Flashback in italic.
An hour later, Denethor sighs. His back is stiff and his arms sore. Faramir lies still on the bed. The stillness belies the tension Faramir has been experiencing ever since he sat down. Clearly, his efforts to comfort Faramir have largely been in vain. Some of the tension has been released but not enough to attribute it to his comforting. For all he knows, it could be for several other reasons.
He looks up and out of the window. His muscles scream at the movement as if he is trying to stretch a tight rope. Outside the window, some sunlight greets him in between hovering dark clouds. His mind moves back to the signs he saw before. Signs of which he remembers clearly. The black ships sailing on the Anduin. A totally unwelcome sight. A sight which changed when men disembarked. They were all Gondorians or (potential) allies. But definitely not friends of Mordor. Especially once the standard was raised.
He takes a deep breath knowing what all of it means. Those men could not have come were they not gathered somewhere. And had no one captured the ships. He does not know for certain who did it but he has some ideas. All his ideas lead him to one fact; it must have been a friend of Gondor who gathered the men. If he remembers the standard correctly then it was most likely Gil. He will only know once Gil or whoever used the standard shows themself.
Looking at the shy, he smiles pleased. His memory was accurate. Gondor received aid just when it was not expected and sorely needed. The thought of the aid brings his mind back to the way the battle turned. It turned into Gondor's favor almost immediately. It was clear the forces of Mordor were afraid of the men and the standard. He grins for he can imagine why. The thought has him simmering with excitement which he can barely contain. Regardless of the reason, he appreciates their fear for it gave his forces the change they needed to end the siege once and for all.
Light hits his eyes blinding him. In the distance, he can see a standard being raised. Hope fills his entire being. The standard falls and darkness fills his eyes. It surrounds him completely shrouding any light there is. A small light appears in the distance slowly growing. The standard appears again and hope returns to his being. Mist hangs around him containing the light around him.
The mist disintegrates. He stands in Faramir's room in front of the window looking out towards the city. He frowns wondering what the fall of the standard meant. He cannot figure it out with certainty. All he knows is that someone has fallen or gotten injured. But who it was, remains a mystery. He hopes it is the standard-bearer for else it would mean Gil was injured. Gil being killed is something he cannot believe for then the standard would not have been raised again. At the same time, he also cannot believe Gil would have gotten injured. He is too good of a fighter for that to have happened.
If it is the standard-bearer who fell then he wonders who picked the standard up. He does not believe it is Gil for no lord would bear his own standard. So it is the question who could have raised the standard. He can only imagine it being another Dúnedain but does not know who. He never met the northern Dúnedain. And by raising it again, they showed that the lord has not been injured. Knowing this, he is confident Gil has survived the battle.
Minas Tirith, Aragorn POV
While Denethor sits next to Faramir, Aragorn looks at the broken wall wondering what he will find inside. Considering the outer wall has parts missing, he cannot imagine the situation to be any different from the fields. Especially as he can see some fires burning in the city. Steeling himself, he lifts his hood checking to see if his cloak is securely around him. He adjusts the cloak a bit before walking towards the broken gate. Lead fills his shoes as he walks. Destroyed houses appear in front of his eyes. He sees warriors walking around covered in soot and dirt.
A shadow falls over him. In front of him, light can be seen. He turns his head around. Around him, stone is seen together with the rubble of broken stone. He looks up towards an arch. He realizes he saw what he eats imagining and not the actual state of the level. With this realization, he steps through the archway into the city.
A few steps later, he is on the first level. Damaged houses can be seen. Some of them are scorched black. Men walk around carrying stones or other things. He has heard how men were affected by the Black Breath. It means they need the aid only, he or his brothers can provide. Depending on how many men were affected, they might have a lot of work on their hands.
He looks around. All men running around are low ranked soldiers. No officer can be seen. He needs them to find those affected. So, he keeps looking for an officer. After about an hour of painstaking searching, he finally located an officer; a captain at that.
"Captain, can you tell me where those affected by the Black Breath are?"
"Why do you ask? No one can do anything for them. What do you need to see them?"
The captain frowns at him with visible suspicion. An emotion he can understand for he would feel the same were a stranger to ask the same of him. As a result, he carefully ensures his body is relaxed and a calm smile is on his face.
"I can do more for them than you know. I can aid them but for that need to know where they are."
