28th November 3018
Aragorn woke to feel someone shaking him.
'Lith?' he murmured between heavy coughs.
'Lith is here,' replied a familiar voice. 'As am I.'
'Gandalf,' Aragorn acknowledged, and sat up, blinking. The world seemed to swim before him and his whole body ached. His chest was heavy. 'Is it time to leave?'
'High time,' said the wizard, appearing in his vision as an unfocused patch of grey. 'You have slept late, Aragorn, but now we must be off and get you to Elrond as quickly as we can. Your fever worsens and we fear that the bite may be turning infected. Just your luck to fall prey to influenza and a wolf's teeth on the same day.'
Aragorn groaned which quickly became another bout of coughing. When he paused for breath, Lith was crouched by his side, holding out a waterskin. Aragorn sneezed into his elbow and then took the skin, gratefully.
'Lith. You are well?'
'Yes, Aragorn,' the Elf said, though Aragorn thought he looked pale and troubled. 'I am well. Here, you should eat.'
Lith took Aragorn's hand, turned it over, and dropped a handful of berries and plant matter into his palm. Aragorn smiled wryly at how different the former Wood-elf's idea of breakfast was to his former halfling travelling companions, but he did not complain. Lith ate like a bird, or perhaps more accurately like a squirrel. In the last weeks Aragorn had become familiar with the way the Elf foraged as they walked, gathering nuts, acorns or fungi a few at a time, sometimes storing them away in his pockets or backpack, but more usually eating them raw straight from the tree. It had seemed rather an endearing trait until Aragorn had realised that it was probably one born out of too frequent deprivation.
'Aragorn?' a voice said. He looked up with a start to realise he had let his thoughts distract him. The Elf and wizard were still waiting for him to respond.
'I am sorry,' he murmured, suppressing a cough. 'I am ready, I think.' He quickly examined the food Lith had provided. After discretely discarding a few pieces of mushroom he was fairly certain were poisonous to any but Elfkind, he ate the rest of the berries: bitter sloes, woody haws and late blackberries, soft and over ripe. Then he got to his feet, a rather more difficult a task then he had expected, as it turned out. His right leg burned like it had been set aflame the moment he put his weight on it and he fell, biting back a cry. That of course irritated his throat and he slumped to the floor, gripping his calf and hacking up mouthfuls of sour phlegm into the grass. When next he could focus on anything but the combined pain in his chest and leg, Lith and Gandalf were crouched either side of him, talking rapidly in that strange dialect of Silvan Elvish that Lith always seemed to revert to in moments of stress.
'I am not dying,' Aragorn rasped at them, the moment he could catch his breath. 'There is no need to speak over me.'
'Our apologies,' said Gandalf, reverting smoothly to Sindarin. 'We were just deciding what to do with you. I will go on ahead to Elrond's house and bring back Elves with horses-'
'Nonsense. There is no decision to make,' Aragorn argued, sitting up. 'We are barely a day from Imladris. I will be perfectly fine to make it on my own legs. Come, help me up.'
Lith just stared at him with an unreadable expression. Then, slowly, he came over and took hold of Aragorn's arm.
'This is against my better judgement,' muttered the wizard, but between them they got the Ranger back up on his feet. Aragorn tested his foot against the floor; it was painful indeed and throbbed with a hot beat that he knew meant infection was setting in. But he could walk, more or less, hobbling along on the staff Lith had cut for him and thinking he probably looked more elderly than the wizard. Lith took Aragorn's pack again without a word, and Aragorn was grateful.
His determination to walk home under his own power fuelled him for the next few hours, but it was not long after that Aragorn found his mind drifting into a fevered haze he couldn't shake. His head swam like he was underwater and his companions' voices became little more than a soft buzz. Every so often either the Elf or wizard pressed a waterskin into his hands when his lungs seized up, wracking him with wet, painful coughs. Before long the occasional hand under his elbow to guide his steps had become a permanent feature, that then developed into an arm around his waist. By the time Aragorn realised that the rushing he could hear was the waters of the Bruinen and not the sound of his own blood in his ears, his right arm was up over a pair of narrow shoulders and he was being all but carried along. When he opened his eyes and peered to the right, Lith's unkempt tangle of white-gold hair was quite unmistakable, even to Aragorn's clouded senses. Aragorn looked the other way and saw the rushing waters of the Bruinen carving deeply through a narrow valley. Ahead the river turned sharply around a rocky pinnacle he had passed a hundred times before. They were little over five miles from the Hidden Valley.
'We're nearly home,' Aragorn croaked, surprised, and then lost all breath for speech as his chest tightened.
'I should stay quiet if I were you, Aragorn,' Gandalf said from off to his left. He sounded stern but amused. 'You sound like you are standing at the very doors to the Halls of Waiting. You will frighten the hobbits when we arrive.'
'Nonsense,' muttered Aragorn, letting his head flop back. He could feel himself shivering. 'It is just a cold and a few scratches.'
'Of course it is,' the wizard muttered. 'Sometimes I don't know which of the two of you is worse.'
They continued for a few more moments until Aragorn stumbled, stubbing his foot against a stone. Pain jabbed up his right leg and he nearly slid from Lith's grasp. The Elf stopped, tightening his grip on Aragorn's waist.
'Are you well?' he asked, quiet and anxious.
'Yes. Fine,' Aragorn said, with his teeth gritted.
'Perhaps you should…' the Elf began, and then stopped himself. Aragorn had a feeling Lith had been going to suggest Aragorn take some of the pain-bite, but it was probably just as well that he had not vocalised the thought. Given how wan and twitchy Lith looked at the moment, it was probably better if neither of them let their thoughts dwell on the herb right at that moment.
'Let us take a brief rest,' Gandalf suggested. 'We are not far from our destination and it will do us no harm to catch our breath for a few minutes.'
The pair of them helped Aragorn sit on the bank so he could stretch his leg out before him. He rested his head on his other knee, trying not resist the urge to cough again.
