These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain
Du treulos treuster Freund! (You faithless, most faithful of friends!) -Wagner: Tristan und Isolde.
Warning – This chapter contains extreme angst and may distress some readers
I am reloading this chapter after accidentally replacing it with the previous one,my sincere apologies to readers.
His words caused her to burst into tears.
"Hush, Elbeth, or they will come!" he warned her gently.
"Can I come with you?" she asked, sniffing loudly and making a valiant effort to suppress her tears.
"One day you may, but not just yet." he answered gravely, "Can you remember something for me, little one? It is important"
"I'm not little!" she retorted indignantly, the tears forgotten, "I will be eight on my next birthday.
"You are old enough then to remember what I tell you." Aragorn replied. He would not have thought her older than four or five from her appearance, though her demeanour was far older than that of the average child. He supposed her harsh life with Hanna and her grandmother had caused her lack of inches, as he very much doubted they would have nourished her sufficiently.
"What do you want me to remember?" Elbeth asked impatiently, "I can't if you don't tell me!"
"If you are taken to see Prince Eldarion, you will see his mother, the Queen," Aragorn explained, "When no one else is listening, I want you to tell her this, that Estel loved her and Eldarion very much and that she must go with him to Rohan and take shelter with Eomer. Can you remember that and will you promise?"
"Yes I promise," Elbeth, said solemnly, " I don't want to meet Eldarion though!"
"He is just an infant, a beautiful little baby with a lovely smile and black curls. He should have cut his first tooth by now." Aragorn said wistfully, the tears starting to flow again at the thought of his son. Resolutely, he blinked them away. He was still the King and kings did not weep like infants in front of others!
"I brought you some bread and honey, wine the grown ups left and even a cake!" Elbeth announced, pulling the crumbling food out of the pockets of her robe She handed him a pewter goblet, which had seen better days.
He forced himself to eat but the slowly rising fever made the food taste like sawdust.
"You have the cake!" he told her.
She accepted gratefully and sat munching it while he finished the bread and drank the wine.
"I'd better go now," she said at last, stuffing the empty goblet in her pocket and picking up the candle. "Goodbye, Strider, I'll miss you!"
"I shall miss you too, Elbeth." he replied choking back the tears. "Wait, come here to me a moment!"
Puzzled, she obeyed, accustomed as she was to him urging her to leave quickly.
With a supreme effort, he lifted his hand and placed it on her dark head "Be thou blessed, Elbeth, may the years of thy life be long and happy!" Aragorn said solemnly.
Elbeth felt a sudden surge of something she could not describe. It was like being given a nice present only far better.
Her solemn grey eyes met the King's. "I wish you were my daddy!" she sniffed tearfully.
She took up her candle and with a last look at her mysterious friend; she was gone.
Alone again in the darkness, Aragorn tried to gather what little strength he had left to prepare to surrender the Gift when the new pain they planned to inflict on him became more than he could bear. He tried to reach out with his mind to bid Arwen farewell. However, even that effort proved too much and his thoughts drifted again towards Faramir wondering how, one he loved so much could have betrayed him so cruelly. He soon lapsed into unconsciousness as the fever rose within his tortured body.
The cock crowed, heralding dawn, and rousing Faramir from a few hours of uneasy sleep, which had been filled with nightmares. The waking reality though, was far worse than any horrors his unconscious mind could conjure up. The stench of burning flesh and the sound of Aragorn's agonised cry still seemed to linger in the air, causing nausea to well up inside him again.
Then there was the dreadful void within his soul as if half had been torn away leaving the remaining portion to soon shrivel and die.
He had lost the most beautiful experience he had ever known and with it become the lowest of the low. He was no longer worthy to be even called a man.
Yet he could not waste time dwelling on his unspeakable actions. Today was his last chance to save his King if he were not be even more cruelly humiliated and then slowly tortured to death.
He inwardly cursed himself for having slept after what he had done and when he should have been thinking of a way to rescue Aragorn.
No matter how many times he digested the facts and tried to come up with a better solution, it always eluded him. There seemed to be no way that he could rescue Aragorn from his captors, as not only would he have to smuggle him out undetected, but also get the keys to unlock his chains and he had no idea where they might be, although he suspected they were perhaps attached to Lord Lamedon's belt for safekeeping.