"They are all around the city, sir. Many have been affected. Most have been taken to the Houses of Healing."
He nods and looks around. In the distance, a familiar face walks; Halbarad's oldest son, Halon. Halon turns towards him as if feeling eyes on himself. A frown comes over Halon's face visible for only a short while before Halon makes his way over to him. He waits for Halon to reach him. Once he does, an expectant look crosses Halon's face. He smiles calmly knowing where they look comes from.
"Halon, tell my brothers to take care of the people affected in the city. I will be in the Houses doing the same should someone need me."
"Yes, my lord."
Halon turns and hurries back towards the broken gate. Halon does not say anymore but most likely hurries back to the fields. There his brothers are looking after the wounded. As for the information he gained right now, the houses is where he is headed. He does not see the captain looking at him baffled.
Walking through the levels, he sees wounded men walking around or sitting against walls holding their wounds. Some bodies are covered by a cloth. Men are moving the bodies around. Seeing this brings him back to Halbarad's injury.
Riding of the ramp, he sees Halbarad lifting the standard for all to see. There is no going back now. Everyone will see the claim he makes. He hopes for Gondor's sake Denethor will not create any problems. During this war and afterward, no one has a use for more conflict. He is well aware a civil war can break out.
A shout comes from the front. He looks up. An orc runs towards them weapon held high. Others standing the distance watching and shouting. Some are smiling. Steel sliding through sheets can be heard. Horses buckle and whine. The ground resounds with the trampling of hooves. He follows their lead and holds his sword and reins tightly in his hands.
The orc reaches them slashing around. Shouts are made to kill the orc. Arrows whistle through the air. Grunting can be heard coming from the orc though it does not stop it. No, it keeps moving despite everyone's efforts until it reaches Halbarad. The sword moves through the air. Clothes rip. A weak cry sounds before Halbara falls with a grunt. He kicks his horse forward, his heart stuck in his throat.
Moments later, he arrives besides his cousin. He jumps down and kneels next to Halbarad. Out of the corner of his eyes, he sees Halon picking up the banner and lifting it. Men form a circle around them. It is then he feels safe enough to focus his attention on Halbarad. Feeling for the wound, he finds it quickly. His fingers pass into the wound easily nearly two knuckles deep. Blood flows freely around his hand. A pressure on his shoulder and he turns.
"Estel, go with your men. I will look after Halbarad."
He nods to Elladan and quietly mounts his horse. A quick look at Halbarad and he rides next to Halon. Not long afterward, he enters the fray of the battle. Rohan and Gondor have already attacked from the other side. He only has one side to handle while keeping his worry for Halbarad to the back of his mind.
He can still see and feel the wound if he closes his eyes. He knows it was a serious wound. Halbarad falling did not scare as much the orc attacking. But that was not what really worried him. That was the wound itself. And the last time he talked with Elrohir, he learned Halbarad still lives and would be taken to the Houses of Healing as soon as possible. He hopes Halbarad will survive and knows only time will tell him if this will be the case.
Houses of healing, Minas Tirith
He looks around. All around him men are carried into the houses. A few sit near the houses on the ground leaning against the wall. Men carry supplies into the houses alongside servants. Servants carry baskets with blood-drenched clothes and cloth out of the houses. The baskets are filled beyond the brink. The servants swear and groan as they walk with the baskets. All in all, it is clear to see the Houses have too much work to do. Every healer is more than needed here. Knowing this, he grabs a young healer by the arm stopping him in his tracks.
"What do you want? I have enough work to do!"
"I come offering aid. Is it possible for me to meet with the warden?"
"No, it is not possible. I am not a messenger. Besides, my patient needs me."
"Could you seek him out while I care for your patient?"
The young healer, whose name he does not know, narrows his eyes and looks him over. The frustration he noticed before has not evaporated. No, it remains. He also knows what the healer will see; stained clothing, both with blood and dirt, stained boots, dirty hands, and face. His exhaustion might also be seen but he is not sure. All he does is hope the healer accepts his offer. It will make everything that much easier for everyone. After some time which includes multiple once-overs, a sigh reaches his ears.
"Fine. You care for my patient but be prepared; I will check your work. No patient of mine will be unnecessarily endangered."
"Of course not. Where can I find your patient?"
The healer mentions to the left with his head. The armload the healer carried is dropped in his hands. His arms buckle a bit before he manages to find stability.