Lith crouched down beside him, his hands fluttering uncertainly over the area of Aragorn's wound. He looked up at Gandalf. 'Should we change the bandages again?'
'Nay,' Aragorn answered instead, wearily, shivering hard. 'The wound will keep until we reach Imladris.'
'It should,' said the wizard. 'You, I am less sure about,' and then he passed both of them a flask of cordial. The drink was fresh and reviving, and Aragorn rallied enough to eat a little as the three travellers shared the last food from their packs. Aragorn realised with a slight guilty turn that the old wizard had taken on the burden of carrying Aragorn's pack while Lith had been busy supporting the man himself. Gandalf saw his look and waved his apology away.
'I am not as decrepit as that quite yet, young Aragorn,' he said with narrowed eyes.
Aragorn laughed, which of course triggered his cough once more. He slumped back, breathless, and considered his two strange traveling companions, grateful for their presence and fortitude. Mithrandir he had known for a long count of years and yet the wizard in many ways would ever be a mystery to him. And then there was Lith. The Elf had darted up into a leafless beech to check the lie of the land the moment the others were settled, but he had not yet come down. Aragorn could see him crouched on a low branch against the trunk, looking far away. The thoughts of the Eldar ran deep and were difficult for those other races to read from their expressions alone, leaving many to think Elves distant and untouched by emotion—a fallacy, of course, for they felt as deeply as any mortal: love and joy, terror and despair alike. Aragorn had a lifetime of experience deciphering the thoughts of Elves, and on Lith's face he saw uncertainty clearly written. Aragorn wondered why the Elf was still travelling with them as he was so ill at ease and had ever been insistent he would not come into the Valley again. Perhaps Gandalf had said something to persuade him. Aragorn wondered what the history between the Elf and the wizard might be, and how long they had known one another.
'Tell me a tale of your adventures together,' Aragorn said, at last. 'I need something to distract me from my pains. Lith spoke before about a rescue from a fire?'
'Did he now?' said Gandalf, raising both brows and looking up towards the Elf.
'He asked why you called me Lith,' the Elf said. He sounded defensive, and did not come down from the tree. 'I did not raise the subject.'
'Or some other tale, then,' said Aragorn, quickly, hoping he had not taken another wrong turn navigating the treacherous maze of the Elf's past, but to his surprise, Gandalf laughed.
'Nay, do not let him scare you off, Aragorn, he is merely saving his own embarrassment. You see, the incident with the fire involved me rescuing this troublemaker out of a blazing windmill.'
'I quite certainly rescued myself,' Lith retorted, lightning fast. 'I am not as decrepit as that quite yet, either.'
Lith's quick-witted reply startled a laugh from Aragorn. For all that the Elf seemed to have been growing comfortable with Aragorn's presence, hearing him jest with Gandalf made it clear just how far the Ranger still had to go to break through Lith's defences. He had overheard the argument between the two last night and thought the wizard and Elf to be at odds, but now he realised that perhaps the conflict had only come about because Gandalf knew Lith better than any other.
'Now I am curious indeed,' Aragorn said. 'But too breathless to ask questions. Will you not tell me the whole tale?'
He sat back and listened as the story of the rescue from the fire was retold in full, and it was a dramatic tale—spilled embers from a bread oven had set a mannish farmstead on the sides of Bree-hill ablaze, trapping the miller and his family within their burning farmhouse. The farm workers sleeping in the barn had quickly set up a chain of buckets from the well to fight the blaze, but it was clearly in vain. Lith, who happened to have found some work on the farm as a harvest labourer, had scaled the adjacent windmill and jumped to the farmhouse roof, where he had torn a hole in the shingles big enough to pull the family out. By the time the men who had run to the nearby villages for help returned, the family had been safe but Lith had been overcome by the smoke in the house and was insensate and barely breathing. Fortunately a certain wizard happened to have been staying at the inn in Bree and had been amongst those who answered the summons for help.
Gandalf was, as was well known, an excellent storyteller, and perhaps it was that rather than the delirium of fever but Aragorn almost thought he could hear the crackle of flames and smell the burning straw and thick smoke as the words wove around him. Gandalf was clearly enjoying embellishing the tale for dramatic effect. Lith rolled his eyes more often than he verbally objected to the elaborations, but the tale achieved its goal of distracting them all from their present hurts. If the wizard did indeed know the significance of giving Lith his new name, he did not make much of it in the retelling, only saying that, though they knew each other well before that event, he had not even recognised who he was reviving at first. The Elf had remained stained with ash and charcoal for days until Gandalf had taken him to the home of a friend to recover.
It was time to move on again, for the day was passing and they were still a few hours from their destination. Standing up on his bad leg was now perhaps even more painful than it had been that morning, so much so that Aragorn finally gave in and took a small pinch of pain-bite when Lith was distracted by a passing deer. The dried herb was bitter on his tongue even though he dared risk no more than a fraction of the Elf's normal dose. Rivendell was near, after all, and then Aragorn would gladly submit himself up to Elrond's care.
They finally set off again, Lith under his shoulder, supporting Aragorn's weight as best he could, and Mithrandir carrying the baggage. Aragorn swayed, dizzy, but Lith held him firm, and they hobbled on. It did not last. The naegranaeth had deadened the pain, but could do nothing for the fever Aragorn could feel burning in his blood and sapping his strength, and when his leg next gave out he could not find the will to get up again. Over his ragged coughs he heard Lith and Gandalf in quiet discussion. Then, before he could even catch his breath, Aragorn was being rolled forward until his front was slumped across Lith's shoulders. The Elf carefully stood, lifting him up off the ground.
'I can walk…' Aragorn began, but Gandalf hushed him.
"I'm sure you could if we wanted this journey to take us until the end of the Third Age. Now, lie still, Aragorn, and let Lith concentrate. You would not want him to lose his balance and pitch you into the canyon by mistake.'
