Aragorn realized in an instant that he could contently remain in the room with Faramir for the rest of the day, but there were others who needed him. Though he was loathe to leave the young steward, he promised to soon return upon Faramir's promise to take rest and nourishment enough to return to health as quickly as possible.
Though Aragorn put forth no less effort to revive Eowyn and Merry, and was no less rejoiced of their wakening, he desired to visit again Faramir. It was noticed by some of quick wit and keen observation that Aragorn frequently glanced toward Faramir's room, almost as though hoping to catch hearing him speak to someone.
Eowyn woke with the aid of two kings, her brother's voice calling her back to the land of the living. Aragorn took heed that her nightmare had told her of her brother's death and again he wondered what terrible sadness might have struck at Faramir in black dreams.
Continuing onward to revive Merry, Aragorn turned to Gandalf as they walked. "I will speak with Faramir again at more length once i am sure Merry is again. . . merry," Aragorn ended sounding somewhat pathetic in his sudden loss of vocabulary.
"Merry will wake with much less difficulty than the other two, you may be assured of that. Hobbits really are amazing creatures," Gandalf mused. "However, once Merry is with us again, you shall have some nourishment and sleep. How long now have you done without both? It is beginning to affect your wits, and you shall need them all in the days to come."
"I know that, Gandalf. Perhaps i can dine with Faramir though, both he and i share the needs you mention."
"Indeed, but what rest will come for either of you in talking and getting into the facts of long-ago years?" Gandalf said pointedly, in a tone that told Aragorn that the wizard indeed knew much that was hidden.
Aragorn was silent for a moment and looked rather dark, but he gradually relented. "You are right, mellon-nin," Aragorn sighed. "First things come first. Some good it would do to talk to him before there is even a future secured."
"You have much thinking to do yet, Aragorn. Rush not into so grave a matter." They stopped before entering Merry's chamber. "As a friend of Meriadoc's is given to say, "Do not be hasty...."
That night Aragorn lay in bed, an actual, proper bed, after a full meal. These things he had not experienced since leaving Rivendell. Though they were well cared for in Lorien, even the lofty talain didn't quite compare to the reality that this mortal stronghold afforded him. After all, it was in his very blood.
Yet Aragorn found no peace in sleep. He tried greatly, likely too greatly, to relax and rest, but too many thoughts appealed for his attention at once. There was mostly the days to come. As Gandalf had put it, he would be needing all of his wits about him. It would be a suicide mission and he wondered if he would indeed ever be required to own up to the title he had so long avoided. He would fight well and fight hard, and wisely, for he did not have a death wish. Yet he knew that unless their timing was absolutely precise, the only hope they really had was that at least, by their selfless deaths, a long-overdue end would come to the terror that had plagued Middle-earth since before even Elrond could remember.
Then there were the two reasons his own "selfless" death made him near sick with hesitation. If he did not return from the march on the Morannon that the free lords had planned, he would be leaving behind the two people in all of Middle-earth he cared most about. Everyone else he truly cared about would either be fighting at his side and risking the same, or would be able to sail a grey ship into the West where pain lingered not. But Arwen had given up the life of the Eldar, and with it her right to go to Valinor, in profound loyalty to her beloved. And Faramir....
Aragorn shuddered with a jolt of shock and anger at himself as a thought registered with him. If he had not cured Faramir, and if his own death came in the forthcoming battle, Aragorn believed they could be reunited in the beyond. "It is only a reason to fight harder to live," he told himself. "I can not now leave those i love so."
Another thought stole into the ranger's whirling mind. What of the truth? How exactly could such a thing ever be imparted without destroying what Aragorn for so long hoped could be? There were many involved and he realized that such repercussions came to matter too late.
How would Arwen react, and Imrahil? Or his dear friends? Should they even know? Was it ever right to keep secrets from those you love? These things he did not want to think about, but he knew that by avoiding them he would only be acting immature and irresponsible. He could ill afford those qualities in his life again.
Defeated by himself, he rose from the comfortable bed and stepped out onto the balcony, hoping the cold night air would clear his mind. Unfortunately, his room faced due east. Fortunately, by his window stood one of the only trees in Minas Tirith neither in the healing garden nor guarded heavily.
In that tree rested an elf, absorbed in meditating on the strength of their enemy and what force would be required of him. "Know thine enemy," Thranduil's words so often came. The heavy mortal footsteps drew Legolas away from his thoughts. There was no starlight or moonlight to tell, but Legolas knew the hour was one in which his brother-in-arms should have been sleeping soundly.
