16. Healing Arwen
Aragorn continued to run along up the steep tunnel with the ever-growing sense of peace that Arwen was okay. He now truly realised how much he had missed her, and as every moment past he was filled with more and more arousing love for her. The fact that she was hurt made no change at all to the view of her, in fact it made him crave her even more. She was still beautiful, more beautiful than before, and though she had been wounded and splashed with blood when he had last been able to see her, her fair face still stirred his passion in a very seducing manner.
But as Aragorn was running along, he became aware that Arwen was crying. At first he couldn't believe it, for it was also quiet, muffled and hidden, but then her sobs became louder as she shifted more in his arms. Her breaths were suddenly all jumpy and she was struggling to breath, and certainly not succeeding in her attempt to hide the fact she was crying. He was afraid he was hurting her somehow, the movement of his body pressing against hers tearing at the gash on her tummy, or digging at a bruise elsewhere. In the tunnel he did not want to stop, for fear that the orcs may just somehow break back after him. But he could not ignore Arwen any longer, something was badly wrong and her tears were concerning him.
Still checking that there were no sounds behind him, Aragorn slowed down and came to a stand still. The soft material of Arwen's cloak over them both fluttered against his cheek as he breathed heavily, merely listening to the sound of Arwen sobbing at his chest. Then he gently lowered her down and laid her on the hard ground, trying to avoid the rockiest places. He couldn't see anything in the pitch blackness, but he felt Arwen's tight hold onto the collar of his shirt as he tried to sit up above her body. He delicately placed his fingers over hers, nudging them away so that he wasn't being choked, but she suddenly burst out into more violent tears and Aragorn began to hear she was trying to call him.
"Estel… Estel…" He leant in closer, trying to judge where her face was without crashing into her. Hot breath started to wash over him, and he realised he was very near when he could hear the droplets of her tears falling off her cheekbone and onto the floor.
"Arwen? Meleth nín, what's wrong?" Carefully he brought up a hand and his fingertips touched her cheek, damp and warm, water running over the smooth surface onto his hand, and trickling down his wrist. He could sense how great her distress was just in the way she was breathing, and how her hand reached up to his head, running her fingers through his silky hair as she pulled him closer. Suddenly she gave a hiccup and then Aragorn felt her body tremble beneath him as she cried out helplessly.
He called her name, but she was just finding it difficult to respond to him. Aragorn moved inwards and brushed noses with her, showing her he was there for her, always with her. Immediately she softened at this gesture and she managed to have little breaks between her deep breaths.
Then she whispered to him again, in her hushed voice, speaking as much as she could. Her words flipped over each other, rushing as she tried to breathe quickly.
"Estel; I'm so sorry…" She moaned and hugged him closer, resting her closed eyelids against his shoulder, squeezing the tears down his tough leather clothing. Aragorn held her fragile body to him, soothingly stroking her soft head and rubbing her back in circles. Her words became hidden as she pressed against his chest and her tears prevented her from saying anything. But Aragorn felt her shaking still as his hands ran over her body.
"Arwen, there is nothing for me to forgive. Please," he lifted her head off his shoulder and heard her sniff as she tried to see his face through the darkness. "…don't cry…" He smiled reassuringly, forgetting that she could not see him. But her distress was so confusing; it didn't make any sense.
Instantly she leant forward, crying to him again. "Estel, I'm so sorry…" He felt her head brush under his chin as she looked down him. "I didn't mean for this to happen…"
"Arwen, meleth nín," Aragorn whispered. "My Evenstar, don't worry… shhh," he slowly brought up a hand and wiped her cheeks dry of tears, sensing his way extra carefully without seeing where she was. "Arwen, it wasn't your fault what happened, it was-"
"It was mine," she sobbed, moaning through more floods of tears, drenching her face again. "It was mine, Estel… I'm so –hic– sorry…" She pulled herself against his body, rubbing her face against his clothes as if in yearning for his scent to be on her. Aragorn sighed gently and entwined her hair round his fingers.
"I should never have been watching you, Arwen. You were bound to turn round. It was my fault."
"Nooooooo…" Arwen whimpered, wiping her eyes as she cuddled closer to him. "Estel, I should never have come. I should never have thought-"
"Arwen, you were right to think that."
A silence fell around them. The encircling black darkness seemed to get blacker. Arwen stopped crying and paused, Aragorn sensing her look up at him. His heart began to beat very quickly in his chest and he felt a great desire within him to kiss her.