'I will do no such thing,' Lith assured him earnestly, as they began to walk on. 'You are quite safe.' Indeed, the Elf's natural balance and grace meant the additional burden seemed to trouble him little, even with his own arm still unusable and bound to his chest.
Aragorn capitulated and lay still. Though he would have preferred to arrive home on his own two legs, at least he was not insensible this time. Besides, there was no shame in injury, nor in accepting the help of a friend if it put them in no danger to offer it. He quickly found the smooth motion of Lith's steps and the murmur of the others' voices to be lulling his mind, and without meaning to he felt his head fall forward and his eyes close. He drifted into sleep.
Aragorn woke he knew not how much later to the sound of footsteps on stone and Gandalf saying, with a laugh, 'Nay, my good Elf, he merely sleeps. Do not be distressed.'
Aragorn blinked open his eyes and lifted his head to realise he had drowsed away the rest of the journey. They were standing at the top of the road where it sharply turned and plunged down the steep cleft of the Hidden Valley towards the rushing waters of the Bruinen and the Last Homely House. Aragorn turned his head and saw his first glimpse of the spires below, and the beauty of it took his breath away just like every time. Although this time he had less breath to spare than normal.
Three Elves of the inner watch were standing in the road before them. Aragorn read in their expressions concern, alarm, and barely concealed unfriendliness. For a moment he was confused and then he remembered. Lith.
'I believe it to be nothing more than a mortal illness combined with a slight incident with a wolf.' Gandalf was replying to some question, and Aragorn noticed he had positioned himself between Lith and the other Elves. 'A little rest and some of Elrond's poultices and Aragorn will be good as new. There really is no cause for alarm.'
'Put me down,' Aragorn instructed to Lith, but the Elf did not seem to hear him. Lith was looking towards the other Elves and seemed very tense, so Aragorn raised his voice to address the guards instead. 'Nêngelir, Ialla, Leithor; well met. As you can see I am fine, though I have a few rather irritating holes in my leg so perhaps if we could proceed...?'
It was difficult to sound reassuring and authoritative while repressing lung-wracking coughs and being carted around like a sack of potatoes, but Aragorn tried nonetheless. The Elves, who had been looking from Gandalf to Lith and back again, turned their eyes on him instead.
'Aragorn,' Ialla said, and then pointed at Lith. 'It is forbidden-' she began, but Gandalf cut her off.
'My friend Lith was until recently a guest of Lord Elrond, and came and went freely through these lands. I expect you to give him the same courtesy now.' The wizard's affectation of good humour was rapidly vanishing. 'I thought this was the Last Homely House, or has it been renamed since I left four days ago?"
'I will vouch for him if that satisfies you,' Aragorn told the guard. 'Now, if you do not mind, I should like to go home.'
Nêngelir stepped forward. 'We will carry you,' he said.
Lith took a corresponding step back and Aragorn felt his grip tighten.
'No,' Lith answered, shortly.
'You heard him,' Gandalf said to Nêngelir with a shrug. 'No assistance is required, thank you. Now, come along, everyone,' and he marched forward onto the road. The Elves, who either had to move or get a faceful of pointed hat, decided to retreat, letting the group pass. Aragorn saw Ialla whisper something to Leithor and the latter took off towards the house ahead of them like a hare.
The party descended down the road into the valley, weaving through the ancient stands of woods that grew all around, and at last reaching the shores of the river and crossing the line of bridges that took them on towards the house.
'Ah, Mithrandir. What is this?' said a familiar voice as the little group emerged under an archway and out into the main courtyard. Elrond was coming down the steps towards them from the house. A slight smile graced his lips, although Leithor and Erestor followed behind and certainly were not smiling.
'Put me down,' Aragorn said again to Lith, and this time Lith did as he was bidden. He knelt carefully, and Aragorn slid down off his shoulders into an ungainly heap. Lith took his arm while Aragorn gripped the silent Elf by the shoulder and between them they got him up to standing.
'It has been many years since anyone had to carry you home, Aragorn,' said Elrond, coming further down the steps. 'At least this time I am pleased to see you are not insensate. Mithrandir, welcome back.' Elrond then glanced at Lith but said nothing.
Gandalf inclined his head in greeting. 'Lord Elrond, you will be pleased to see my instincts for trouble are as sharp as ever. I'm afraid our Dúnadan has been rather bested by the elements.'
Aragorn made to speak up in his own defence but a fit of coughing overtook him. Elrond looked Aragorn over, consideringly. 'Hmm. I do not like the sound of that cough, Aragorn.'
'That's a shame,' Aragorn answered, weakly, as soon as he could breathe. 'I was up all night practising.'
Elrond raised an eyebrow at the rather pathetic jest and then turned to the wizard. 'Where on earth did you find him, Mithrandir?'
Gandalf smiled. 'They were only about five leagues from here, and doing quite well, but I am glad I was nearby to offer a helping hand. Now, I could do with a bath, and I believe both of these two need a healer's care. They fought off a brôgaraf together, after all.'
'Indeed?'
'My Lord,' said the guard Ialla, hurriedly, and pointed again at Lith. 'That one is-'
'Yes, I am aware, thank you,' Elrond dismissed her, smoothly. 'Leithor has already told me all.'
Elrond then at last turned his full attention on Lith, and Aragorn felt the Wood-elf tense up as Elrond's intense gaze fell on him. The Elf-lord in turn seemed to be studying Lith carefully as if weighing up some consideration.
'So, you have indeed returned,' Elrond said at last. He spoke quietly as if his words were for Lith alone.
Lith said nothing.
'Lord Elrond, I would speak to you,' Aragorn began, trying to intervene on behalf of his friend, but Elrond gave a slight motion of his hand that compelled the man to wait. He studied Lith intently and for once Aragorn did not know what the Elf-lord was thinking.