"Over there. I just gave you what you need. If you attend to my patient now then I will seek out the warden."
A hard look and the healer is gone. He sighs. It is not what he had expected but he is pleased by the healer's protectiveness over his patients. It shows great promise for the healer's future. But right now, he needs to attend to the patient.
Walking towards his patient, he looks his patient over. A cloth is pressed hard on the arm by his own hand. A bandage covers the head. It looks loose and wrongly applied for it is bound right over the place where blood seeps through. It is as if it was hurriedly applied by an untrained person. The face is sweaty and deadly pale. A grimace comes and goes. He frowns worriedly wondering how much blood the man has lost. At the same time, he knows there could be other reasons for his paleness. For example, injuries he cannot see or the wrongly applied bandage on the head.
"Good evening. What is your name? Can you tell me what ails you?"
"Are you a healer?"
"A healer, yes, but not from the houses. Can you tell me your name and where you are wounded?"
"My name is Ithil. My arm has a deep cut and my head hurts."
"Is that all?"
"No, my ribs hurt."
"Mhh."
He knew there was something with the ribs or lungs. The labored breathing he heard when Ithil talked indicated it. Now, he has it confirmed; it is the ribs which affected the breathing. The possibilities run through his mind; broken and bruised. Whatever it is, he has to check it over but first the arm wound.
Lifting the cloth slightly, blood drips down over his hand. At the sides, the bleeding has stopped. Deeming the wound less of an immediate issue, he presses the cloth down again. Ithil puts his hand over it almost immediately. With the wound covered again, he turns to Ithil's head. Checking the wound, he sees a deep cut has been made. The cut bleeds freely. It needs to be stitched just like the arm wound. Looking Ithil into his eyes, he turns Ithil's head towards a nearby flame. The pupils dilate the same. This is good to see but it does not exclude a concussion.
Moving his hands lower, he lifts the shirt up. He is met with a black and blue chest. It looks as if someone used this man as a punching bag. He feels along the chest with his hands. Ithil hisses as he touches certain places. He knows these are the hurt parts. Carefully feeling along those spots, he can tell which of the ribs are broken. Having gone over everything, he now knows what he needs to do.
"Ithil, you most likely have a concussion based on your head wound. I cannot be sure so you will have to stay awake for the entire night. Seek out someone with whom you can stay and who can keep you awake. The cuts, I will need to stitch. Your ribs are unfortunately broken. I will have to bind them but I cannot do more for them. They need to heal with time. So, you need to avoid putting too much strain on them for the next few months."
The man nods wincing. He carefully binds the ribs with a bandage making sure it is not too tight or too loose. Having done that, he turns his attention to the arm wound. He feels along the edges to see how it needs to be stitched. He prefers to have this known so he can work faster.
"Sir, you wanted to see me?"
He turns and looks up. Master Neston stands next behind him together with the young healer. Master Neston looks at him with a frown and a small smile. He wonders if Master Neston remembers him. The young healer, on the contrary, looks at him with a frown, narrowed eyes, and a tilted head. Most likely, the healer is suspicious about his skills.
"Yes, I did. I come offering my aid."
"Your aid is most welcome. But l what kind aid do you wish to provide to the houses?"
Master Neston frowns. He can see the wheels turning behind the eyes. Most likely in an attempt to find the best place where he can be assigned. He lightly smiles ruefully. Master Neston is in for a surprise.
"I came offering my aid to those affected by the Black Breath."
"The Black Breath? What could you do for them? There is nothing we can do for them except make their final hours comfortable."
"I can do more than that. I can heal them. Tell me, do you have any Athelas?"
"Kingsfoil? No, we do not have any. Why would you need it? It is but weed and an old women's remedy. It can do nothing for these people."
"On the contrary, with it, I can bring them back."
"Master Neston, I see you have met Estel already."
All heads turn to the side. He smiles pleased to see Mithrandir there. He could aid him in reassuring master Neston none of his worries are justified. At the same time, he frowns. He does not believe Mithrandir to be here just to aid him; he most likely is needed for something. But what? Asking Mithrandir about it is of no use. All he can do is wait for Mithrandir to share the information.
"I have, Mithrandir if this young man is Estel. Do you know him?"
"I do. I have known him since he was a young boy. He is an excellent healer. He has come to aid those affected by the Black Breath, I assume. He has healed people who were affected before."
