I don't know if anyone has been reading this story (there certainly haven't been any reviews on it) but I enjoyed writing it so I figured I'd update. This chapter was the one inspired by Phil Collins' song and was originally the first chapter. The next chapter is where the plot, or whatever, actually begins. But I'm probably confusing you, so here it is, chapter three.
Disclaimer, I don't own anything, well, certainly not Middle Earth or anyone therein and that's what matters, so don't sue.
A week went by before Aragorn was able to fulfill his resolution. He crammed as much as possible into a very busy morning and then ate a quick lunch. He then sought out Faramir.
Aragorn told him, "I am going on a walk. You have the authority and experience to handle most crises that arrive, so I'm leaving you in charge for a few hours."
The steward was rather unhappy when he discovered what the king intended. "But my liege, are you going to take your guards with you?" He suspected he knew the answer.
"No, the king isn't out for a stroll, but Strider will be out and about." He grinned at Faramir and said, "Don't worry, I served your grandfather many years ago here. I'll be fine." His face grew serious again. "Yes…I do know this city, in all its glory and all its ugliness. There are problems festering in the lower districts. There always have been and I couldn't do much about them as Thorongil so I hope I have better luck as Elessar but first Strider must uncover the problems." He grinned again at Faramir's reaction to his names. "There're more you know. Estel, Dunadan, Longshanks…"
But the steward shook his head. "It's not that. You're Thorongil? You're still famous here for defeating the corsairs. Not the Father told me." His face darkened. "Some of the older guards told me tales not long after I started my real sword training in my teens. One of them was there with you when you went to Umbar. After I heard about you, you became my hero." He blushed and then smiled mischievously. "Old man!"
Aragorn laughed. "Technically true, but I can still trounce you any day. I'll probably be back by supper."
He went to his suite to change into the clothes he had worn while traveling with the fellowship but left behind the Lorien cloak. That would have made him too conspicuous. He strapped Anduril to his back in a scabbard he had taken from the armory's pile of things to be repaired. He had repaired it himself, taking care to remove all ornamentation.
Thus equipped, he reached into the furthest corner of his large closet and drew out a box. Inside were a ragged cloak and an earthen bottle. He drew the cloak around his shoulders and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. Exhaling, he pushed away his royal manners and tried to put himself back into character as the Ranger he had been, and still was at heart. Finally, he picked up the bottle and went over to the mirror, where he withdrew the stopper and poured some of the contents into his hand. It was a dark brown liquid, smelling faintly of alcohol and walnut, and he splashed it onto his face carefully. When he looked up, he was no longer a regal figure, but a scruffy, weatherworn swordsman whom few would trust on sight.
With a grim smile, he hid the box once more and then shuddered. He had forgotten one minor detail, how to get out of the royal apartments without being thrown into prison. He was briefly amused at the thought but finally decided the only thing to do was to climb out the window. It was something he had a great deal of experience in, starting from when he was a young boy growing up in Imladris. He wnet to his window and looked out cautiously. He waited until he was completely sure no one was looking and then dropped some twenty or so feet to the ground with a thud.
He landed with his knees flexed and on the balls of his feet, rather proud that he had not lost all of his ability. He then sneaked past all the guards of the first few levels, rather disgusted at how easy it was. Making a mental note to speak with the captain of the guard about it, he dropped his stealthy manner as he stepped out of the alleyway. As he joined the crowd of people, he headed ever lower, sometimes going between more alleys until he was in the poorest section of the city. It had actually not been evacuated during the war because Denethor had reckoned it would take more effort than it was worth.
She called out to the man on the street
"Sir can you help me? It's cold and I've nowhere to sleep
Is there somewhere you can tell me?"