But to his surprise, instead of hunching up with fear beneath the scrutiny as Aragorn had expected, Lith slowly straightened and stood still beneath Elrond's gaze, meeting the lord's eyes steadily. It was an odd thing to think but in that moment Lith looked poised and certain. Almost regal.
'I believe,' Elrond said at last, looking back to Aragorn, 'that we should see to your injuries before we have any further debate. But I will say now,' he raised his voice so that all who were gathered around could easily hear. 'That any who is not a servant of the enemy is welcome here in Imladris, and will be treated as a guest of this house, with all due civility. Now, come along, Aragorn. Let us see what the damage is this time. You also, Lith.'
As Elrond spoke Lith's name, a ripple of sound, almost a gasp, spread around the Elves gathered in the courtyard. Elrond seemed not to heed it and turned away, heading back up the stairs into the house. Gandalf gave Aragorn and Lith a quick wink before he followed the Elf-lord. At his side, Aragorn felt the tension flow out of Lith like the air being released from a children's leather ball, and his shoulders curled in again as if only now he had received Elrond's approval he was trying to fade from sight.
And then, without further ado, Aragorn found himself being swept onto a bier and carried up into the house. The Elves bore him noiselessly along familiar halls and walkways until they arrived at Elrond's healing rooms and the Elves set him down on a pallet bed by the window. Elrond and his assistants began to lay out the tools of their trade. Aragorn glanced around but found that Lith had vanished. Gandalf, who had followed them, gave his shoulder a quick squeeze and then headed off to track down the missing Elf. Neither of them returned.
It took a few hours for Elrond to complete his treatments. The infection in Aragorn's lungs even Elvish healers could do little for but monitor the fever and recommend rest in the warm and dry. Elrond brewed up a selection of teas and infusions of soothing herbs mixed with honey and rosehip syrup to combat the worst symptoms, and while Aragorn sipped the tea, Elrond examined his other wounds. The cut in Aragorn's upper arm from Lith's bolt was healing well but the wolf bite in his right calf was indeed infected and weeping. Fortunately the tooth punctures were neat and the flesh only torn in a few places, thanks to the protection afforded by his boot. Still, Elrond and his assistants were careful to cleanse and debride the bite thoroughly before the wound could be stitched closed, which was most unpleasant. By the time they were nearly complete, the warmth and comfort of the ward cot, and the lingering numbness of the pain-bite, were taking their toll and Aragorn could feel himself close to falling into exhausted sleep once more.
Elrond had dismissed the assistant healers and was fixing the last dressings in place when Aragorn managed to rouse himself enough to speak.
'I wanted to thank you for permitting Lith to stay here.'
Elrond nodded slowly. 'Well, once I realised that without him you may well be in a wolf's belly, Aragorn, it seemed churlish to deny him at least the barest of hospitality. He has stayed here in the Valley before, after all, and I admitted him then on Gandalf's word alone, although then they managed to cross the border without such a spectacle.'
'I hoped you would let him stay, but did not expect you to use his name.' Aragorn said. 'That you have not done before. I have learned from Lith that his being renamed carries much meaning.'
Elrond pinned the last bandage in place with a blackthorn and leaned back. 'It does. But, just between you and I, acknowledging his name was an impulsive action on my part, and perhaps one poorly thought through. Once you have lived as long as I have, sometimes you must take steps to surprise yourself. But I fear my rashness may have consequences that I cannot yet foresee.' Elrond moved away to wash his hands in a silver basin as he added, 'It is dangerous to shelter him here, no doubt.'
'You do not believe that he presents a danger, though,' Aragorn mused. 'Or you should not have admitted him at all. Do you think instead that some here may refuse your instruction and try to do him harm?'
'Nay. Those who reside here will follow my instruction, of this I have no doubt,' Elrond said. 'They may think me at times eccentric but they will do as I ask; he will not be welcome here but he will not be harmed. As for the reaction from others outside this Valley, that I cannot say. But still it seems to me foolish to abide by the letter of archaic laws when the doom of this age hangs in the balance. If ever there was a time for forgiveness and compassion it is now, perhaps here at the end of our days.'
'True. If the ring falls into Sauron's hands, any prior grievances between his enemies shall seem petty indeed.' Aragorn agreed, and then yawned. Elrond smiled at him.
'Come now, Aragorn,' the Elf-lord said. 'It is time you went to your rest, and as your wounds are not overly dangerous you need not remain here for observation. Now, I am not asking you to breach a confidence, but Mithrandir indicated that your new friend also bears a wound. I trust his condition is not severe?'
Aragorn nodded his head. 'He will keep, for now.'
'Then I shall have Erestor assign him a room and leave him to Mithrandir for tonight.'
Elrond stood aside while Aragorn stood, carefully. With the aid of a pair of light crutches he could walk surprisingly well, though he knew an attendant healer would still be assigned to accompany him back to his rooms regardless.
'Send word if you need more honey-tea before the morning.' Elrond instructed. 'Or if the fever worsens. And tomorrow you will bring your skittish friend to me so I can see what ails him.'
I will, my lord. Thank you.'
'And Aragorn?'
Elrond's voice halted him by the door and he glanced back. The Elf-lord's face bore a look of severity that did not quite reach his sparkling eyes. 'One more thing. Your friend is welcome here in Imladris, by my leave, as long as he wishes to stay and continues to purport himself with good conduct. But please do let him know that if he has an interest in herb craft, I would prefer to teach him their proper use myself before he resorts to helping himself from my stores? Thank you.'
Aragorn slept deeply and long. He finally awoke nearly at noon the following day when the Lady Arwen arrived at his chamber. She came with a tray of soup and white bread, freshly brewed healing teas, a servant carrying hot bathwater, and a lot of questions. Aragorn took the hint and bathed first, being careful to keep his bandaged injury dry, and then the pair ate together on the wide balcony, watching the comings and goings of the household below while Aragorn quietly recounted the events of the last few weeks. As he had expected, Arwen's first concerns were for his health, but he could tell her with complete honesty that he was feeling a significant improvement. The coughing, fatigue and fever seemed to be quickly loosening their grip, and with the aid of Elrond's numbing salves, the pain from the wolf bite had lessened enough that he could rest easily and walk with the aid of the crutches. Within two weeks he hoped the injury would be quite healed, and there would be no need to delay Frodo's quest on his account.
