Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or places in this story that are the property of J. R. R. Tolkien. I just love them. I do own a few of the characters that appear in this story, however.
Medical Disclaimer: no treatment or diagnosis is described within this text. All injuries, sicknesses and cures are the product of my imagination or what best fits the story.
QueenofFlarmphgal: Aragorn awake, what a novel idea eh? He will be awake for most of the rest of the story. The tide is turning!
Caracandal: Thanks for your encouragement sis. Here's some more procrastination material for you. Good luck on the midterms. Of course you may peek at the next chapter, provided you beta! hugs
Glossary Muinthel-sister; Ada-father
"No! No, I won't go! She needs me! Ada, no! Please! Muinthel, don't leave us! I wont let you! No! No!"
Aragorn woke with a start, sending shooting pains through his side and arm. He blinked sleep from his eyes and tried to see who was crying. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light from the fire and the thin sunlight filtering through the curtains.
"Tithen!" he shouted as he realized that he couldn't get out of the chair to wake her. He was still weak from his wounds and Tithen had done a very efficient job imprisoning him in the chair by stuffing the blankets into the cushions. He watched helplessly as the young woman struggled with someone or something in her dream, trapped by the nightmare as he was by the blankets.
"Tithen! Wake up! You're dreaming! Wake up! Tithen!" he shouted at her as she continued to cry out and sob, "No, no! Muinthel! No!"
"Tithen!" he shouted as loudly as he could, his chest wound protesting as he filled his lungs with air, pulling at the stitches. Suddenly, Tithen sat bolt upright, staring straight ahead, at nothing. Tears streamed down her face and her shoulders shook with silent sobs. She remained there for a moment, eyes wide with fright at something only she could see. Then the tension left her body as abruptly as it had come, and she slumped forward, pulling her knees towards her chest and resting her arms on them, letting her head hang down wearily.
Aragorn leaned forward slightly and began to work the blankets free. "Tithen?" he asked softly. She didn't move. "Tithen, what's the matter? What happened?"
Tithen snapped her head up, seeing him for the first time. She quickly started to wipe away her tears with the heel of her hand.
"Nothing, nothing's wrong, it was just a nightmare," she said, too rapidly for Aragorn to believe her. They both sat there for a moment, Tithen trying to eradicate any lingering signs of her distress and Aragorn trying to discern what it was that had caused the cold, stoic girl to break down her mask so completely.
"You know I'm going to get you for that," Tithen stated bluntly. Aragorn feigned innocence.
"What did I do?"
Tithen glared at him and stood, hands on hips. "You know what you did. You drugged my cocoa!"
"You were so tired, I wouldn't have needed to," Aragorn replied, trying to conceal the grin that threatened to break forth. "Besides, it was you who drugged mine."
"You needed to sleep, you stubborn ranger!"
"I'd been asleep for six days!"
"You mean delirious with fever!"
"That fact that I had a fever had nothing to do with it. You have a cough, and you haven't slept for six days."
"Not true," she said, turning her back on him to stoke the fire. "I hadn't slept in five days," she muttered quietly.
"One day does not make that much of a difference," countered Aragorn.
"So one more day without sleep wouldn't have done me any harm," Tithen replied coolly. "And, as punishment, you will have to eat the fruit stew for breakfast again. I was going to make a bread pudding last night, but since someone drugged me to sleep before dinner, I never got a chance to."
Aragorn broke into a grin. "Eating fruit and dumplings two days in a row is a small price to pay for seeing your face when you realized what I had done."
"Laugh while you can, ranger," Tithen warned ominously. "Just remember, I'm the one with access to all the herbs, and turn about is fair play."
Tithen stalked off to the kitchen, trying to ignore Aragorn's laughter, which floated after her. Just you wait, cheeky ranger, she thought.
Aragorn chuckled for a few moments after Tithen left, and let them die slowly, content with the pain it caused. He had so few chances to laugh, at anything, that it was worth a little agony to feel mirth bubble up and overflow, even at something as insignificant as her indignation at being caught asleep.
