Chapter Four: A Tale to Tell
Disclaimer: I own…Raewyn, Silme, Ongwynn, and Boromir (sigh) I wish. So sue me.
She was dreaming. A heavy wool blanket covered her battered body. Soft, worn linen nightclothes replaced her tattered gown. A plump, downy pillow cradled her aching head. "I don't want this dream to end," Raewyn murmured to herself.
"It's not a dream," a voice replied.
"What?" Raewyn whispered.
"It's not a dream," Aragorn repeated, "You are lying in the Golden Hall of Edoras, and your wounds have been seen to by Eowyn,"—he gestured towards a gowned figure in the doorway—"shieldmaiden of Rohan."
Raewyn slowly nodded, trying to take in the vast explanation.
Aragorn sensed her bewilderment. "In time," he said, "you will understand. But now you must rest."
Just as Raewyn opened her mouth to ask the man's name, another voice answered for her. "My lord Aragorn," the woman in the doorway suddenly said," we must first dress the wounds of—" her voice trailed off, marked by a distinct inquisitive tone.
Aragorn looked towards the elf on the bed.
"Raewyn," she said, in a loud, clear voice, though it pained her to speak, "my name is Raewyn. And I thank you, Lady Eowyn, for healing me." Raewyn attempted to give the fair woman a smile of pure gratitude, but she feared that the throbbing in her cheek and her inability to open her left eye made the grin look more like a grimace.
"I must say that you are a long way from healed. When you first arrived, your cheek was all but spliced open. And your arm—well, Raewyn, we must have your wounds cleaned and bound once more," Eowyn said with forced cheer, approaching the bed that lay in the center of the chamber.
Two servant men appeared at the door and lifted Raewyn, who gasped at the sudden, painful movement of her injured arm. "Are you all right?" inquired Eowyn, a look of genuine concern upon her fair face. Raewyn took a deep breath and nodded.
The two servants lay Raewyn down upon a long, narrow couch that stood beside a tub of warm, steaming water. "You may leave us," Eowyn said to the servants. "Oh, and fetch Ongwynn, please."
Moments later, a stout, motherly woman appeared, and assisted Eowyn in the difficult task of removing Raewyn's clothing in the least painful manner possible. Despite the unconsciousness that threatened to overtake her, her modesty took over and Raewyn blushed at the prospect of being unclothed in front of these two kind strangers. As Ongwynn peeled the bandage away from her arm, Raewyn shuddered, and closed her eyes again. The servant woman lowered Raewyn into the bath, apologizing profusely when Raewyn gasped at the sudden prickle of heat. Ongwynn produced a thick bar of yellow soap, and helped her rub the suds into her matted damp hair. Out of the corner of her eye, Raewyn saw Ongwynn lift a small, soapy washcloth to her arm. "I'm sorry, milady," Ongwynn said, "but it must be done." Raewyn squeezed her eyes shut as the cloth pressed down upon the gash.
When she awoke, she was once again lying in the bedchamber, dressed in a new nightdress with neatly bound bandages around her arm and a cool cloth upon her left eye socket.
"You are rested, I hope?" Aragorn inquired. He was seated on a low stool near the bed, a thick tome in his hands.
Raewyn nodded.
"I hope you don't mind if I question you a bit, since I know naught but your name. After all, we have exchanged but a few words, and I am hard pressed to provide an answer as to why a lone elleth would roam the perilous plains of Rohan," Aragorn said.
"Of course," Raewyn replied, the wound upon her cheek much improved. "Begin, Lord Aragorn."
"You come from Lorien—that much I do know, from your attire and your appearance. But why do you wander alone?"
"I was exiled," Raewyn said curtly. "I killed a child. An accident," she added, rather hastily.
Aragorn's grey eyes bore steadily into Raewyn's. "How long has it been?"
"Two years," Raewyn said in a low voice. "Enough time for me to slaughter my share of orcs. Enough time to die."
"Where did you learn to fight?" Aragorn asked.
"I learned from my father. I could never best him—well, once I did. But I think he was taking pity on me." Raewyn stifled a short sob at the memory of her family and her home.
"You are brave," Aragorn said simply.
Raewyn smiled slightly in spite of the stormy tears that threatened to burst. "No. A desperate time calls for desperate measures. Are you now satisfied that I am not, in fact, a spy of Saruman? For I am weary from telling my tale—and you have yet to tell me yours. And—who are the others? I remember a dwarf and an elf."
"They are right outside the chamber. Come!" Aragorn called. The two promptly entered and respectfully bowed towards Raewyn. "This is Gimli, son of Gloin, and Legolas, son of King Thranduil, and prince of Mirkwood. Gimli, Legolas—this is Raewyn of Lorien."
"I cannot begin to explain my gratitude," Raewyn said, tentatively. "And I fear that I have no way to repay you."
"There is no need," Aragorn said softly. "I am sure you are curious, too, as to how a man, dwarf, and elf would chance upon you."
Raewyn nodded. "That is true," she admitted.
Aragorn proceeded to tell the tale of the Ring's journey from Rivendell, how they had searched in vain for two hobbits, and how Gandalf the White, perhaps better known to her as Mithrandir, had returned. Raewyn listened with rapt contemplation. By the time he was finished, Gimli had already left the chamber, but Legolas stayed.
"I will watch her," he quietly said to Aragorn, trying not to disrupt Raewyn, who had fallen asleep. "You have not left her side for two days."
Aragorn nodded in consent. Somberly, he told Legolas, "She has been given herbs and poultices to ease the pain, but the wound is badly infected. I do not know if she will survive."
(A/N) Sorry for not updating in such a long time…AP Tests, finals, laziness….but mostly laziness. I'm actually at a summer camp in Chicago right now…yes, it's NERD camp. taking physics, fyi Whee! (NOT) I should probably be asleep…but NO, I'm up typing a new chappie. Oh, and happy Fourth of July, y'all!)