Arwen's next interest was, of course, Lith, though she had not spied him and he was presently nowhere in sight. Despite that, Aragorn doubted there were many in the house by now that had not heard of the events in the courtyard yesterday, when Elrond had accepted the exile into the Valley. The last time Lith had been in Imladris during the Council, few had known of his presence for he had kept to himself until the Wood-elves had denounced him. Just the knowledge that he was once again in the Valley had created a tension amongst the Elves of the household which could not be denied.
Aragorn had assumed, therefore, that Lith would both avoid the house, and resist being located nearby at all costs. With little other recourse until he could track the elusive Elf down, Aragorn had left Lith's night-time dose of pain-bite on the porch table beside the open windows of his chambers, hoping the Lith would find it there if he came seeking his draught that night. Beside it, he had left a note informing Lith of the scheduled appointment with the healers the following day. The man had heard nothing as he slept, but when he woke, the draught was gone, but the note remained and Lith had not reappeared.
Arwen listened to Aragorn's tale with keen interest. 'I know of the Bodadêldir,' she said, when Aragorn asked her what she knew of the lore. 'All Elves have, and I do not think there are any amongst the Eldar who would not recognise the Mark of the Exile.' She brushed her thumb across Aragorn's cheek, the shape of a cross, to show what she meant. He kissed her hand.
'It seems a relic of a darker age,' Aragorn said.
'Perhaps,' she said. 'Or more accurately one could say it is a product of those ages. Criminal acts amongst the Firstborn are rare but not unknown, even now. But we do not now take life in pursuit of justice, however terrible the act. And to be exiled is at least a lesser sentence than many cultures of men would demand. Still, never has an Unnaming occurred in Imladris in my lifetime—thankfully there has never been a crime to warrant it—but once it happened amongst the Galadhrim while I dwelt in Lorien. It frightens me that you travelled with one capable of such deeds for so long. I am glad you are safe, beloved.'
'I was in no danger,' Aragorn reassured her. 'Not from Lith, at least. I do not know why he was cast out, but I would swear that he offers no threat to me, nor to any of good intent. I admit I am perplexed that he could ever have committed such a heinous crime; it seems to me to be the antithesis of his very nature. Your father spoke of Kinslaying but I know no more than that, and I very much doubt Lith would tell me even if I were to ask. He is not forthcoming with information about himself. Indeed, unless it is to point out a fascinating tree or flight of birds he speaks very little about anything.'
'Even those that know of the crime will not speak of it now,' Arwen said. 'It is forbidden to do so once the sentence of exile has been passed.'
'Still, I cannot help but think it cruel,' Aragorn sighed. 'I have only known him a few weeks, but his actions at Tandoliant and after the wolf attack show nothing but a selfless and courageous heart, if one weighed down by isolation and bitter sorrow. I find it hard to think that he could commit so awful a crime as he was accused.'
Arwen gave him a look. 'Did you not say that he shot you?'
Aragorn hesitated. 'He did, yes,' he admitted. 'But only as a warning, I think. He was sore afraid and did not mean to harm.'
'Beloved, you are capable of seeing only the good in everyone,' Arwen said, with a soft smile. 'Even in those that perhaps do not deserve your mercy. I cannot say that I would think the fate of a Bodadêldir an unjust punishment if it were one of my kin which he had silenced forever.'
'Unless it were Erestor,' Aragorn joked. Arwen swatted his knee, lightly.
'Do not jest of such things,' she said. 'Besides, if any were going to murder Erestor, Father would have done it long ago.'
'What happens to the family of a Bodadêldir, do you think?' Aragorn wondered, more soberly. 'If the accused had a spouse or parents? Siblings? Would they also suffer condemnation?'
Arwen shook her head. 'I do not know, but I do not think so. A Bodadêldir is a purging, and thus the exile becomes as one dead to Elvenkind. Their former family would go into Mourning and then once the prescribed ten years have passed, go on as if the Bodadêldir no longer existed. Others would grieve for the community's dead child, as they grieved for his victim. Thus a Kinslaying takes two lives, always.'
She looked out across the valley, her dark eyes thoughtful and sad. 'Perhaps your compassion should be a lesson to us after all, beloved. Now I am forced to think of it, I cannot imagine how it must feel to go on, knowing I shall ever be denied sight of Imladris or Caras Galadhon. To be condemned never even to seek the peace of the Blessed Realm…'
Aragorn sighed, her last words waking in him fear again, although not for Lith this time but for Arwen, and the fate their love condemned her to. For a while they spoke of other things, of the preparations for the quest, and the antics of the hobbits. Aragorn was not surprised to learn that the Elves of Mirkwood had already departed the Valley for their home. The Wood-elves had been the most vocal in their condemnation of Elrond's admittance of Lith to the Council, and although some weeks had passed since, their leader had apparently still threatened retaliation as they had departed. Elrond had seemed unconcerned. It was many leagues to the halls of the Woodking, after all, and time and distance would temper their ire. The Shipwright's emissaries had also departed although some of the Dwarves from Erebor remained still, as had Boromir, son of Denethor, and all of the hobbits. That was good news. Frodo had volunteered to bear the ring to Mordor, of course, and with him would go Sam, but Aragorn had thought that Merry and Pippin may have returned back to the Shire already with messages of warning for their people. It did not seem likely that war would come soon to that land, but should the quest fail and the ring return to the hand of its master, all lands would be covered in darkness and the fall of the Shire would be a terrible, final blow if they were caught unawares. But the cousins had not departed yet, and Aragorn found he had a desire to see them all again.
