Chapter 8 These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain.
A/N This story is a prequel to "The Hidden Days of Healing" also on this site. The story is based on a mixture of the book and the film mixed freely with my own imagination.
I did only intend to write one "Lord of the Rings" story but the response I received to "The Hidden Days of Healing" amazed me and encouraged me to write more. Depending on the response I get, I may write another story after this.
This is dedicated to all my loyal readers.
A very big thank you to everyone who has reviewed. Your comments are much appreciated. I agree it would have been nice to see these scenes in the film!
There had been no time for rest though, for if the Captains of the West were to emerge victorious when Gondor was besieged and they were outnumbered, there was only one choice about which path he must take.
Although he had outwardly appeared calm and controlled, Aragorn had felt the same chill of fear as those with him, when he rode the paths of the dead to summon the oath breakers, warriors who were cursed by his ancestor Isildur, never to rest until summoned by his heir to defend Gondor.
Again, his will had prevailed, but he was wearied both in body and spirit. There was still no rest after the battle of Pelennor Fields as many were wounded and under the shadow of the Black Breath, a malady that only the hands of the King could heal.
Stretching out his long legs, he leaned back in the bath, allowing his natural optimism to resurface. Though it seemed likely, he would die in the coming battle he hoped it would not be in vain and he was determined to die bravely, his sword in his hand, fighting against the Dark Lord's minions. Faramir might yet rule Gondor in peace and prosperity.
He smiled at the thought, once he had recovered, he was certain Faramir would make a good steward, as he sensed in him a man of rare quality after his own heart, a man he would gladly choose as friend if only the time were given him.
The battle for Faramir's life had been the hardest and drained him utterly, but it was a battle he had rejoiced in winning once he saw the look of love and knowledge on Faramir's face when he awakened and looked into his eyes.
He washed his hair and reluctantly climbed out of the bath, wrapping a towel round himself as he did so.
Once dried he glanced down at his bruised body thinking he was scarcely in a fit condition to fight a battle, led alone lead one. But such was the lot of many in these evil times, be they common soldier or king.
He had requested that clean linen and a shirt and breeches be left here for him. He dressed in them quickly before Imrahil, Eomer, or Legolas could arrive, as he had no desire for them to see his injuries.
Eomer sneezed as he rooted through a heap of dusty armour, he cursed as he banged his knee against yet another ancient rusted breastplate.
Legolas continued to search diligently while Imrahil looked on, a worried frown creasing his usually serene features.
The vault was packed with armour, some of it very ancient and maybe even dating from when the Kings had reigned in Gondor, but most of it was rusted and corroded and that which was wearable was made for someone much broader than Aragorn.
"It seems the Gondorian Kings of old enjoyed their state banquets!" Remarked Eomer, kicking aside a breastplate, which looked as if it would have fitted both himself and Aragorn at the same time.
Eventually Legolas' keen eyes spotted some suitable items and servants were summoned to clean and polish them.
They entered the chamber where Aragorn was awaiting them and made obeisance both as was the custom and as a token of respect to this modest yet noble heir to the ancient throne of kings.
If they were surprised that Aragorn was already dressed, they made no sign thinking maybe such was the custom of the reclusive Rangers from the North.
Aragorn accepted their homage, looking somewhat embarrassed that his comrades should kneel to him.
As the representative of Gondor Imrahil first belted on a full skirt of mail about Aragorn's slender waist and a shirt of mail was put on that was tightened with leather points that laced through wide leather hems at the back, which were fastened by Eomer followed by a leather belt which Legolas buckled at the back of Aragorn's neck.
Fitted to this were Pauldrons of steel and leather edged in gold and etched with Gondorian motives and large steel and leather rerebraces fashioned to resemble the winged crown and seven stars of the king.
Boromir's vambraces completed the arm protection, those same vambraces, which Aragorn had sworn to carry in honour of his fallen comrade until the last battle was won or he died defending Gondor from her enemies.
They worked in silence, each all too aware that this could be Aragorn's and their last battle, one from which it was unlikely they would return.
Warriors all, they would gladly give their lifeblood for the hope of a better future that they would not live to see.
Then Imrahil brought forth a beautiful black velvet cloak, lined with scarlet silk.
"Faramir bade me request that you wear this." He said gravely. "It belonged to Boromir and was made for the ceremony when he was promoted to Captain General of the Armies of Gondor. He wore it only once, but it is a garment fit for a king."
Aragorn smiled sadly. "It is beautiful." He said." I will be honoured to wear it."
The King and Princes, who were serving as Aragorn's attendants stood back and surveyed the results of their handiwork.
"You look magnificent, my friend!" Eomer exclaimed." A true King!"
Imrahil nodded agreement.
"Something is missing!" exclaimed Legolas. "Your hair should be braided in honour of Luthien, your elven ancestress! Will you permit me to do it? "
Aragorn nodded and the Elf set to work, while Eomer and Imrahil looked on bemused.
When it was done, Eomer girded Anduril at Aragorn's side and the King was almost ready to depart, but first he had farewells to make.
TBC