At long last night came to an end with the sky beginning to grow lighter. Aragorn wearily and almost grudgingly rose to look out the east window. He wished that just this once Earendil would change course and appear as Morning's Star in the east instead of the west.
Morning brought at least some hope to the Ranger. Glorfindel's surgery, though slow and tedious, was perfect, the Elven threads hardly obvious. Now it was just a matter of allowing the arm's muscles and tissues to heal properly, then exercising it back to strength.
Aragorn laughed shortly in something that sounded like self-contempt at thinking these things. Sure, that was what was required for the arm to heal, but what about Faramir's heart? What had driven his son to put a knife through his own arm? What would he say to his son when, or if, he awoke?
He turned back to look at Faramir, the morning's softly tinted light enveloping him in warmth such a contrast to the cold silver that had laid over him in the night. Though morning was fair, Aragorn shivered of hungry and fear for his grown child. Erestor could stand it no longer and forced the King to eat something. The three of them had been awake through the night, Glorfindel allowing himself a small bit of sleep after the surgery.
Together Aragorn and Erestor sat by the window, sharing a plate of fruit. The King's eyes never once moved from Faramir, and he ate only as a reaction to the hunger he felt, not wholly aware of his actions.
"Do you think his arm should be bound?" Aragorn asked in a voice that sounded wooden and far away. "If he wakes and moves it, he will be overcome by the pain. I know, it's happened to me."
"I know you know," Erestor said. "I was the one who assisted Glorfindel with the procedure when Elrond was too unsteady. Some things never change, mellon," the dark-haired Elf said dryly. "However, no, i do not think his arm should be bound. It needs to be free as long as possible if it is to heal properly."
"Why do you think he did it, Erestor? Why would my son do something like that?" Aragorn asked sadly.
"If he has had anything near what i dealt with when i was keeping that office, i am little surprised," Erestor said, quite regaining his typical personality. "Listen to me, though, Estel. Sometimes there are forces which push us to act in ways we would never act normally."
"Do you think he had too much to drink?" Aragorn asked, almost sounding childlike to Erestor's ears.
"Faramir did not drink last night, Estel. You have studied much. I know, for i taught you much. Use your knowledge. The knife you found was not a coincidence."
"It was my knife," Aragorn said, feeling a shot of guilt. "I was going to leave it as a gift to him. If i would have known -"
"None can know, Estel. You know that very well. Between Elrond and Mithrandir those should be the very words you live by. No, you must look deeper yet. Look to the knife itself. That is not just an ordinary knife," Erestor said pointedly.
"Gud daedheloth," Aragorn said softly. "But if this is truly a foe of Morgoth's realm, then it should be our ally. Why did this thing cause such harm to my son?"
Erestor fought back a sad laugh. "Now you blame the steel, Aragorn? Must i tell you directly, can you not understand this?"
"No, Erestor, i can not understand," Aragorn snapped at the advisor. "I can not understand why my son drove a knife into his arm. I can not understand why he has been behaving strangely. I can not understand why he still sleeps. I can not understand why i feel in him indecision as to whether he wants to live or die. I can no longer understand anything, and i truly do not care. I just want someone to tell me how to get him back."
Erestor exhaled a long, deep sigh. He put his arm around Aragorn's tense shoulders. "I am sorry, mellon. I can see and feel how this plagues you. You must have faith and trust and hope though, do not give in to despair. We are not the only ones putting ourselves forth for him."
"I don't care about anything else, Erestor," Aragorn said, tears beginning to break. "I just want my son to be well."
"He will be, Estel," Erestor assured, allowing Aragorn to lean on him. "He is looking much better this morning than he did through the night. Give him a little more sleep, then perhaps you should gently try to wake him. I will go have something for him to eat brought up."
Aragorn nodded, moving closer to Faramir as Erestor rose. Again he took Faramir's hand in his. "Er'?" he said, glancing up.
The Elf looked back to him.
"Sorry i shouted at you. I should be thanking you, i owe you a great debt," Aragorn said apologetically.
Erestor merely shook his head. "You owe me nothing, Estel. If i can withstand Elrond's tirades, i can surely put up with an outburst or two from you. After all, he is a great Elf-lord, and you are but a weak Mortal," Erestor said with a grin as he disappeared out the door.
Aragorn shook his head, a wisp of a smile crossing his lips. It almost hurt to smile again after such a long while. Aragorn sat back in the large and comfortable chair at Faramir's bedside, Glorfindel sound asleep just opposite him. He admired the Balrog-slayer's work, Faramir's arm was no longer a chilling sight to behold, but looked almost as though nothing had happened at all.
Aragorn rose and tossed another Athelas leaf into the water on the hearth. He had been very judicious in allowing Erestor to handle the leaves through the night. He would have been reckless and put them all in at once in a desperate attempt to wake Faramir. Returning to his son's side, Aragorn rested back again and waited for the slightest stirring from his child. The steam and the peace of morning was quickly lulling him to his own much needed slumber when he swore he felt a tightening grasp from Faramir's hand.
"Faramir?" he called out, suddenly wide awake. "Faramir, wake, please." He rejoiced when he heard his son's voice, scarcely even a whisper, but he knew he heard him. He had spoken his brother's name, questioning and sounding as though he knew it was not his brother calling to him, but still asking for him. "Faramir, wake up, my son. Please, come back to me," Aragorn begged of him, knowing now his son could hear his pleas.
"Adar?" Faramir whispered, beginning to regain his voice.
ooo
Since my wonderful reviewers have cracked the 100 mark, i thought i would give you all a little something to celebrate :) You have no idea how much i really love reading all your notes.
To Kat: Thank you for your review! There actually was Athelas... it wasn't just Elf magic. In the same paragraph that Aragorn remembers he gave what he had to Faramir back in Rohan, he checks the pouch on Faramir's belt and finds it still filled with the leaves. Being a good Ranger, Fara' keeps the stuff on him at all times. Of course, now you have me wondering if that sentence didn't turn on when i posted it, if not it must be corrected.
I really should get this beta-read, probably, but i am just so eager to upload the chapters when i have them written. And i know you are all eager to read them ASAP. (I am a secretary and at work it is my practice to have all things i have typed for publication proofread by three different people before printing... but then again, this is just fanfiction....)