Arwen accompanied him as they walked down slowly through the house to find the hobbits. Frodo and his friends were pleased to see them both although they were rather shy and flustered by the presence of Arwen. But true to their nature they soon overcame their awkwardness, and Arwen laughed as they showered 'Strider' with affectionate hugs and concern for his illness; word of his arrival into the healing halls by stretcher yesterday had apparently spread. The Ranger assured them that he was well on the way to recovery and would suffer no lasting effects. Rest and a warm bed had indeed done wonders for his strength. For his part Aragorn too was pleased to see Frodo looking hale again as the hobbit had not since Weathertop, though it was clear that the upcoming quest troubled his thoughts.
At length Arwen departed for her afternoon ride, and shortly after Aragorn too left the hobbits to their late luncheon and went in search, once more, of Gandalf. He had promised Elrond he would bring Lith into the healing wards this day, but Lith had not presented himself, and Aragorn had little idea where the Elf would be found. If anyone knew it would probably be the wizard.
While no more prone to gossip than any other folk, Aragorn had heard nothing amongst the Imladrin Elves but whispers about the return of the Bodadêldir. An enquiry with a dutiful but clearly horrified Erestor established that Lith had indeed been assigned guest chambers, as Elrond had instructed, in one of the talan-style rooms set aside for visiting Wood-elves. But when Aragorn limped his way out there, he found the chamber spotless and empty with no trace that Lith had ever even stepped through the door. Aragorn did not yet fear that the Elf had left Imladris entirely. If all the promises of aid and friendship truly weren't enough to keep him here, then the fact that Aragorn still held his only supply of pain medicine probably would be.
Gandalf, when Aragorn found the wizard, was seated on a stone bench overlooking the lower falls where a grove of beeches and maples dropped their last fiery leaves across the stone. The wizard was holding his pipe in one hand, but it did not appear to be lit.
'Aragorn!' Gandalf greeted the new arrival with pleasure as Aragorn hopped his way over with the crutches. "Excellent, excellent. Tell me Elrond has not hidden your pipeweed again. I appear to have been sitting here and thinking for so long that I have quite run out.'
'Elrond gave up confiscating my pipeweed about fifty years ago, old friend,' Aragorn laughed. 'And yes, I have enough here for both of us.'
'You look very much improved,' Gandalf said, with satisfaction, as Aragorn sat and filled both their pipes. 'I wasn't too worried, of course—I know that the Rangers are hardier than the oldest oaks and I have seen you weather far worse than one wolf and some rain—but I think you collapsing on the roadside yesterday rather scared our poor elfling. Although he spends more time around mortals than is usual for Elves in these times, he still understands very little about their ailments.'
'Aye, I am much improved. Some rest and dry clothes, not to mention Elrond's remedies, have done me much benefit,' Aragorn agreed, and then added, 'It is actually in search of Lith that I am here. I know he came by my chamber yestereve but I was asleep and now I cannot find him. He does not seem to have made use of the guestroom assigned to him.'
'I have not seen him today,' Gandalf said, and then gestured out into the tree-lined valley. 'But I know he is close by. It is no surprise that he would avoid the house. I expect he will stay out in the woods until hunger or some other need drives him back to us.'
Aragorn glanced out across the trees with a frown. In between the hundred small silver falls that trickled into the valley, the trees—beech, elm and oak—wound their way along its foot beside the rushing waters, giving way in due course to younger alders, birches and rowans climbing the upper slopes to merge into frosted mountain pines above. The woods looked peaceful and inviting, but for Aragorn, as familiar and freeing as the wilds of nature could be, a bed of branches and leaf-mould was no substitute for a hot bath and warm blankets, not in the middle of winter. Not if there was another choice.
'Lith bears an old wound,' Aragorn explained to the wizard. 'When I was treating it, I promised that we would do all we could to improve its condition. Elrond wishes to see him today to assess the options for healing.'
Gandalf sat back, surprised. 'You have seen Lith's arm, then. I wondered as much when I saw the sling.'
'I have. I treated it as best I could.'
'Well, indeed. That is something,' mused the wizard. 'He has always refused to let me see it, although I am aware how the injury debilitates him. Very interesting indeed. You must have made quite the impression.'
'He did not want to reveal it but the circumstances were far from ideal,' Aragorn explained. He was surprised, as he was every time it happened, to find that there was something the wizard did not know. Certainly, while he seemed familiar with the concept of Lith's injury, Gandalf gave no indication that he was aware of the nature of the wound, of Lith's struggles with constant pain or his dependency on herbs to numb it. Still, as utterly as he trusted Gandalf in all things, these were not Aragorn's secrets to tell, so he merely said, 'The old injury was exacerbated by events at the river. Lith indicated he had never shown the wound to another, although I thought as you had known Lith for some time he might have told you more of it.'
The wizard harrumphed. 'I have guessed much. But no, certain things he still keeps to himself, for all that I know him perhaps better than any.' The wizard might seem to grumble, but Aragorn knew his tone was fond. He cared very much for Lith.
'You knew him before his exile, I deem.'
'I met him once or twice as a very young elfling,' Gandalf agreed. 'As he was before. I was grieved indeed to hear that he had died. Then, some years after his exile, he was brought to me, wild and mute, and I tamed him back to what he is now. You could say I raised him. No, that is not right. I restored him would perhaps be nearer the mark.'
Aragorn nodded slowly. 'I wish to know more of him, to help him if I can. Can you tell me ought of it?'
Gandalf sat back and let a long draw of smoke drift out into the air.
'I will tell you of our second meeting, after he was exiled, but only because I perceive there is a bond between you, and I believe it may prove an important one.'
'So you told me in a dream,' Aragorn said, wryly. 'But I do not yet perceive why.'