"You, you – you…" Arwen stuttered. As her damp fingers landed on his bare neck Aragorn felt a shiver go throughout his body. Softly he smiled, caressing her face in his hand.
"You," she took an unsure breath. "You – you should have left me in there. I am so stupid, I am worthless, pointless. Estel, you should never have…"
"Arwen, don't say that," he whispered to her quietly. She sighed deeply as he ran two fingers down her cheek and over her wet lips. "Arwen, you have never done anything so right. Arwen, I-" He stopped, not knowing quite how to say what he felt. Immediately as his words ended abruptly he sensed Arwen's keen gaze thicken on him.
"What, Estel?" she murmured, touching his forehead lightly with her fingertips. "Estel?" Aragorn heard her breathing get faster and deeper, her breath rippling over his face as she moved closer.
Suddenly, before he knew what he was doing, he found himself kissing her full on the lips, pressing powerfully to her yet tenderly moving in her sweet flavour. It had been too long, far too long since he had done this. So wonderful, so breathtaking, so brilliant…
Arwen moaned passionately as he slipped his tongue inside her mouth, hers sliding round as she entered his. She pulled him closer and closer, collapsing back on the ground and sighing with gentle pleasure. The gorgeous sensations washed everything away, and as he quickly took a breath, Arwen brought him immediately back down with far more strength than he had thought she had.
And before he realised it she was massaging his tongue, running over the ticklish roof of his mouth, rubbing her salty-wet lips easily and in much fervour over his. It was heaven, more than heaven, the best dream ever to be with Arwen like this again. Just smiling at her while he leant over her, her supple fingers feeling his rough chin, this was enough. This was all he needed, this was his heart's desire and more, this was endless happiness.
Aragorn heard her softly take a breath. "Estel?"
"Mmmm?" he replied, fondling a ribbon of her hair in his fingers. Arwen sighed, a tiny quiet sigh, and drew closer, almost touching his face.
"I love you…" she whispered. Aragorn smiled, feeling the brush of her eyelashes over his cheeks.
"I will always love you, Arwen," he said in a low voice. "I will do anything for you." She leant against his chest, her hand resting on his bare collar bone where she had tugged the shirt away. They sat there together for a moment, Aragorn listening to her silent breathing, her peacefulness. After a while he was not even sure if she was awake. So he softly folded his arms under her small body, shook the twilight cloak over them both, and smoothly began to carry her out of the tunnel.
From there to the entrance of the Nhaxûn orcs' cave it was not far, and when Aragorn gratefully walked out into the white world of snow he could still taste the salty flavour of Arwen's tears on his lips. It was late evening now, and above in the sky he could see many twinkling stars where the thin wispy clouds were not drifting.
He could feel Arwen's chest rising and falling steadily against his as she slept in a light slumber, but probably the best she had had for a long while. He found it fairly amazing how light she was as he held her, his arms not at all tired while his legs were aching quite a lot. But Aragorn still carried her easily down the slope, passing through the battle-field on which they had been struggling earlier on.
Yet now the land was all snow-sprinkled again and not the dirty grey it had been left as. Under the night sky the snow appeared as a silvery-blue colour, magical and pleasing to the eyes. Aragorn found looking around himself easy, not because Arwen's cloak was still over them both, but because the bright white moon was shining down on the mountain, unhidden by the thin clouds. The snow was glistening beautifully, the peak a new place now that it had been refreshed by the snowflakes, which were still gently tumbling down upon his shoulders.
Aragorn hurried down the twisting path, finally coming out to where the ground levelled off in the deep snow. He reached the place where they had camped before and stopped, except this again looked a different place in the perfect light. He looked down at Arwen, lying in his arms, her eyes closed and her smooth fingers clinging onto the collar of his shirt. Smiling at her subconscious ease, he tugged the twilight cloak off them and, having made a small hollow in the snow with his foot, he laid the cloak down.
Then slowly he lowered Arwen's fragile body to the ground, kneeling on the hem of the cloak as he prised her fingers off his clothing. She moaned as if in a dream, very reluctant to let go, and so in the end Aragorn gave her a kiss on her forehead which immediately made her go floppy and limp.
Aragorn stood up and then quickly set about building a fire. The main thing for him to do was to keep Arwen warm; otherwise there would really be no hope. He also needed to carefully wash her deep sword-cut and make her his drink from some of the Coilas leaves, so that she would feel no more pain.