He walks on, doesn't look back, he pretends he can't hear her
Starts to whistle as he crosses the street
Seems embarrassed to be there
Oh, think twice, it's just another day for you and me in paradise
Oh, think twice, it's just another day for you, you and me in paradise
She calls out to the man on the street
He can see that she's been crying
She's got blisters on the soles of her feet
She can't walk but she's trying
Oh, think twice, it's just another day for you and me in paradise
Oh, think twice, it's just another day for you, you and me in paradise
She calls out to the man on the street
He can see that she's been there
Probably been moved on from every place
'Cause she didn't fit in there
Oh, think twice, it's just another day for you and me in paradise
Oh, think twice, it's just another day for you, you and me in paradise
Trying to conceal his bitterness toward the former Steward, Strider looked around him. There were young women sitting leaning against the dismal buildings, staring vacantly into the air. Gaunt children sat by the gutter without the energy for childish pursuits. Men argued with each other, and once he heard a slap as some husband somewhere in this miserable place abused his wife.
Feeling sick, Aragorn walked along, trying to look purposeful and dangerous. His resolve not to take immediate action wavered as he saw one woman try to nurse a weak baby, but she had no milk. She looked up mutely and caught his eye, but immediately blushed under his penetrating gaze.
Giving in to his soft heart, he went to this woman and crouched beside her, noting bruises on her face and arms. "Lady," he said, "how long has it been since the child was able to feed?"
She mumbled something that sounded like, "Two days."
He blanched and got to his feet. "Come with me." He ordered. Taking her arm gently, he pulled her up and brought her along behind with for a few paces. Then he stopped abruptly. "Do you have any other children?" He demanded in a gruff voice as he tried to hold in tears at this woman's plight.
"One. He's a couple of years old, has never walked." She said softly.
"Show me." He followed her to a rough hovel and found lying there a little boy, whose eyes were closed, and whose breaths were shallow. He tenderly gathered up the child, who weighed fifteen pounds, if that, and walked back out, only to run into a mean looking man who carried a cudgel in his right hand.
The man snarled at him. "What do you think yer doin with my woman and kids. Not that they're worth much."
Aragorn glared at the man in loathing and said, "Taking them somewhere you'll never be able to touch them again." The other man raised his cudgel but Aragorn, making sure the child was settled in his left arm, drew his sword, and smacked the man's arm with the flat of the blade. There was a sickening crack and the arm broke, because the man was not much healthier than his family. Realizing this, Aragorn sheathed his sword and said. "Peace. I am taking them somewhere that they might live a full life. If you like, you may come and have your arm seen to. If not, step aside and let us go. The choice is yours."
The man's eyes lost their hatred, which had masked a deep despair. "I'm coming. But I'll kill you if you harm any of them."
Strider smiled slightly but said, "Come along then." He led the way, cradling his too light burden with care. Right before they reached the more populated area, he stopped. He took a corner of the already stained cloak and used it to wipe off what he could of the brown layer concealing his true features. Then he stepped forward again, once more taking the woman's arm so they wouldn't be separated in the crowd.
Up and up he led them until at last they reached the gates to the citadel. "Halt!" ordered one of the guards as the two men on duty crossed their spears in front of his path. "State your business."
"I am going to the Houses of Healing."
The guard snorted, "What makes you think they have time for your kind?"
There might have been trouble then if the captain of the guard had not come along and overheard. "There'll be none of that!" The guards snapped to attention. The captain looked at Aragorn and blanched as he recognized the king, having seen Strider when he first arrived with the Grey Company. Strider winced and shook his head slightly. Giving him a queer look, the captain silently acquiesced. Now see here, the Houses of Healing are open to everyone, so stand aside! Now if you would kindly follow me," he added, "I will take you to the Healers."
Aragorn followed, thankful that he hadn't been given away. Once they were out of earshot of the guards, however, the captain said quietly, "I apologize, your Majesty, I will see to it that they are replaced immediately."
"Thank you," The king replied just as softly. "This will not be the last time I make such an entrance, but as you said, there is no reason to be rude to anyone seeking entrance, especially to the healers. I will explain everything later, though." They continued the rest of the way in silence.