'Neither do I,' said the wizard, 'But very well, here is the tale. Some years ago I received word via Radagast the Brown that I was to meet an old friend on the borders of Fangorn Forest at the end of autumn. I did not know entirely what to expect, for it had been some years since I had travelled through that forest and it is a wild and dangerous part of the world, and growing more so each year. Still, I answered the summons, and arrived at the outflow of the Entwash towards the end of September. That I was a little early was no doubt the result of my curiosity, but Treebeard must have been watching out for me, for he appeared the very next day.'
'Treebeard?' Aragorn asked as the wizard paused. 'What manner of being is he?'
'He is a guardian of the forest. Treebeard is of the Onodrim, that men call Ents.'
'A Ent!' exclaimed Aragorn, fascinated. 'Then there is truth in the old legends about the dwellers in the deep forests and the giant shepherds of the trees? I thought them a memory, or no more than a legend of Rohan.'
'Nay,' said Gandalf. 'They are no legend, though even the Elves remember the Old Onodrim and their long sorrow now only in song, for the Ents are far older than they. Indeed Treebeard is the oldest living thing that still walks beneath the Sun upon this Middle-earth.
' "It has been many years, Treebeard," I greeted him. "And though I am never loath to visit your woods, I have to wonder what on earth could be the matter that you would need my assistance?"
' "Hoo, hmm, Gandalf," said he to me, "I am glad that you have come. Birds do not always make reliable messengers."
' "But reach me your message did," said I. "Though I was far away and surprised to receive it. I will do all I can to help, but it has been some months now since I received your summons, and if you needed a wizard, either Saruman or Radagast could have served faster, or better."
' "I needed not so much any wizard as you, Gandalf. I think you are best suited to a problem of this nature, for a sapling has come to root here in Fangorn that does not entirely belong."
'At that moment I glanced up into his branches—Ents are formed rather like to the trees they tend, you see, or perhaps they have merely grown more tree-like over time—and perched high up in his leaves like a bird I saw a very strange creature.'
'Lith,' Aragorn guessed.
The wizard nodded. 'Treebeard lifted him out of his branches like you or I might disentangle a moth from a cobweb, and then the Ent set him on the ground. I barely got enough of a look to determine he was indeed an Elf before he scampered back behind the Ent's great legs, like a startled rabbit into a burrow.
' "Well met, Master Elf," I called to him, though I was rather surprised, for no Elves dwell in Fangorn and the folk of Lothlorien do not go there. "There is no need to be afraid. Come out and greet me."
' "Hoom hoom, he will not answer you, I think," Treebeard said to me. "He has spent too long listening to the speech of trees, the tongue of roots and sap and cool rain on the leaves, that he forgets that he is no tree himself, nor even an Enting. While he has been welcome here, he needs to live now amongst his own kind, and remember himself, or I fear he will come to grief."
' "What is his name? From whence does he hail?" I asked, for these were very strange events and I could not see how it would come to pass that an Elf should end up lost in Fangorn and not attempt to find his way out again, nor any other come to seek him. While we talked, the Elf in question had remained hidden behind Treebeard but then a passing dragonfly caught his attention and he darted after it, seeming momentarily to forget his fear. He stood quite still, studying the insect, which gave me the chance for a better look at him. Seldom outside the captivity of the Enemy had I seen one of the Eldar quite so wretched in appearance, for his feet were bare, his clothes little better than rags, and his hair was a bird's nest. More importantly, he looked to be more than half starved, as if he had been living off nothing but air, acorns and Ent-draught for entirely too long.
' "That we do not know,' Treebeard answered me. "He used to speak a few words now and again, but never has he given a name for himself, a true name or otherwise. And as for where he comes from, hoom. Well, that I cannot say. I guess he came from the woods of Laurelindórenan and perhaps drifted south down the river like a leaf on the stream. I do not know how he came to be lost here, but perhaps you can learn his true home, Gandalf, and take him safely back there."
'"How long has he been here?'" I asked, but Treebeard laughed, a long slow laugh.
'How long?" he said. "We Ents do not keep count of such things, Gandalf. More than one leaf-fall but less than an age of the earth."
'I pressed him, and at last he admitted that it may be more than three-thousand days since the Elf had first wandered into the wild wood.
' "He seems content here, but there is something not right," the Ent said. "Hoo hmm, I cannot put it into words, Gandalf. The Elf-children should be merry, even in these fading times. He has too much sorrow in him; the rot of it goes deep into his heartwood. We Ents have cared for him as best as we are able, but we move and think too slowly these days while he withers away. This elfling needs someone who better understands the way of his people to root out the decay from him before it is too late."
'And so just like that,' Gandalf concluded, with a sigh. 'The Ents gave Lith over into my charge and I had an Elf in my keeping.'
'You did not recognise him then, or know from whence he hailed?' Aragorn asked, looking across the valley, and all its breathtaking, sublime tranquility. Somewhere out there, Lith remained hidden, a mystery still.
'At that time no, although I determined the truth before too long. I deem you yourself have guessed much in your short time together. I did know one thing immediately that Treebeard clearly did not, however, and that was the meaning behind the mark on his face. Lith is not the first Bodadêldir I have known, after all. I did not tell Treebeard so but there certainly was to be no returning this Elf home, for he had no home to return to.'
Aragorn stood and leaned on the railing, pondering the wizard's tale while he looked across the peaceful valley towards the distant beeches. 'I am surprised Lith went with you at all,' he said. 'I have not known him to be free with his trust, particularly towards strangers.'
'He did not remember me at first and was mortally afraid,' Gandalf agreed. 'And I think if I had not had arrived on horseback I might not have been able to at all. But he was quite taken with the beast and permitting the elfling to ride her and care for her was the first slow step in earning his trust. I persevered, and at length he followed me, and I took him north with me on my travels as I worked to strengthen his body and heal his mind, teaching him to speak again and how to think like an Elf or man, how to hold discourse with living things other than trees, beasts and birds. It was not an easy road for either of us as Lith had become fey and feral in the wild woods of the Ents, and he did not love me for uprooting him nor for forcing him to recall what he was. But at long last he was restored enough to himself that he could at least imitate normal speech and behaviour, and pass more or less unremarked in the towns of men. Then we parted ways, for I had my own tasks to achieve and there were many places I could not go with him at my side. We have met again a few times across the years, including the incident with the fire in Breeland that he spoke to you of.'