Placing some twigs from his pack in a wigwam shape he managed to strike a fire amidst the icy snow. Whilst it heated up and grew bigger he began to put up his tent close by, doing it very fast. He always made sure he could count to 100 as he did it, and then by 99 he would be finished, and on the last number he would stand back and survey his work. The snowfall made it a little tricky as the flakes tumbled into his eyes but it was so light that the tent was not weighed down heavily at all, and at the end only had a sparkling dusting over the surface.
Rushing back to the campfire, Aragorn took out a flask of water, pouring it into a bowl from his rucksack, and taking it to the now-fierce heat of the flames. As the water warmed up he watched Arwen as she lay sleepily on the cloak, her tender stomach exposed as she was gingerly curled up. It clearly was painful, and even now a trickle of bright red blood was squeezing through her body's attempt of a scab. She hadn't really healed at all.
He sighed and looked back at the bowl of water. It felt hot in his hands and so he took it away, pouring half of the water into a cup, filling up to just below the brim. Then he crumpled up some of his Coilas leaves and dropped them into the clear liquid. Immediately the surface steamed and a sweet, soothing smell wafted up. Aragorn paused, and then added a few more, deciding that it had better be quite strong so that Arwen could have some rest.
Whilst he swirled the water and Coilas essence he shifted over to Arwen nearby, the glow of the fire flickering on her pale face. Already the thick shadows created by the fire were tight around them, leaving a strange island-like feeling. Aragorn gently lifted up her light body and cuddled her in his lap as he sat back down on the dark blue cloth. Arwen let out a small sigh and drew closer to his chest, her hands creeping up his jacket again. He smiled, brushing her raven hair off her face and tipping up her chin.
Then he placed the rim of the cup to her lips, gradually tipping it up so that the warm liquid ran over her lips and turned them a deeper colour. Parting her lips in response, she started to drink the strong Coilas mixture, Aragorn stroking her silken head fondly. He needed the effect of the leaves to work on her before he tried to heal her cut, otherwise it would sting her dreadfully. Arwen continued struggling to swallow, her eyes still shut tiredly and her fingers entwined round a stray lock of his hazel hair.
Suddenly Arwen fell still and the empty cup fell from her hands onto the cloak. Aragorn knew that the Coilas leaves had taken their full effect and had now sent Arwen into a very deep sleep. She would awake again before too long, but the numbing of the leaves would continue to work for quite a few hours.
Reaching out, Aragorn dragged the half-full bowl of still steaming hot water next to him. Keeping Arwen on his lap he searched in his pockets, taking out his leather pouch of athelas and laying it on a blanket. Then he lifted Arwen up gently, moving gradually out from underneath her body and softly laying her down in the warm, cosy hollow which he had created. She gave a little sigh as her head fell to one side, but other than that she was still and silent.
Aragorn knelt beside her, still only two feet from the burning fire. Opening his pouch he bruised some of the rich leaves in his fingertips, casting them into the balmy water while flowery-scented oil ran down his fingers. The liquid swirled into a silver colour, and then calmed down after a few seconds. Aragorn dipped a white cloth into the bowl, soaking it completely as he left it there for a minute.
In the meantime he turned to Arwen's stomach, now really just a horrible bloody mess he needed to clean up. He cautiously touched the tender area, slowly pulling away the ripped material of her velvet dress. At first the strong stain prevented him from seeing but then he found that she was also wearing shift underneath, torn as well. Around all sides of her wound he turned over the material of her dress, leaving the cut a clear space encircling it.
Now he lifted the saturated cloth out of the warm liquid and lightly rinsed it out in his hands, the water dripping back into the bowl. While there was still a lot left in the fabric he brought it over above Arwen, a few more drops falling down onto her. Then, watching intently, he delicately dabbed the wet cloth upon her hurt tummy, gently wiping away the dried blood over her skin. He had to keep on washing the little handkerchief, but after some hard work and long minutes, the flesh around the red gash became cleaned and a pale colour again. Aragorn could now see the full extent of what the orc's sword had done to her.
The blade had cut deeply into the left side of her stomach, going into her soft flesh about three centimetres down. It stretched across the length of one corner of his palm to the other, and at each end the tissue was still being torn further apart. Aragorn worked his way steadily inwards and then carefully started to wash the cut, turning the cloth a browny shade. Arwen was very tender around there, and almost as soon as he had begun fresh crimson blood began to squeeze out again.
