Author's Note: Here is the next chapter, hehe. There is a funny little bit
in here of a secret shared by Elladan, Elrohir, and Aragorn when Aragorn
was little, I hope you enjoy it! Tell me what you think. Should I
continue?
At first, Aragorn believed that his body was far too tired to even provide him with enough energy to even open his eyes. However, the more he thought about it, he realized that the task was not impossible. Slowly, with great care, he forced his tired and heavy lids open. Elrond was leaning over him, busy with something, undoubtedly one of Aragorn's wounds. He did not seem to notice that Aragorn was awake. Aragorn was pleased to find that his body felt entirely numb. There was no pain to speak of, just a far off memory of something terrible. Aragorn was alert enough to realized Elrond must have given hi something to ease the pain. He longed to speak and ask Elrond what his condition was. Would he survive? What had happened to Legolas? He owed the Prince his life thus far. And had he imagined Arwen's voice? Even if none of these questions could be answered, he had to tell Elrond of his message. He was desperate for Elrond to realize he was awake, but his voice did not work.
Willing his body to obey him, he managed to lift his hand and touched his foster-father on the arm. Elrond turned, startled.
"Estel! Do not try to speak. Relax. Do not try to move, you will only hurt yourself. My son, you are hurt very badly and you must rest. I am doing what I can for you." Elrond moved to pull away, but Aragorn refused to let go of his sleeve, using all the energy he had.
No Father. I have a message. Please pay attention.
Elrond turned back to face Aragorn. "Aragorn, let go." With great pain, Aragorn shook his head with a firm no. "What is it Estel? Of course! You were on our way here with a purpose…" Elrond seemed to be thinking. "Do you have a message for me? No, do not try to answer, I can see it in your eyes. Surely you are not carrying it on you?" Elrond searched Aragorn's face for a few moments, trying to think back to what his foster-son would have done during the times he lived happily as a boy in Rivendell. This was not the first time Aragorn had borne messages here and all Elrond had to do was remember how he had hidden the messages. "Of course! Evaria has it! I understand Estel and I promise you that I will look for it as soon as I am sure that you…never mind. Sleep. You need rest, for you will need all of your strength to fight this poison in your body."
Satisfied that he had completed his duty, Aragorn let go of Elrond's sleeve, realizing for the first time how much effort that small act had taken. He tried to smile at Elrond, to tell him he would fight. After all, he was an heir to the throne of Gondor and he had to survive. Finally he gave up the fight to stay awake and closed his eyes again. He felt Elrond's cool hand touch his cheek, but then he knew no more.
Elrond turned from Estel, grateful that his torn body had relaxed and the young man slept again. He turned back to his work, an almost futile attempt to cleanse Aragorn's body of the poison. The actual flesh wounds were just as deadly. Elrond had used the finest elven thread to stitch the wound on Aragorn's back. Elrond had laced it with powders and herbs, praying they would fight the infection and poison. The wound on Aragorn's chest was more grievous. The sword had cut all the way to the bone of Aragorn' ribs, breaking three ribs in the process. These broken bones placed pressure on the so far unharmed lungs, but the pressure caused Aragorn's breathing to be labored. Elrond was relieved that an infection had not set in thus far and Aragorn's fever had broken early.
"Estel, you must live, for I did not name you Estel, the hope of man, for nothing. You will be High King of Gondor. I know you have chosen exile for the time being. You fear your heritage, but it will be this way. It is not yet the time for you to face the darkness, but that time will come, and I am confidant that when you are faced with your destiny, you will not fail yourself, nor any of those who should care whether you do or not." Elrond paused, looking back down at his foster-son. "I have done all I can for you now Estel. Do not die. You have much to liver for and your destiny calls. Do not…" Elrond hesitated before continuing," Do not forget my daughter and what I promised you. Sleep well, Aragorn son of Arathorn. I dare not to hope, but can only suspect that the blood that runs through your veins is strong enough to fight this evil." With that final encouragement, Elrond pulled a covering over Aragorn's bandaged and bare chest. He brushed Aragorn's dark hair away form his closed eyes and left the room, hoping all Aragorn need was time.
As Elrond had spoken his words of wisdom, a battle raged within Aragorn's mind and body. His body was facing a trauma it had never experienced before. It rebelled against the pain and wounds, crying out about the seeping poison. To be so broken was unacceptable. In his mind, the battle was much the same, but it was if Aragorn was wandering lost in a dream. Everything was dark and hazy, but Aragorn was aware that he seemed to be standing in some place his mind had conjured up. He reached down to touch his chest where the gaping wound had been, but there was nothing now.
"So I must fight now," he mumbled to himself.
"No Aragorn, you need not fight, but you must survive. You must find a way out of this terrible place," the voice belonged to Arwen, thought he could not see her.
