These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain
They have prepared a net for my steps;
my soul is bowed down:
they have digged a pit before me,
into the midst whereof they are fallen themselves. - Psalm 57.6. The Bible.
Faramir went outside. No trace of the snow now remained but it was still cold .A thick mist rose off the river and shrouded the surrounding hills. It was not the most pleasant weather for travelling but the mist would at least provide some cover.
He saddled the horses and carefully placed their baggage on Zachus, hoping he had not left behind anything they would need.
"I know we face a perilous journey today," Aragorn said looking Faramir straight in the eye. "The Valar alone know what lies at the ending!"
Faramir returned his gaze steadily. "I would shed my last drop of blood to save you, my Lord King!" He unbuckled his dagger and handed it to him. "Take this, we should each carry our own weapon and you will feel safer with it!" he advised.
"Thank you!" Aragorn was surprised at this unexpected gesture and felt oddly comforted by it. Whatever his true intentions, Faramir had at least brought him out from that dark cellar and let him see the sky again. He had tended him caringly too, in different circumstances he would have said lovingly, albeit somewhat ineptly.
Fleetingly, he wondered if he should try to share thoughts with him and discover his true motivations. The hurt, though, was too deep and he feared what he might discover, helpless as he was and powerless to prevent himself being led into a trap. He would know soon enough if he truly were being taken to rejoin Arwen and Eldarion. The alternative; that Faramir had brought him here to revive him so that he could be tortured further, was too horrible to contemplate.
Aragorn fastened the weapon around his waist with his one good hand and Faramir helped him to his feet. The Steward hesitated, yearning to embrace his Lord knowing that the journey was a perilous one and they may not live to see another sunrise. He yearned for Aragorn's forgiveness and his reassurance that he had tried his best but now was not the time.
Slowly, they made their way out to where Elbeth was waiting impatiently with the horses. His face felt cold and alarmingly naked where his beard had been but a short time ago.
Carefully, Faramir lifted the King on to Roheryn's broad back and then mounted behind him, enveloping Aragorn in his cloak to keep him warm
Despite his weakness and apprehension, Aragorn's spirits lifted at the prospect of spending the day in the fresh air. After so long enduring the confines of first a cellar and later a cave, it was bliss to be outside, with the grass under Roheryn's hooves and the open sky above his head.
All too soon though, his wounds began to pain him and though he was determined not to complain and show his weakness, Faramir, though, was all too aware of his discomfort from the way he tensed and his ragged breathing.
It was unfortunate that one of his most painful wounds was on his waist, just where Faramir had to hold him to prevent him from sliding off Roheryn's back. He would have been more comfortable sitting behind his Steward, but dared not suggest it, since he doubted his ability to remain alert and not slide to the ground. Nor, would he take poppy juice for the pain, as that would have made him drowsy and he needed to keep his wits about him should Faramir lead him into a trap.
Faramir was insisting they stop to rest for a few minutes every hour or so and progress through the forest was painfully slow. Elbeth was succeeding well in riding Zachus and kept up a slow but steady pace beside the two men.
"Where are we?" she demanded after they had spent the morning picking their way through the forest.
"I think we are about to cross the Lord of Lossarnach's lands" Faramir told her, "Half of this forest belongs to him and the other half to the Lord of Ringlo Vale."
"Oh!" said Elbeth, as this information meant nothing to her, "How long are we going to be in this forest I'm bored!"
"Not very long now," Faramir soothed, though inwardly he dreaded reaching the open countryside more, this would be the most dangerous part of their journey.
"I'm hungry!" Elbeth complained, "And I'm tired of sitting on this horse!"
Sighing, Faramir halted yet again to give her some dried fruit to eat out of their meagre supplies.
She ate it shifting restlessly from one foot to another.
"Go and stretch your legs!" Faramir told her, "I do not want you to wander out of side of the horses though and be very quiet!"
She ran into the trees with the speed of an arrow released by a bowstring, her feet churning up the dead leaves that carpeted the forest floor
Aragorn suddenly slumped over Roheryn's neck in obvious agony and Faramir lifted him down, wincing at the pain in his back as he did so. He sat the King on a fallen tree trunk where Aragorn slumped dejectedly, his features pale and drawn.
"Is the pain very bad, sire?" Faramir asked, his eyes full or concern.
Aragorn nodded feebly, lacking even the strength to lift his head. "Just here," he whispered, gesturing towards his waist.
Faramir hurriedly fetched the saddlebag containing the salves and bandages and prepared to investigate. It was far too cold to remove the sick man's clothing here.
He pushed Aragorn's tunic and shirt to see what was paining him. To his dismay, the bandage round his waist was soaked with blood where the still raw wound had chafed. It looked excruciatingly painful. He knew it was madness to travel with Aragorn in such a precarious condition, but what other choice did he have? Faramir groaned inwardly. "Can you hold up your shirt while I bandage it? I will see if I can pad it better," he said.
"The butcher knew all too well that removing the skin would cause a painful and slow healing wound," Aragorn sighed, shuddering at the memory. "It needs stitching."