Or was it really a mask to cover something else? Aragorn turned this new possibility over in his mind. She was concealing something, like he would an injury. She had built a wall around herself, and every now and then, he would see a glimpse of what was inside through a small crack, quickly patched. He had seen something in her eyes, when she had mentioned the death of her father. Her nightmare was of something real, of that he was sure.
He was startled out of his speculations by a furry, warm body suddenly appearing in his lap and rubbing itself against his hands, accidentally sending red-hot pokers through his broken arm. He looked down, startled, at a ginger tabby cat, who returned his gaze with her large golden eyes. She tilted her head to one side, as though trying to decide whether or not she liked him.
"Hello puss," Aragorn murmured and stroked her silky ears with his good hand. The cat rubbed herself luxuriously against him, purring deeply. As abruptly as she had come, she leapt off his lap and streaked out of the room. Aragorn laughed. He should have known. Even if this hadn't been a farm, and all farms have cats, Tithen was the kind of person who enjoyed the company of cats.
Apparently, she enjoyed the company of multiple cats, he thought to himself as the tabby returned, bearing a small, tortoiseshell kitten in her mouth, which she gentle deposited in Aragorn's lap, and left again, only to return with another kitten, this one mottled black and white. The mother then leapt up onto the bed and curled up, watching how the man treated her children.
"Well well well, if she has taken a like to you, I shan't be able to seek my revenge just yet," Tithen commented coolly as she returned, bearing a loaded tray of covered dishes. "And, my friend, you got lucky. I had forgotten that I have a very full henhouse, and that hens lay eggs on a daily basis. Therefore, we are having scrambled eggs today, and not stew." Tithen sat on the bed and pulled the covers off the tray. "Do you think you can hold a plate on your lap?"
"I think I could, but…" Aragorn trailed off, motioning to the two kittens, which had curled themselves up contentedly in his lap. Tithen smiled and gently moved them to the side of the chair.
"There. Now," she said as she placed a dish of eggs on Aragorn's lap, a fork in his hand and began to eat her own breakfast, "I had intended to make split pea soup for lunch today, but I'm afraid that, for lunch at least, we're going to have to have chicken soup again. Sorry Estel," she said apologetically. "I'll make pea soup, just as soon as I remember, or find, which pantry I put all the dried peas in." She attacked an uncooperative piece of egg violently. "Stupid dried beans."
oxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Aragorn was back in bed, since Tithen had insisted, but this time, he had insisted he get there under his own power. He had almost made it. His strength gave out one step from the bed, and had Tithen not been watching him like a hawk, he would have fallen into the bed on his face, and his broken arm.
He was reading a book of lays. He had skimmed through some, which he knew nearly by heart, but was reading with interest one which he had not heard before. It told the tale of a man and his wife who came to Middle Earth with Elendil, escaping the fall of Numenor. He coughed, the lasting effects of the infection, and the book closed. He mumbled curses at the stiff leather binding softly, so as to not disturb the several cats and kittens that were taking their after lunch naps on his bed. He opened the front cover, and noticed for the first time that someone had written something on the first page. In a spidery hand, it read
For you, my love, my Luthien,
This book of lays, for my Tithen.
May one day our love be told
On pages yellowed, cracked and old.
On this day, when our love is sealed
This book I give, of loves revealed.
Be happy my love, until again you I see
And forever more, with you I'll be.
Caevudor
Aragorn stared at the attempt at poetry, and pondered this new information. This added another piece to the puzzle that was Tithen, but it also deepened the mystery. She had been in love, and she had been betrothed, to someone named Caevudor. From the date above the poem, he had given her this book four years prior. Four year engagements weren't unknown (as Aragorn knew full well), but they were a rarity among humans, and especially odd when the woman had no living family. They had not been married, and then she widowed, for she wore no wedding ring. Nor, did he think, they fall out of love, for then Tithen would have undoubtedly blotted out the love poem.
