioning the two men to ease up so she could pull the towel away and examine the lacerations. The blood welled up, but slowly and she could dab it away with the edge of the cloth as she gently probed the gashes. The top two were deep and deadly looking, but the bottom one was the worst; the claws of the warg had sliced through at least two inches of skin and muscle and near the bottom of the cut Eowyn could see the nicked artery, the blood now pulsing more slowly from a tiny slit where the edge of a claw had caught it.
"It is a very small cut," she said softly. "If we can keep the pressure on it, it should clot." She reached out to Nan for another towel and pressed it against the wound. "Faramir, put your hand back." She motioned with her head and he immediately returned to his previous position. Several more minutes passed before Eowyn decided she would look again.
Warily Faramir lessened his weight, pulling back ever so slightly while they all kept a close watch on the towel beneath his hand. As he eased the pressure he was putting forth, Faramir watched for any sign of fresh blood on the cloth. Bit by bit he pulled back until finally he was barely touching Aragorn at all and only the smallest spot of blood was visible on the towel. Each of them in the room breathed a little easier.
Eowyn's relief was shattered as Aragorn suddenly moaned and moved on the bed, shifting his body ever so slightly but enough that the towel beneath Farmir's hand began to turn red again.
"No, no," Eowyn cried out, laying her own hand across her husband's again and pressing down on the rapidly spreading stain.
"Faramir?" Aragorn's voice was weak and confused as his grey eyes opened and fixed dimly on Faramir's face. "What? – Why?" He levered one elbow beneath him and made an effort to sit up, causing the blood to gush through the padding Faramir held against the wound. Aragorn's face suddenly blanched and he broke out in a cold sweat as he collapsed against the pillow again. Eomer swore softly in Rohirric and once more added his weight to Faramir's on the bandage.
Aragorn was now semi-conscious and he reached down, trying to find the source of his pain. Quickly Faramir grasped the groping hands in his own and held them back, the loss of his pressure letting the blood surge through the bandage even more rapidly. "No, my lord, you must not," he said firmly. Eowyn placed another towel over the first and she and Eomer pushed down hard as Faramir held the king's hands away from the wound, his grip slipping in the king's own blood. Aragorn's eyes rolled back slightly and he whispered to Faramir. "How fares the city, my lord Steward?"
Eowyn looked up, realizing that in his confusion Aragorn thought he had been injured in a battle of some sort. Faramir shot an agonized look at her before he answered the king. "The city fares well, my lord. Now you must lie still." Aragorn swallowed and nodded slightly, his face deathly white, his eyes half closed as he breathed in shallow gasping breaths.
Nan handed her mistress the last of the towels she had brought and helped her place it over the others that were dripping wet with the king's blood. "You need more bandages, my lady," she said, speaking softly.
Eowyn nodded her head in agreement. "Bring whatever you can find, Nan," she said, then paused. "And bring me the bottle of camwort." She saw the house matron hesitate only a second before she gave a short bow and left the room. "Yes, my lady."
She could feel Faramir's eyes on her and looked up to meet his troubled grey gaze. "Camwort, Eowyn? Is that safe?"
She shook her head. "No, Faramir, is it not, but he must be still or we will never get the bleeding stopped."
Eomer looked back and forth at them worriedly. "What is this camwort? Is it dangerous?"
Faramir started to answer but again Aragorn moved again, trying in his confusion to pull away from Faramir's grip. Again the blood spurted, trickling through the towel and between Eomer's fingers. Eowyn felt a wild spiral of panic in her stomach at the amount of blood pooling beneath the king's body, fearing that he would bleed to death in her and Faramir's bed as she stood by helplessly. Frantically she pulled the coverlet from the bed and pressed one corner against the blood-soaked towel.
Nan burst into the room with an armload of towels and some sheets and blankets, anything she had been able to find in the few seconds she was gone, and a tiny earthenware bottle clutched in her hand. Wordlessly she handed it to her mistress. Eowyn uncorked the bottle and stood uncertainly by the bed for a moment.
"What does it do?" asked her brother, his eyes dark with worry. "Why are you so fearful of using it?"
"It's medicine, from the lands of Harad," said Faramir quietly. "It makes you sleep."
Eomer shrugged his shoulders slightly and gave each of them a questioning look. "That would be good, wouldn't it? He would be still."
Eowyn held the bottle and looked at the king, his head now rolling restlessly on the pillow as his hands twitched in Faramir's grasp and he moaned softly in his bewildered state. "It is very strong, Eomer. If you use it in the wrong way, you can kill the person."
Eomer's eyes widened as he looked at his sister, then he shifted his gaze to Faramir and then to Aragorn moving in agitation on the bed. He could feel the king's blood warm upon his hands and saw the stain widening across the velvet coverlet. When he looked back up he saw Eowyn and Faramir's eyes were locked on each other and at last Faramir nodded. "Do it, Eowyn. We do not seem to have any other choice."