"Arwen?"
"Shh. I am not your beloved, Estel. Just as you are called hope, for now I am to be your hope. I know you wish to return to her, or you never would have imagined her voice as mine."
"Who are you then? A demon sent to distract and destroy me? For I know I am not dead yet."
"I told you, I am your hope. You must return to all of them and the only way you know how is to travel through something tangible in your mind. If you want to be called Elessar someday, you must leave this place."
"And if I am not to be called Elessar?"
"You are. If you want to live, search for the White City, for you belong there Aragorn."
"The White City? Minas Tirith?" Aragorn questioned, but there was no answer, apparently even his imagination had left him. "Well, I have no wish to stay here, so I will find the White City." Even though darkness still surrounded him, the gloom seemed to lift and his mind fabricated the terrain of Middle Earth for the journey he was about to take part in.
Outside of Aragorn's journey within his mind, the world moved. Hours passed, night came, and the sun rose again. Elrond rarely left his son's side, though he did take some time to search for the message Aragorn had been so concerned about. As he was searching the belongings that Evaria had carried for Aragorn, his twin sons arrived. Elladan and Elrohir had been hunting, but had returned immediately when Glorfindel had brought news to them of Aragorn's peril. Elrond quickly explained Estel's condition to them and also shared about the message. Elrohir had managed to let out a soft laugh and went straight to face Evaria. Elrond watched in wonder as Elrohir coaxed Evaria to open her mouth, out of which he pulled a tooled silver capsule, decorated in elvish words. Inside the capsule was a rolled message addressed to Elrond.
"How else do you think Estel knew where to meet us in the woods when he sneaked out while he was supposed to be taking care of the horses?" Without another word, Elrohir turned and he and Elladan went out, presumably to go and see their hurt brother. Elrond watched them leave, his mouth open just a little. Finally, he shook his head and returned to Aragorn's side. The hours turned into a few days and Aragorn did not do as much as stir or awake, but Elrond was relieved that no infection developed.
Arwen sat next to him faithfully, not leaving his side, even to eat and Elrond became concerned for her health, but he could not convince her to leave. Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, and even Legolas hovered outside of the chamber doors, hoping for even the smallest change. In his mind, Aragorn knew they were there and he was tired of his journey, determined that over the next rise, he would see the white spires and be safe. He increased his pace, but froze in mid-step, for behind him, he heard a cold scream. He turned, only to find himself facing the nine Nazgul, and they were waiting for his death.
At first, Aragorn believed that his body was far too tired to even provide him with enough energy to even open his eyes. However, the more he thought about it, he realized that the task was not impossible. Slowly, with great care, he forced his tired and heavy lids open. Elrond was leaning over him, busy with something, undoubtedly one of Aragorn's wounds. He did not seem to notice that Aragorn was awake. Aragorn was pleased to find that his body felt entirely numb. There was no pain to speak of, just a far off memory of something terrible. Aragorn was alert enough to realized Elrond must have given hi something to ease the pain. He longed to speak and ask Elrond what his condition was. Would he survive? What had happened to Legolas? He owed the Prince his life thus far. And had he imagined Arwen's voice? Even if none of these questions could be answered, he had to tell Elrond of his message. He was desperate for Elrond to realize he was awake, but his voice did not work.
Willing his body to obey him, he managed to lift his hand and touched his foster-father on the arm. Elrond turned, startled.
"Estel! Do not try to speak. Relax. Do not try to move, you will only hurt yourself. My son, you are hurt very badly and you must rest. I am doing what I can for you." Elrond moved to pull away, but Aragorn refused to let go of his sleeve, using all the energy he had.
No Father. I have a message. Please pay attention.
Elrond turned back to face Aragorn. "Aragorn, let go." With great pain, Aragorn shook his head with a firm no. "What is it Estel? Of course! You were on our way here with a purpose…" Elrond seemed to be thinking. "Do you have a message for me? No, do not try to answer, I can see it in your eyes. Surely you are not carrying it on you?" Elrond searched Aragorn's face for a few moments, trying to think back to what his foster-son would have done during the times he lived happily as a boy in Rivendell. This was not the first time Aragorn had borne messages here and all Elrond had to do was remember how he had hidden the messages. "Of course! Evaria has it! I understand Estel and I promise you that I will look for it as soon as I am sure that you…never mind. Sleep. You need rest, for you will need all of your strength to fight this poison in your body."
Satisfied that he had completed his duty, Aragorn let go of Elrond's sleeve, realizing for the first time how much effort that small act had taken. He tried to smile at Elrond, to tell him he would fight. After all, he was an heir to the throne of Gondor and he had to survive. Finally he gave up the fight to stay awake and closed his eyes again. He felt Elrond's cool hand touch his cheek, but then he knew no more.