Faramir brought the water skin and offered him a drink before using some to clean the wound. Aragorn flinched and gritted his teeth as Faramir washed away the blood and applied a liberal amount of salve to the raw flesh.
"Eowyn should be able to help you," he said, thinking longingly of his wife and only hoping her skills were sufficient.
"I thought we were going to find Arwen." Aragorn said suspiciously wondering if Faramir and Eowyn together were planning to rule using Elbeth as a figurehead.
"Eowyn is with your Queen," Faramir explained patiently, "I sent them and the babies into hiding together. Eowyn is very loyal to you and your lady, sire."
Aragorn nodded tiredly, hoping she had developed a more gentle touch during the past year if she were indeed to tend his wounds.
The Steward pressed a thick wad of bandage to the wound and secured it with strips wound round him. There was even a different scent surrounding Aragorn now. Before his captivity, a wholesome aroma of refreshing herbs had always surrounded him. Now he smelt of sweat and blood and pungent salves.
"Now do you think you can get back on Roheryn?" Faramir asked, "I want to be clear of the rebels' lands before nightfall."
Aragorn nodded and Faramir helped him get shakily to his feet and they joined Elbeth who was waiting impatiently by the horses.
"You said I was to be quick but I've been waiting here for ages and ages!" she complained.
"Well I hope you have stretched your legs properly," Faramir replied, ignoring her complaints.
"I've walked on them, not stretched them!" Elbeth retorted, "Why do grown ups not say what they mean?"
"How I wish I could answer you that question," Aragorn said, an edge of bitterness in his voice, which scared Elbeth into silence.
Faramir lifted her back on to Zachus and they urged the horses forward again.
The King now seemed more comfortable and they were able to continue their journey until they reached the edge of the forest where they stopped to rest the horses.
Several acres of rolling pastureland, which belonged to the Lord of Lossarnach, lay ahead. This would most likely be the most dangerous part of the journey as there was no shelter from anyone trying to find them.
Faramir could only hope that the tenant farmers he had met were not from this area, as he feared recognition by one of Fosco and Devorin's dinner guests.
He pulled his hood low over his and draped the folds of his cloak to more closely conceal Aragorn. He hoped Elbeth was now unrecognisable as the bejewelled little princess she had been. Her clothes were now dirty and torn and her face streaked with mud.
They were riding past a row of cottages, when a man came out and approached them, much to their dismay.
Faramir's hand reached for his sword hilt.
"Who are you?" the man asked, "You're trespassing on the Lord of Lossarnach's land!"
"I am a soldier from Minas Tirith who came to spend his leave a few leagues from here, visiting my widowed father and my little daughter," he replied, gesturing towards Aragorn and Elbeth and thanking the Valar, they would all easily pass as close kin. "I found my poor father stricken with fever and am taking him to the healers in the city! I am sorry. I did not realise we were trespassing!"
The man stepped back in alarm. "Be off with you then!" he snarled, "Don't you go and be bringing the fever here!"
Faramir urged Roheryn to a canter, calling to Elbeth to do the same.
"You have become well skilled at deception, claiming to be my son!" Aragorn said when they slowed down to a trot again.
"I used to boast that I would not even deceive an Orc with a falsehood," Faramir replied sadly, "But it seems I have become a master of lies. As I smuggled you out of Devorin's Lodge by claiming you had the Fever, it seemed as good a story as any! "
"Not all lies are evil, you learn after eighty seven years spent in hiding!" Aragorn replied sadly," You were an idealist, so I thought .I had hoped to create a world in which ideals could flourish! But are there any left to share such a dream?"
"You will create that world once you are restored to your rightful place!" Faramir said fiercely as they approached a bend in the path.
Hoof beats could be heard approaching. Faramir looked frantically for some cover, but the nearest copse was at least a quarter of a mile away, across an open field, over which the mist hung but sparsely. There was no way they could reach it in time to conceal themselves.
A well-dressed rider on a fine grey horse loomed out of the mist and headed straight towards them. To their horror, it was the Lord of Lossarnach, accompanied by at least a dozen of his men.
Aragorn gave a gasp of sheer anguish. It was as he had feared. Faramir had led him into a trap. He reached for his dagger, sorely tempted to first cut his Steward's treacherous throat with it before turning it on himself.
He knew though, he could never destroy the one he had loved as his own son. Better by far to end his own torment. He tried to firmly grasp the weapon only to find he lacked sufficient strength. Dejectedly, he slumped forward.
Behind him, Faramir swiftly reached for his sword. The other hand concealed under his cloak, held his dagger, which he held against Aragorn's heart.
They were hopelessly outnumbered and their disguise woefully inadequate. He would not let them be taken alive though. He would kill first Aragorn and then himself.
TBC
A very big thank you for all your much appreciated reviews. I have replied to everyone who has logged in. A warm welcome to new readers and a big thank you to old ones for your loyalty. Circumstances have made this chapter a little later than I intended it to be.