With trembling hands Eowyn wiped the blood covering them on the coverlet and tipped the bottle to spill one tiny, viscous drop of a pale green fluid onto her finger. It sat there, glimmering in the firelight, no bigger than one of the seed pearls in her ring. She moved to the edge of the bed and caught the restless head of the king in her other hand, stroking his forehead gently and murmuring quiet words of comfort. Holding her breath, she slid her finger between Aragorn's blue-tinged lips and rubbed the miniscule droplet across his tongue.
In seconds the king's body relaxed, his head sinking back into the pillow, his cold hands slipping limply from Faramir's as he gently placed them on the bed. Eowyn laid her own hand close to Aragorn's face to assure herself he was breathing and felt a vast relief at the soft warm air she felt flow across her fingers.
"Now," she said as she turned back to Eomer. "Press as hard as you can." Taking a folded sheet from Nan, she resumed her attempts to stem the bleeding, placing the sheet over the bloody towels and motioning to both Faramir and Eomer to again put their weight on it.
It took longer this time to stop the bleeding, and desperate moments passed when Eowyn began to despair of ever seeing the flow lessen, but at last, when it seemed nearly every towel she owned was lying in a bloody pile on the bedchamber floor, the hemorrhage finally clotted over and stopped. She held back a sob of relief even as she heard Faramir's gusty sigh across the bed from her. With cautious movements Eowyn tied a bandage on tightly, wrapping a strip of torn sheet around Aragorn's groin and belly to hold the cloth even more closely in place as he lay limp and quiet beneath her hands.
As she sat back a moment and massaged her aching back, Eowyn could still hear the rain outside pounding down and had a moment's worry about rising water. But it was quickly pushed to the back of her mind as she straightened and began to tend to Aragorn's other wounds. Nan was an able helper and she had the needle and thread ready, the smaller bandages prepared and a basin of hot water with a cloth to wash out the shallower cuts.
Eowyn gently blotted the slashes across Aragorn's shoulder and chest, making sure they were clean before she stitched them closed. Beside her, as they washed their blood-covered hands in the basin that stood by the bed, Eomer told Faramir what had happened earlier in the night.
"We couldn't camp at the caves, they were flooded, as Aragorn had suspected. We set up camp on a nearby ridge. The rain started again just as we finished putting up the tents and were eating." Eomer crossed his arms, not noticing the blood smeared across his clothes, and frowned as he talked. "Aragorn suggested coming back here, but I said we would get just as wet coming back as staying, so we decided to stay." He sighed and looked at the fire. "Perhaps if we had…"
Faramir shook his head. "Those kind of thoughts serve no purpose, Eomer. Tell me about the wargs." His eyes narrowed as Eomer continued his story.
"They came right into the camp. I've never seen anything like it." He moved away from the bed and went to stand before the fireplace, his still wet clothes steaming slightly in the heat. "They came into the tents. I can only guess they have been flooded out of their lairs and are starving and roaming the countryside. They were even more vicious than usual, they attacked anything that moved."
"How many?" Faramir's eyes never left Eowyn's hands as she tended to the king.
"At least eight, maybe more. It was dark and with the rain, I'm not sure." Eomer suddenly leaned against the mantel of the fireplace. "We killed two, but not before they killed three of our men, two of Rohan and one of Aragorn's guards."
Eowyn gasped and Faramir turned quickly to him. "What? Why didn't you say something earlier?"
Eomer straightened his shoulders and faced his brother-in-law. "To what purpose? They were dead, and Aragorn is not. I could not have helped them."
"We'll send someone after the bodies in the morning," said Faramir quietly. Eomer shook his head.
"The wargs will have devoured them by then." He closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead tiredly. "We had to leave some of the horses. They'll be gone, too."
Faramir returned his gaze to Aragorn. "How did you save the king?"
Eomer smiled grimly. "I didn't. We were in the same tent, just talking, and suddenly one of them was in there, right on top of us. He had Aragorn and was dragging him outside before I even knew what was happening. But then the dog attacked him."
Eowyn halted her ministrations and looked at her brother, her eyes wide. He nodded and gave a short laugh that held no amusement. "Yes, Eowyn, Grima saved the king, gave his life for him, in fact." His mouth suddenly twisted and he turned back to the fire. Eowyn stayed quiet and continued with her sewing and bandaging. Faramir lowered his eyes for a moment before looking up and giving Eomer more than a cursory glance for the first time that night.
The King of Rohan slumped wearily as he leaned against the mantel piece, his hair still wet and tangled, his clothing now half dried but still damp with mud, rain and blood. Crossing the room, Faramir tentatively took him by the shoulder, knowing his brother-in-law was not one to accept comfort easily. "Sit down, here, and get dry." He motioned to a large chair that had been pushed aside in all the confusion. Eowyn often sat in it at night, nursing a baby or just enjoying the fire.
Showing more reluctance than he actually felt, Eomer allowed himself to be eased into the chair and let Faramir help him remove his clammy tunic. As he pulled the damp sleeves from Eomer's arms, Faramir could see several bloody scratches on the muscled biceps and definite teethmarks on Eomer's shoulder.
"It seems Aragorn was not the only victim," he said quietly. Eomer glanced at the cuts and made a dismissive gesture with his head.