What had happened?
oxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
It was the next day, after lunch. Aragorn was resting in bed, very bored. He loved to read, but it was getting very dull, just lying in bed, using only one arm, and avoiding hitting his very sore chest and broken arm. He wanted to get up and walk around, but knew that it was foolish to do so alone, considering his previous attempt.
He closed the book he was reading and carefully reached for his saddlebag, which Tithen had placed over his headboard. He pulled it into his lap and started to rummage through it for his pipe and tobacco. It possibly wasn't the smartest idea to smoke, considering the lingering cough, but it was something to do. He heard Tithen coming down the hall and quickly stuffed pipe and pouch into his pocket. Most Southerners found the practice of smoking strange, to say the least.
Tithen walked into the room, munching on a raw carrot. Aragorn burst out laughing; the sight seemed rather absurd, for some reason.
"What?" Tithen asked, wondering why the man had abruptly burst into laughter when she had entered the room. She glanced at the bright orange root in her hand and realization dawned. She laughed and quickly ate the rest, so that her cheeks bulged like a chipmunks, which made Aragorn laugh even more. Tithen covered her face with her hand until her mouth was empty.
"I like eating raw carrots," she stated. "Besides, they're good for your eyes."
She came over and stood next to the bed, arms crossed, waiting for Aragorn to stop chuckling.
"Are we done laughing now?" she asked. Aragorn nodded, holding his side, which was not laughing. "Good. Now, I imagine that you are terribly sick of staying in this bloody (bloody being an expletive and not an adjective) bed, and that if I don't help you to get up and walk around soon, you will try it on your own. Am I right?"
"Perfectly," Aragorn replied, immediately shoving back the blankets, and carefully swinging his legs over the side.
"Whoa, slow down," Tithen cautioned, sitting next to him on the bed. "First things first. First, I am going to support you. Need I remind you what happened last time you tried this? Second, We're just going to walk to the door, and if, IF you are comfortable with it, down the hallway. There is a sitting room of sorts a few doors down. Thirdly," Tithen produced a small pillow from behind her back and tied it around her left side. "I'll put this on, so if I bump you, it will be a pillow, and not my bony ribs. Now, carefully, slide your arm over my shoulder, don't jerk the stitches." Tithen made sure that Aragorn had his arm firmly around her shoulders and then she wrapped her arm around his back and waist to support him. "Now, on the count of three, stand, SLOWLY! One, two, three!"
Gently, they rose in unison, and stood there for a moment. Aragorn closed his eyes and waited for the waves of pain and dizziness to fade. The dizziness abated, but did not disappear; the pain faded, but stilled let him know it was there. His legs felt weak and wobbly (he hated that word, but it was the only one that fit).
"Ready?" Tithen asked quietly, not wanting to rush Aragorn before he was steady and sure of himself. After a moment, he opened his eyes and nodded his head. "Alright then. One step at a time."
Step after shuffling, painful step, they made their way across the room towards the doorway. Tithen kept a firm grip around Aragorn's waist and laid her hand in support over his resting on her shoulder. Every now and then, he would gasp as the movement sent pain shooting through his wounds.
They came to the door way and the rested, Aragorn leaning heavily on Tithen. Tithen looked up at him, trying to judge whether he was fit to continue.
"You said the room was just down the hall?" Aragorn asked, panting slightly.
"Aye, about twenty feet to the right," Tithen answered. "Shall we?"
"Aye," Aragorn said determinedly, and they started off down the hall. After what seemed to be an eternity, and past several doors, Tithen guided him through an open door on the left and over to a large, comfortable looking couch by the fireplace. She eased him down and settled him back into the corner, lifting his legs up and covering him with a quilt. The quilt, Aragorn noted. The quilt her grandmother had made.
"Congratulations," Tithen said smiling. "You can walk. Would you like to stay here for a while?"