"If you say so. He told me indeed he could aid them. His remedies though, I deem futile. There is nothing which kingsfoil can do for these people even though this young man claims otherwise. I sincerely doubt he has healed any before no matter what you say."
"You should not doubt me, master Neston. Estel can heal these people. As I have said, I have seen him heal a cousin of his from it a few years ago. All the others he has healed were also done in the north. It is no surprise you have not heard about it."
Master Neston turns to him. A frown and faraway look in master Neston's eyes. He waits patiently for master Neston to process the information. Turning his head to Mithrandir, he smiles. Mithrandir smiles and nods in response. A twinkle is visible in his eyes.
"Estel, I apologize for my earlier words. I am willing to allow you to show me what you can do. I will reserve my judgment until then."
"Thank you. Shall I finish treating this young man?"
"No, Osgardir will do this. I gave him the assignment to treat this man so he should."
Master Neston gives Osgardir a stern look. There is more to his words than there appear to be. Osgardir quickly looks down and away while biting his lips. It is almost as if he feels guilty about something. It lasts but a moment before Osgardir focuses on him.
"What have you found?"
"I found signs of a concussion and broken ribs. The ribs I have already bound. The head wound and arm wound need to be stitched. For that, I have not had time."
"I will check to form my own impression and to see if you have done your work well."
"Estel is a highly capable healer; you do not need to question him on his work. He has been healing people for nearly as long as master Neston and seen much worse than you have."
Osgardir blushes. He turns his head to Mithrandir and gives a glare. No one needs to come to his defense. Mithrandir only lifts an eyebrow and looks back at Osgardir who bites the inside of his cheek.
"Of course, Mithrandir."
"Mithrandir, do you wish to accompany us?"
"I very much wish to do so."
"Then follow me while I lead you both to those affected by the Black Breath."
Master Neston turns around and walks into the houses. Aragorn follows him after throwing a glance at Mithrandir. Mithrandir only shrugs before also following. As they walk through the houses, master Neston takes a turn. They are led away from the central part of the houses to one of the side wings. If he is right then this side was rarely used during the time he was here.
Suddenly master Neston stops. They stand in front of two large doors. A creaking sound signals the opening of the door. Moaning reaches his ears through the crack of the door. It increases the further the door opens. It means nothing good for the wounded but it does mean something good for him; this is not a room filled with those affected by the Black Breath.
Stepping into the room, he sees Rohirrim lying on cots and leaning against the walls. Rohirrim walk around with blankets and whatnot. Servants do the same. In the distance, a cot lies on a raised platform. Next to the cot, a young man sits who brings Éomer to his mind. But it cannot be. Éomer was not wounded. Éowyn is still in Rohan. He frowns. How could the young man bring Éomer to his mind?
"The lady Éowyn could use your aid among others."
"Yes, and one of the others is Faramir. Faramir caught it as one of the first, I believe. Could you check on him, Estel?"
Only now does he notice he stands next to the platform. Master Neston stands next to the man. It is Éomer. Now the name master Neston used; it was Éowyn. How did she come here? Only one way and that is by sneaking amongst the army.
Éomer looks at him hopefully. Turning his head, Mithrandir does the same. So who shall he oblige? Well, there is no question about it. At the same time, he has his doubts Thor will allow him to even attend on Faramir. Especially if his identity becomes known. He might be thrown out of the houses at the very least. It will not do the patients right. It leaves him with only one option; treating Faramir last. He does not like it for it will make his work more difficult but he has no other choice.
"I will attend on Éowyn first."
He does not wait for Mithrandir to respond. He walks upon the platform. Only now, another cot becomes visible. On it lies a young man who almost looks like a child. It takes but a moment to recognize him; it is Merry. He was completely hidden by Éomer and Éowyn.
Kneeling, he carefully lifts Éowyn's arm. It has caught his attention due to its color. Feeling along the arm, he feels the bones are still intact. He does not feel any spraining. He knows it is still possible to be sprained due to Éowyn's lack of reaction to his ministrations. Regardless of this, he can easily tell she is affected by the Black Breath. That is rather obvious.
"Master Neston, can you arrange for me to receive some Athelas?"
"We do not have any here. But I can send someone looking for more. Is there anything else you need?"
"Please do so. I will also need a bowl with water."