'You have missed his company, I deem.'
Gandalf sighed. 'I have worked hard and invested much in him, and often he has been nothing but a merry thorn in my side,' he grumbled. 'But yes, he is most dear to me. I would see him restored to joy, though I fear that can never be.'
'How long ago was all this?'
'Not long as Elves would consider it,' the wizard said. 'I believe it was during the harrying of Rohan, the year that Thorongil rode out to war with Thengel.'
'That was some sixty years ago!" Aragorn exclaimed.
'Indeed. And while you and I have wandered Middle-earth that long and more, I fear the years are a far greater burden to one who must spend them alone, rejected by all folk and with no end or relief in sight. I cannot blame Lith for turning away from the world that shunned him and losing himself in the forests. Perhaps it was cruelty on my part to bring him back. Who can say?'
They sat in silence for some time. Distantly, Aragorn heard singing, though it was not the high clear voices of Elves he heard but strong baritones of at least three Dwarves, and after a moment a hobbit or two also joined in their cheerful walking tune. Their voices blended well together.
'I was not aware of much in the few days before we returned here,' Aragorn admitted. 'But I was surprised when I realised you had persuaded him to return to Imladris with us.'
'I almost did not,' the Wizard agreed. 'If you had not been so sick, I think he would certainly have turned back and disappeared into the Wild once more, whatever I said. But you have inspired a fierce loyalty in him, Aragorn, and I do not think he will find it easy to leave again. I urge you,' the wizard said, meeting his eyes seriously, 'to be careful with his friendship and his trust, for both are immensely fragile things.'
'I know, and believe me, I feel in full the responsibility of bearing both. I will do all I can not to fail him, for it is clear to me that his loneliness is eating him alive. This exile, this punishment...how do the Elves expect anyone to bear it?'
'That is simple,' said the wizard. He sounded angry and resigned all at once. 'They do not.'
Aragorn paused. 'How do you mean?'
'Aragorn, consider this. Amongst the lands of men, what is the usual punishment for a crime such as murder?'
'Most laws would impose a penalty of capital punishment. In Gondor murder is punished by hanging: in Rohan, beheading.'
Just so. But the Elves of this age hold it sacrosanct that none can do harm to another of the Firstborn, not even in punishment. Nor would they readily find any Elf of their community willing to undertake such an execution. Thus the lessons of ages past have been learned. So when these laws were broken and the need arose, another, subtler punitive method was devised. Turn the accused out into the wilds, deny him all help and bonds, make sure all those who see him curse him and drive him away...'
'...and wait for the wilderness to take his life,' concluded Aragorn. 'Orc, warg or winter.'
'That is one way, yes,' agreed the wizard. 'But no Elf can easily endure such isolation from their own kind, not for a fifty years, let alone an eternity. The very thought of it is torment enough. And to be denied Valinor too...A lone Elf might survive all the dangers you mentioned easily enough, only to find that despair is no less deadly.'
'You are saying they do violence to themselves?' Aragorn said, as realisation dawned.
'I know of seven made Bodadêldir since the end of the Second Age.' The wizard said as he looked out across the valley. 'Four of those died by their own hand within fifty years of the judgement, and two more within a century. The Elves may claim to be more lofty than men in their dealings of justice, but the Penenith, the Unnaming, is a death sentence too. Just slower, and infinitely more cruel.'
Aragorn thought of the way Lith had thrown himself into the river after the drowning child without a thought. Then just two days later he had stood between Aragorn and the teeth of the wolf. He pictured the way the Elf had laid cold and still and barely breathing after taking too much of the naegranaeth; the tormented look of shame and self-loathing in his eyes when he had given up the herb to Aragorn's keeping. Lith had been standing on a knife's edge this whole time, and none of them had seen it until it was nearly too late.
'You will not tell me who he was,' Aragorn said at length. 'Before he was Unnamed?'
The wizard looked at Aragorn, carefully. 'No.' he said. 'But, consider—he has shown you alone what they did to his arm, and I deem you will not tell me of that.'
'No,' Aragorn agreed. 'I will not. But I think you understand why.'
'I do. His trust is a very precious thing. Besides, he will not show me because I think he is afraid that I could not control my anger if I saw it.'
'And would you?' Aragorn asked. 'Control your anger, that is.'
'Did you?' Gandalf countered. Aragorn gave a little smile.
'Not entirely. I did have to go and express some of my sentiments on a nearby log pile with an axe after I had treated him. But I think I have calmed myself well enough that I would not feel the need to put an axe to one of those that passed that judgement if they were here now.'
'Then you were the right person for him to trust,' said Gandalf. 'With that truth, and with others too. Between you and I and Lord Elrond, I hope we can do enough to bring him some measure of peace.'
'Then we must be swift about it,' Aragorn said. 'For November is nearly over, and the ringbearer cannot halt his departure indefinitely. By Yule the company departs, and with it must go you and I. Lith will be left behind once more.'
'Our time indeed runs short,' Gandalf agreed. 'In this, and all things.'
The end.
So ends Part 1 of "A fire shall be woken."
Lith and Aragorn may be safe at last in Rivendell, but many challenges lie ahead and everywhere are secrets still to be revealed. The first chapter of Part 2 will be arriving next week.
Those who have access to AO3, I have added an additional chapter to the cross-posting there (under the same pen-name) comprising an author's note discussing Lith's age. It may be of interest!
Thank you all for your interest and comments in this little tale. I've really enjoyed writing it though it has been a challenge, and knowing folks are enjoying reading too makes it all worthwhile. I hope you'll join me for Part 2.