Only one way to spare Aragorn remained; and that was almost too horrible to contemplate.
It seemed now the only help he could offer his friend was to grant him a swift and merciful death.
Sweating heavily, Faramir fingered his dagger and wondered however could he bring himself to plunge it deep into his beloved King's heart
He sat up in bed, and tried and tried to think of some other way. There was none. He could not hope to overpower them all and was certain if he escaped and tried to fetch help, they would do their worst to Aragorn before he could return with troops.
When a few months ago, he believed he had accidentally killed Eomer, that seemed to be the worst crime imaginable, but killing Aragorn would be immeasurably worse. Not only was he the High King, but also the saviour and restorer of Gondor and more than that, Faramir's best and most loved friend who had saved his life and given him everything his father had not.
The Steward got out of bed and dressed quickly, determined to do the dreadful deed before his courage failed. He had no doubt that they would first carry out Hanna's suggestion followed by every cruel and slow torture they could think of until crazed by pain Aragorn would either sign the document commanding the marriage of Eldarion and Elbeth, or more likely will his own death to prevent endangering those he loved.
After sharpening his dagger, Faramir took up a candle and made his way to the cellar where Aragorn was imprisoned. No one challenged him and even if they had done, he was certain he could have easily convinced them that he was having another attempt at persuading the King to sign the document.
The door was unlocked, since there was no way a chained man could escape and Faramir quietly slipped inside.
To his relief, Aragorn was asleep. He drew his dagger and prepared to strike, weighing up how to do it as quickly and painlessly as possible.
Instead, he found himself studying the ravaged, yet still noble features of the friend he had loved ever since their first meeting, when Aragorn had brought him back from the very brink of death.
Memories flashed before him; the day of the coronation, when to his amazement Aragorn had returned the White Rod to him, the King's many attempts to treat his injuries, which he had been too afraid to accept, the kindness so freely given, the time at the Hunting Lodge, when he had lost his nervousness when faced with the greater fear that Aragorn might die, the months when Aragorn had painstakingly nursed him back to health and saved the life of his baby daughter.
How could he kill the man who had done all this for him and yet what other choice did he have?
He would plunge the dagger through Aragorn's heart and then though, much as he desired to die too, endeavour to escape and return to Arwen and submit to whatever death she decreed for him, once he had ensured that Eowyn and Elestelle were safe in Rohan and Eldarion out of the clutches of these monsters.
He knew he should linger no longer, or his resolve would fail.
Yet, he could not deal the fatal blow without a farewell kiss of blessing to one he loved as father, brother, friend, mentor and lord.
Careful not to rouse Aragorn, Faramir knelt beside and murmured, "Farewell dear friend and noblest of Kings! I do this deed not out of hate but from the depths of the love that I bear you and hope beyond the circles of the world that you will know just how much I loved and admired you."
Choking back his tears of grief and horror at what he was about to do, he gently kissed the King's brow. He knew he would never see him again, not even beyond death, as surely he would be cursed to wander forever without rest like the oath breakers who betrayed Isildur.
Aragorn's brow was burning hot with fever. Faramir wavered, wondering if maybe the King was on the verge of dying swiftly and naturally from the Fever, before dismissing the thought .The blood and pus stained shirt he was wearing obviously hid many wounds, an infection from which was causing his fever, especially as his eyes and nose were not red and running, which was the main symptom of the infection ravaging Gondor. Wound fever was serious but victims often recovered and even if not, it took several days or longer to kill.
Grasping the dagger firmly and trying to stop his hand shaking, he prepared to strike.
"I am sorry!" he whispered, "so very sorry! Much rather would I pierce my own heart than yours!"
TBC
A/N A very big thank you for all your much appreciated reviews and comments and especially Steelelf's beautiful poem, which deserves a page to itself. I hope all my readers will check it out on my reviews page.
My quote for tonight is what I would have liked as a title for this story but feared only my German readers would understand it. I know I have readers from Germany, France, Hungary, Sweden, the Ukraine, India, The USA, the UK and Australia. Have I missed any countries? I am thrilled so many different nationalities are enjoying my story.
I hesitated whether or not to update tonight, as so many stories are being updated after the site problems, but your requests decided me to do so.
I am pleased you are finding the story both horrifying and compelling as that was my idea !
I fear you will have to wait and see if more torture is to come or not!