"Aye, I'd like that, a chance to stare at a different four walls for a change. Hey," he said as the ginger tabby jumped up next to him and promptly deposited one of her kittens in his lap. "Do you have them trained to sit on me? I don't mind, it's just…"
"Strange?" Tithen laughed as she stoked the fire. "I know. No, I don't train them. She just does that, though only with people she likes. She's a very good judge of character. She does strange things like that. Do you know what her name is?"
"No, I don't think you ever told me."
"Apricot."
"Apricot?" Aragorn repeated incredulously.
"Yep. The first thing she did after I found her was steal and eat an apricot turnover."
"You're joking."
"Nope," Tithen replied, rising and heading towards the door. "I'm going out to the kitchen for a moment. Can I get you anything?"
"No, thank you," Aragorn said, settling back against the cushions and petting the tiny kitten. "I'm fine. Oh, wait…" he said, drawing forth his pipe and tobacco. "Could I have a lit taper?"
"What for?" Tithen asked, confused. She had never seen anyone but Mithrandir smoke, and he never needed a taper to light his pipe.
"To light my pipe," Aragorn explained, hoping that she would not think him insane. Tithen shrugged.
"I suppose," she lit a taper from the fire and held it out to Aragorn, who lit his pipe and began to puff smoke from the end. "Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why smoke?"
Aragorn shrugged. "I don't really know. Gandalf introduced me to it. It gives one something to do in the wild-"
"It smells good."
"Hmm?"
Tithen threw another log onto the fire. "It smells good. Homey. Comforting, like, sitting around the hearth with family in the winter."
Aragorn laughed. "I suppose it does."
Tithen left to attend to things in the kitchen. She was terribly thankful that she had many dishes, but they had created quite a pile near the sink, and it was time to wash them. She liked to have things in order, and stacks of dirty dishes were not included in that order.
She set herself to washing the dishes, her hands growing red and sore as they alternated between the scalding hot water in the basin and the cold running water.
She had saved Estel. She had stopped the cough, kept him away from the darkness. She had not failed. Like she had twenty years ago. She had let her die. She had not saved her. She had failed. She could save a stranger, but she couldn't-
"Stop!" she screamed and slammed her fists into the dishpan, shattering a plate. "Not now! I have to concentrate. No one can know." She berated the small, nagging voice in the back of her mind, and thanked the Valar that Aragorn was half way across the house and incapable of coming to look for her. She would pay for her failure, but not now. After he had gone, when no one would stop her.
She quickly dried her hands and pasted a smile on her face. She couldn't let him know. He had already begun to suspect, and she couldn't let him see any more. She picked up a plate of pastries and headed back to the sitting room.
oxoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Aragorn had heard the shout, but he was powerless to find out what had caused it. He sat on the sofa, blowing smoke rings and stroking the silky fur ball on his lap, listening to the contented purring.
Tithen entered and handed him a pastry.
"Here," she said, sitting in a rocking chair and taking one for herself. "Eat. You must be hungry." Aragorn bit into the pastry. It was filled with fruit. He cast her a questioning glance. "In answer to your look, yes, it is the fruit stew. I cooked it down and made it into a pastry filling. I had to do something with it."
"If you're giving me a pastry now, does that mean that you will make scones soon and I'll learn about your strange name?" Aragorn asked, glancing over at her to see how she reacted. He had a feeling that there was something to the story of her name that troubled her. Tithen looked at her hands and a sad, troubled look came over her face.
"Soon," she said. "Soon. All will be made clear. All scores will be settled." The way she said it made Aragorn think that there was an underlying meaning, something ominous.
"Soon," she said.
A/N: Just thought I should let you know, there is NO CHILD ABUSE IN THIS STORY. What was she begging her father to stop? Well, you'll just have to wait and see. But there is no child abuse here. Also, for those of you who are snickering at the unlikely cat story, stop laughing. That tale is based on my own experience. The day we brought home our current cats, we left them alone in the kitchen with a steak and a bag of blueberry muffins while we went to do something. When we came back, they had torn open the bag and were eating the muffins. Go figure. Hope you enjoyed this chapter!