He does not wait to see master Neston respond, confident his request will be fulfilled. He turns around towards Merry and checks him over for injuries. He finds a few cuts and bruises which will be easy to treat. But it is the Black Breath which worries him. With Merry, it is not so obvious as with Éowyn. He has to carefully search for it. And until he receives Athelas he cannot do anything for Merry except treat the cuts and bruises.
"My lord, I found these leaves. Do they suffice?"
He turns. A young man stands before him holding out his hands. In his hands lie a few leaves. Looking the young man in his face, he is met with a face younger than he expected. At the same time, he does not know him even though he looks familiar. He frowns on being unable to place where the familiarity comes from. He mentally shakes his head. He has no time to contemplate this. He has enough work to do so he takes the leaves. He turns them over in his hand inspecting them.
"Yes, these will suffice. Thank you, young man, you have been most helpful."
"Thank you, Bergil. You can leave now."
The dismissal in the warden's voice is harsher than he likes. Regardless, he does not watch Bergil leave for he turns back towards Éowyn. Next to her stands a bowl of clean water. He did not notice it being placed here but is glad to see it regardless. As if reading his confusion, master Neston speaks up.
"I had servants place the bowl next to Princess Éowyn for I thought you intended to heal her first."
"Thank you for your consideration, master Neston."
Taking a leaf, he places the others next to him on the cloth which he closes. He crushes the leaf in his hands, breathes over it, and drops it in the bowl. The familiar fresh smell of roses and waterfalls reaches his mind. He picks up the bowl and holds it in front of Éowyn knowing she will smell something else. It takes a moment for the Athelas to work before she wakes up confused. Her eyes drift to him and around her. A frown growing on her face. He quickly checks her over before standing up unwilling to confuse her even more. He takes the bowl with him to Merry and holds it in front of him a short time later. Merry's eyes start to flutter just like Éowyn's.
Turning his attention to the cloth, he folds it keeping the leaves inside. Only then does he try to stand up knowing what he needs to do next. Lead fills his shoes just thinking about it. Muscles cramping tightly makes it difficult for him to stand up. Still, he pushes through it and finally stands up turning towards master Neston.
"Master Neston, if you could take me to Lord Faramir now. I would like to treat him."
"Of course. Follow me."
Master Neston walks away with him following closely behind. With the back turned towards him, he does not know how master Neston reacted. Something, he would like to know. If only to know what he might expect when he meets Denethor.
As they walk, familiar walls greet him. The walls which lead to the noble wing in which he resided for some time. An event which confuses him to this time. He was a captain at the time and not a nobleman who would be expected to reside there. Whoever moved him there must have gotten in a lot of trouble. Or at least, he believes so for Ecthelion would not have approved of it. No matter how much Ecthelion liked him. Goosebumps travel over his body whenever he thinks about it. In an attempt to lose them, he makes a decision.
"What can you tell me about Lord Faramir's condition?"
"There is not much to tell, Estel. Captain Faramir is unconscious, feverish but also cold to the touch. Besides that, which is the worst, he also has an arrow wound on his shoulder."
He nods knowing now what he will be facing. The fever can be caused by both the wound and the Black Breath. It needs to be determined what causes the fever. It is an added benefit that he can inspect the wound at the same time. Afterward, he can turn his attention to the Black Breath. Something he is confident he can handle. About something else, he is not so confident.
He fears Denethor's reaction when he is recognized. For him, this is not a matter of if but more of when. He expects anger for he was told to stay away. Denethor made it clear to him during their fight. The anger he feels he does not deserve for he came to Gondor's aid as promised. It should be appreciated but it will not be. Denethor's anger will be too great when Denethor recognizes him. The anger might also deny Faramir the treatment he desperately needs. How to solve this dilemma, he does not know.
A few options come to his mind. He could keep his face hidden or have Denethor sent out of the room. If questions are asked, he could claim to be a relative of himself. He shakes his head. The last option will not work for Denethor will not believe him. Doing this will only cause problems and will most likely worsen the situation. Sending Denethor out will also not work because it will cause suspicion in master Neston. Mithrandir might aid him, he sort of expects it, but it is not assured to succeed.
He takes a deep breath for there is only one option remaining. He needs to keep his face hidden for the time he treats Faramir. It will not be easy but he needs to do it. All he can do is be careful with how his face shows. Afterward, he will leave the houses. It is for the best.