Elrond turned from Estel, grateful that his torn body had relaxed and the young man slept again. He turned back to his work, an almost futile attempt to cleanse Aragorn's body of the poison. The actual flesh wounds were just as deadly. Elrond had used the finest elven thread to stitch the wound on Aragorn's back. Elrond had laced it with powders and herbs, praying they would fight the infection and poison. The wound on Aragorn's chest was more grievous. The sword had cut all the way to the bone of Aragorn' ribs, breaking three ribs in the process. These broken bones placed pressure on the so far unharmed lungs, but the pressure caused Aragorn's breathing to be labored. Elrond was relieved that an infection had not set in thus far and Aragorn's fever had broken early.
"Estel, you must live, for I did not name you Estel, the hope of man, for nothing. You will be High King of Gondor. I know you have chosen exile for the time being. You fear your heritage, but it will be this way. It is not yet the time for you to face the darkness, but that time will come, and I am confidant that when you are faced with your destiny, you will not fail yourself, nor any of those who should care whether you do or not." Elrond paused, looking back down at his foster-son. "I have done all I can for you now Estel. Do not die. You have much to liver for and your destiny calls. Do not…" Elrond hesitated before continuing," Do not forget my daughter and what I promised you. Sleep well, Aragorn son of Arathorn. I dare not to hope, but can only suspect that the blood that runs through your veins is strong enough to fight this evil." With that final encouragement, Elrond pulled a covering over Aragorn's bandaged and bare chest. He brushed Aragorn's dark hair away form his closed eyes and left the room, hoping all Aragorn need was time.
As Elrond had spoken his words of wisdom, a battle raged within Aragorn's mind and body. His body was facing a trauma it had never experienced before. It rebelled against the pain and wounds, crying out about the seeping poison. To be so broken was unacceptable. In his mind, the battle was much the same, but it was if Aragorn was wandering lost in a dream. Everything was dark and hazy, but Aragorn was aware that he seemed to be standing in some place his mind had conjured up. He reached down to touch his chest where the gaping wound had been, but there was nothing now.
"So I must fight now," he mumbled to himself.
"No Aragorn, you need not fight, but you must survive. You must find a way out of this terrible place," the voice belonged to Arwen, thought he could not see her.
"Arwen?"
"Shh. I am not your beloved, Estel. Just as you are called hope, for now I am to be your hope. I know you wish to return to her, or you never would have imagined her voice as mine."
"Who are you then? A demon sent to distract and destroy me? For I know I am not dead yet."
"I told you, I am your hope. You must return to all of them and the only way you know how is to travel through something tangible in your mind. If you want to be called Elessar someday, you must leave this place."
"And if I am not to be called Elessar?"
"You are. If you want to live, search for the White City, for you belong there Aragorn."
"The White City? Minas Tirith?" Aragorn questioned, but there was no answer, apparently even his imagination had left him. "Well, I have no wish to stay here, so I will find the White City." Even though darkness still surrounded him, the gloom seemed to lift and his mind fabricated the terrain of Middle Earth for the journey he was about to take part in.
Outside of Aragorn's journey within his mind, the world moved. Hours passed, night came, and the sun rose again. Elrond rarely left his son's side, though he did take some time to search for the message Aragorn had been so concerned about. As he was searching the belongings that Evaria had carried for Aragorn, his twin sons arrived. Elladan and Elrohir had been hunting, but had returned immediately when Glorfindel had brought news to them of Aragorn's peril. Elrond quickly explained Estel's condition to them and also shared about the message. Elrohir had managed to let out a soft laugh and went straight to face Evaria. Elrond watched in wonder as Elrohir coaxed Evaria to open her mouth, out of which he pulled a tooled silver capsule, decorated in elvish words. Inside the capsule was a rolled message addressed to Elrond.
"How else do you think Estel knew where to meet us in the woods when he sneaked out while he was supposed to be taking care of the horses?" Without another word, Elrohir turned and he and Elladan went out, presumably to go and see their hurt brother. Elrond watched them leave, his mouth open just a little. Finally, he shook his head and returned to Aragorn's side. The hours turned into a few days and Aragorn did not do as much as stir or awake, but Elrond was relieved that no infection developed.
Arwen sat next to him faithfully, not leaving his side, even to eat and Elrond became concerned for her health, but he could not convince her to leave. Elladan, Elrohir, Glorfindel, and even Legolas hovered outside of the chamber doors, hoping for even the smallest change. In his mind, Aragorn knew they were there and he was tired of his journey, determined that over the next rise, he would see the white spires and be safe. He increased his pace, but froze in mid-step, for behind him, he heard a cold scream. He turned, only to find himself facing the nine Nazgul, and they were waiting for his death.