Aragorn sighed in quiet frustration. He continued to cleanse the cut, wiping out all the rejected blood and her body's attempt at healing. There was no way he was going to risk her getting infected there, so he repeatedly rinsed out the cloth, until Aragorn was sure Arwen's wound was completely clean.
Then he left the handkerchief in the bowl, and instead took some of the dark green leaves into his hands. Vigilantly he brought them over to her exposed tummy, looking much better for what he had done to her. Aragorn gently pressed the leaves one by one into the sore cut, crushing them as he did so, not wasting any of the precious oil within the plant. He placed them all along her gash, lovingly stroking the raw edges of it as he did so. Even as he did this Aragorn seemed to note some change in her there, the stomach muscles relaxing and the wound seeming rather vulnerable to his touch.
Aragorn next searched in his backpack for some more cloths. He drew out some very soft white ones, perfectly clean and untouched. As he glanced back at Arwen's bare stomach he saw a large snowflake winding its way down towards her hurt and just before it landed he blew it away, sending it spinning off into the air. Then Aragorn spread out his bandages over her tummy, gently pressing it down over her extremely soft skin. He was lucky that the athelas also stemmed the flow of her blood and did not seep through onto his new dressing. Aragorn began to wrap it around her waist, tucking it underneath her slim body and pulling up the end from the other side of the hole in her dress. It was so big that it didn't really matter he was doing this; he was not going to do it any other way and he was not ripping it even more either.
Finally Aragorn thought he had enough strips of cloth around her stomach, and so he folded the ends together, doing flat knots to tie them on but not be in the way when Arwen awoke. It took some skill to do that, for otherwise the bindings would just fall off, but Aragorn managed to make them stay together really well, and by the end it was merely one smooth white surface. He smiled to himself as he lightly pulled the frayed edges of Arwen's now clean but damp dress back over the hems, somehow with a great hole still in the middle. The soft material of her bandages showed through, but as Aragorn rubbed them gently and soothingly he knew Arwen would be fine with it like that.
He looked up at Arwen's face, thinking that he should lay her in their tent so as to keep her warm. Then he saw that she was watching him sleepily, a dreamy expression in her tender azure eyes. Smiling lovingly he leant over her healed body, his face coming rather close to hers. Her lips curved up in a content smile, but rather seducing too Aragorn thought, and she sighed as their eyes met. Aragorn was not quite sure whether the Coilas leaves had had rather more effect than he had expected, or if Arwen really was looking at him like this of her own accord; but he had a sneaky feeling it was something more than weeds working here.
Arwen gazed up at him, her long eyelashes framing her deep eyes beautifully. "Thank you," she whispered, slowly bringing up one hand to stroke his chin. Aragorn smiled gently in return and flicked his eyes all over her face, trying to take in all her beauty at once.
"What for, meleth nín?" he asked her, his eyes momentarily resting on her lips. In silent reply Arwen laid her fingers lightly on her bandaged tummy, only being able to feel it and not see it at this angle. But she also placed a little pressure on his neck, bringing him closer again.
"For everything, Estel…" she murmured, the strange look in her eyes making her appear almost childlike and innocent, showing her adoration for him. Aragorn softly put a kiss to her lips, halting her words. As he broke away he noticed Arwen's eyes flicker around his face, a growing hunger suddenly there. A snowflake fell down and rested on Arwen's cheek, icy and cool, before it sleekly melted and ran down her rosy skin.
Aragorn took himself away from Arwen's meaningful stare and sat up, realising just how cold it really was out there. Smiling reassuringly at her he hurriedly bundled his belongings back into his rucksack, folding up his pouch of athelas and sliding it into his jacket.
Then he effortlessly scooped up Arwen's body and carried her to the tent, kneeling down and resting her on the soft blankets lying on the floor. He pulled his bag inside and took a twig from the campfire, able to light a small lantern in the looming darkness. Once back inside the tent he fastened the door-flap shut, keeping out the unwelcoming breeze.
Shyly he looked at Arwen, who was just relaxing next to him; yet he thought there was something rather more implying in the way she laid. He began to pull out more blankets, fleecy cream-coloured ones which were delightfully warm and cosy to sleep in. He tugged his shoes off and shoved them into a corner with his rucksack. But with his every single movement he felt Arwen's heated stare on him, burning all over his body, focusing on his face; and then finally he could bear it no longer.
He turned round to face Arwen.