"They are nothing serious. The thing was half dead, I was trying to get Aragorn out from under it." He leaned his head back against the chair and sighed, suddenly feeling all of the forty years that he had reached this past winter.
"Hmm." Faramir was eying a long tear in Eomer's breeches along his thigh that was surrounded by a large wet blotch. Saying nothing, he turned back to Eowyn. "How goes it?"
She leaned back a little, letting him see her and Nan's progress. The gory wounds across Aragorn's body were now each cleansed and stitched and hidden beneath thick bandages. Nan rinsed a cloth in clean water and handed it to Eowyn, who gently wiped the blood from the king's face and hands as he lay motionless. "I think we have done all that we can," she said softly, "I'd like to put him on clean sheets, but I dare not move him, not for a while at least." She returned the cloth to Nan and sat back in the chair.
"Then perhaps you can tend to your brother." Faramir shifted his eyes to the thigh wound and Eowyn's followed. Instantly she was beside Eomer. "Were you going to say anything about this? Or just let it bleed? Stand up." She pulled him to his feet and began pulling off his breeches as if he were one of the boys. He grabbed at them and glared at her. "Eowyn!"
"What? I'm your sister, let me see." She pulled at the waist of the breeches again, this time succeeding in pulling them down far enough to see a ragged gash.
"It's not that bad," said Eomer as his sister fussed and retrieved her needle and thread from Nan.
"Be quiet and let me sew." Eowyn commanded. As she tended to the cut she had to admit that after Aragorn's grievous wounds it did not seem too serious. Eomer set his jaw stoically and looked away as she carefully stitched the edges of skin together. Faramir returned to the bed as she worked, his eyes fixed on the king's face. Except for the rapid rise and fall of chest as he breathed, Aragorn looked dead, his face white and peaceful, his body unmoving. Faramir knew that was the effect of camwort, and had seen it used twice before, but it was still unnerving, the total stillness that it caused. One of the two men Faramir had seen under its influence had died, but whether from his wounds or too much of the drug, he didn't know, although he had heard stories of healers with good intentions and a heavy hand accidentally overdosing their patients.
Still, as he had told Eowyn, they had had no other choice. He looked at the heap of bloody cloths on the floor and felt a cold chill of fear. They still might lose him; Faramir had seen men bleed to death in battle and regardless of the storied vitality of those with Numenorean lineage, he knew Aragorn had come close. He went to sit on the bed beside him, but then thought better of causing any movement and stayed on his feet. Behind him Eowyn finished her doctoring and settled Eomer back in the chair.
"Sit here and rest," she said softly, giving him a gentle pat on the unharmed shoulder. He grunted as she gathered up her medical supplies. Straightening up, she felt an unexpected wave of weakness and put a hand to her head, suddenly realizing she was exhausted. She quickly put her hand down, hoping no one had noticed, but of course Faramir's eyes had caught her movement and he was beside her right away.
"You need to go to bed." He took the handful of used bandages and the needle from her hands and took her arm. "I want you to go lie down." She began to protest but Faramir guided her gently but insistently into the hallway, stopping before Elboron's room.
"What are you doing?" She couldn't help leaning against him, feeling his strong arm around her. "I can sleep in one of the guest rooms."
"They aren't warm enough, there are no fires lit." He knocked softly on the door before he opened it.
Elboron sat up in bed, his green eyes fuzzy with sleep. "Father?"
"Your mother needs to lie down and she needs your bed." Faramir motioned to the boy to climb out and he did so without delay, even as the questions started.
"Why? What's wrong?" His eyes widened as he looked at his parents. "You've got blood on you!"
Faramir shook his head at his son. "In a moment." He lightly pushed Eowyn down into the still warm sheets. "Get some rest."
Eowyn tried to glare at him, but her fierce look was interrupted by a huge yawn and she saw Faramir suppress a distracted smile. "You were wonderful, my love. No healer in the city could have done as well." He kissed her and tucked the blanket around her. "Now get some sleep. Nan or I can take care of everything else."
"I can't sleep," said Eowyn as another yawn overtook her. "What if you need something…"
"I promise to come get you if it's necessary," said Faramir soberly, backing slowly out of the room followed by Elboron, the look of complete confusion still on his face. Faramir pulled the door shut behind him and Eowyn lay quiet for a moment, listening the rain. In a matter of minutes she was asleep.
TO BE CONTINUED
NOTES: Okay, first – I KNOW Faramir's GRANDSON is named Barahir, and here I made it his son's name. Boys ARE sometimes named after fathers or favorite uncles, you know. There is a reason I did this, hopefully I'll get the side story written one day. Just work with me here, okay?
Second – Thanks to Raksha the Demon for beta'ing and giving excellent suggestions and pointing out inconsistencies! And for letting me use the term "Eowyn Wraithbane", which she and Clarion used first in the Come to Harm story. (which is really good – check it out, well, first read Made to Suffer, and then you can enjoy the third installment Home to Heal that they are working on now.
Third – I invented the word "camwort" for my Haradric sedative. There is not such thing in the "real" Middle Earth…