The healers were appalled. The condition of the family was shockingly horrible, but so were the dark blotches on the king's face. They immediately recognized him of course, because he had spent a great deal of time among them helping out. The couple and their children were taken away, but the Warden exclaimed, "My Lord! You seem to have caught some disease!"
Glancing at his reflection in a window, Aragorn shook with laughter, because he knew that otherwise he would burst into tears. "It is nothing soap and water can't cure, my good man. And I'd better take my cure before I go on up or I will be unable to get in."
He washed his face thoroughly and removed the cloak, which he folded up neatly. It was nearly suppertime, so he took his leave of the warden then, making him promise to keep him updated on the new patients.
The guard outside the apartment door looked very confused to see the king approach since he had been unaware that his charge had left. True to his training though, he kept his mouth shut and opened the door. Inside, Elessar saw his queen, dressed for supper, sitting on the window seat by the open window he had used to leave.
She turned toward him with raised eyebrows. "Have fun in the city today? I asked Faramir and he said you went on a walk as Strider." Then she read his face. "Beloved? What is the matter?"
Stumbling forward, his face crumpled and he was wracked with sobs. "It-it was h-horrible!" She came to him and steered him to the bed, where he dropped ungracefully with his face in his hands. Arwen held him tightly without a word, though his tears were staining her silk dress. He finally pulled himself together and managed to explain. "I found a family. They were all so thin. The woman hadn't been able to nurse her baby in two days and her older child was so light." He gulped and accepted a handkerchief but his hands were shaking too much so she had to wipe his face for him. "I brought them up to the Healers of course but there are so many more who need help."
He raised his head and saw by the sun that it was only a few minutes until they would need to go down for supper. Smiling shakily at his wife, he said, "Hannon le." He stood up, went to the closet, and quickly stripped. Then he grabbed a formal robe and donned it. Finally, he went to the mirror, wincing at the natural blotches of his face, caused by the tears. He splashed water from a basin and soon cleaned away the last evidence of his weeping.
Aragorn turned to Arwen and noticed tearstains on the shoulder of her gown, causing him to grimace. He went to her closet and found a shawl for her since it was too late for her to change. Arm in arm, they walked to the door, which he rapped upon. It opened and they stepped into the hall, where they were immediately flanked by guards. They went to the large dining hall where the monarchs ate with the envoys from other territories at the highest table, while at lower tables sat the off duty guardsmen and servants.
Aragorn made small talk with the dignitary from Dol Amroth. A small, almost inaudiable, sigh of relief escaped, however, when the meal was finally over. Arwen's sharp ears caught it though, and he received a sharp elbow in the ribs as they walked out together. When they got back to their bedroom, they swiftly changed into more casual clothes and went to the House of Healing to check on the progress of the family.
The warden met them at the door, having expected them, and led their Majesties to the room all four were being treated in. Arwen gasped at the appearance of the children and rushed over to pick up the scrawny two-year-old while Aragorn held the month old girl. She already looked better as a result of being fed and bathed. The boy, he knew, would need a lot more time to make up for the early starvation.
The mother looked at him and gasped in shock as he realized who he was. He reassured her that they would be fine, but she started again as she put Strider's voice together with Elessar's face. She attempted to rise, but he held her down and said, "When you are well, Lady, we will see to finding you a job. Perhaps you can try your hand as a seamstress or healer, and once your husband is healed, he can see about joining the Guard." She stuttered her thanks and her eyes fluttered shut involuntarily as sleep overcame her.
Weeks went by as they recovered. The King and Queen frequently went down to see them and hold the children, who were steadily gaining weight. The boy began to crawl and then walk and talk as his muscles finally developed. Everyone was relieved that there was no permanent damage. The tiny girl began to smile and carry on the normal functions of examining toes and pulling other people's hair. And life carried on in Gondor.
TBC
Okay, I know I didn't give any names but I was utterly clueless about what to call anyone. Just so you know, the theme is the important thing to the chapter; the next chapter is where my plot bunny really attacked. It'll be up eventually, sooner if anyone reviews, hint, hint.