Chapter Twenty-Two - Calm Between Two Storms

A warm bundle negotiated itself into the small cove that Dídauar's tucked body created and whatever it was burrowed into Dídauar's chest, seemed be cajoling her into embrace it. Dídauar tucked tighter as the creatures hair tickled her chin and neck, resulting in the creature being drawn closer to her which appeared to satisfy whatever was trying to gain her attention as they settled. Dídauar sluggishly woke to take stock of the intruder, primarily to find out whether she needed to beat a hasty retreat or whether she could stay asleep for a few more hours. She smiled when she was presented with an untidy mop of raven hair and a black uniform, bedecked with fine Mithril stitched seams, which clothed all but the creature's hands, head and feet.

"So you are a silver-and-black?" whispered Dídauar, as she negotiated her free arm under Pippin's body so as to properly embrace the Hobbit.

"A what?" asked Pippin as he turned his face up to Dídauar's.

"A Guard of the Citadel," elaborated Dídauar. "The uniform you wear is very distinctive."

"I was a Tower Guard," said Pippin. "But Denethor released me and then he killed himself so I don't know what I am now."

"Once a silver-and-black, always a silver-and-black," replied Dídauar. "What time is it?"

"Here or in decent places?" asked Pippin. Dídauar chuckled lightly.

"Have you been denied a meal?" she asked. Pippin nodded, looking most put out.

"The people here have never heard of elevenses let alone second breakfast!" pouted the Hobbit.

"So it is about ten o'clock?" guessed Dídauar. Pippin nodded.

"Lunch is in about two-and-a-half hours," he reported. "Merry can have all the food he wants, when he wants, but I have to wait for a bell!"

Dídauar burst out laughing at the disgruntled look on Pippin's face which only served to increase the Hobbit's displeasure. Dídauar however felt a lightness about her heart that had been missing since news first reached her that the Ring had been found.

"Thank you Pip," she said through a smile. Pippin canted his head in question.

"What for?" he asked.

"For reminding why I fight," replied the Ranger. "And for showing me that hope still exists."

Pippin continued to look confused but travelling with either Aragorn and/or Gandalf for the last six months, had taught him that not everyone spoke as plainly as his own people. Instead he fished in one of his pockets and withdrew the tokens that Dídauar had given him in Rohan. Dídauar started when she realised what she was being shown.

"Why do you still have them?" she asked.

"Nobody would take them," Pippin said as he held the charms out to Dídauar. "Denethor thought you were dead and told me to remember you with love and honour. Faramir took them to start with but gave them back when he rode out to Osgiliath. Said they were too precious to lose to an Orc."

Dídauar smiled gently as she moved into a seating position, dislodging Pippin as she did so. Kicking back the blankets that covered her, Dídauar found herself dressed in an long sleeved, off-white coloured shift that fell to her ankles. Muttering about the inappropriate attire – at least as far as she was concerned – she held her hand out to Pippin. Pippin quickly placed the charms back in her hand and clambered off the bed. It was as she stood up that Dídauar realised her surroundings had changed.

"Pip, which room is Faramir in?" she asked.

"Four doors right," replied the Hobbit. "You aren't going to visit him are you?"

"Is there any reason I shouldn't?" asked Dídauar as she hunted around for her leggings. She found them folded neatly on a chair along with the rest of her clothing. Pulling her arm out of the sling, she began to negotiate her legs into them, while retaining some level of decorum around the young Halfling.

"Strider says you were to stay in bed for at least another day," replied Pippin.

"And he will be straight back here if he hears that I actually followed such advice," replied Dídauar.

"The old medicine woman might have something to say about a female being alone in the room of the Steward's son," added Pippin.

"Who said I would be alone?" asked Dídauar picking up her shirt. "Pip, turn round for a minute."

"I still don't think they would approve," said Pippin, doing as he was bid.

"As I said, Strider will be worried if I agree to stay in bed and Ioreth has been a medicine woman longer than Faramir has been alive," replied Dídauar. "She wouldn't approve if I went with the entire Gondorian Council hiding in my shadow. However, as a medicine woman she must agree that keeping patients in isolation will not speed up the healing process."

"The entire City will know of your visit by sundown if she finds you," cautioned Pippin. "Gandalf says she has a very loose tongue."

"She does have a habit of over explaining a point," Dídauar chuckled. "But why use one word when ten can convey the answer more precisely? And there is nothing wrong with a warrior visiting another on his sick-bed. You ready?"

"Aren't you going to put anything on your feet?" asked Pippin turning around again. Dídauar shook her head and ditched the shift on the bed.

"They need a rest from being encased in leather," she said. "And since no one has provided me with house slippers, I'll just have to pretend that I'm a Hobbit."

"Too tall," said Pippin matter-of-factly. Dídauar chuckled once more and made for the door, stuffing her charms back into her pocket as she went.

"Maybe I had that extra drink of Ent-wash," she said. Pippin's eyes widened at the comment.

"How did you find out about that?" he demanded, going slightly red as he remembered his bargaining with Treebeard to have "just one more mouthful" of the drink he had given them on their first night in his home.

"Ioreth is not the only one with a loose tongue," grinned Dídauar.

TTEOARTTEOAR

Faramir was sitting listlessly by the window of his chamber when Dídauar arrived. He gave a grunt of response when Dídauar knocked against the doorjamb to announce her arrival. It wasn't until she sat down in front of him and gathered his hand in hers that he glanced up.

"My Lady?" he questioned, confusion warring with the lethargy in his eyes. Dídauar gave a small pained smile.

"Always one for formality, little one," she said. "But that was not the title you gave me the last time I was here."

When Faramir continued to look confused, Dídauar reached into her pocket and withdrew the wooden tokens and held them out to the young Captain. Faramir dropped his gaze to the trinkets and blinked. He reached out to finger the objects only to retract his hand as though he was defiling something sacred. Dídauar continued to hold out the charms.

"Faerlain?" Faramir asked in amazement, his gaze flicking back up to meet the Dúnadan's eyes. "Oh, I am truly dreaming now. First the King is returned and now a hero of old is sitting in my chambers."

"If it is a dream, then it is a good dream," replied Dídauar gently. "And one from which you will not wake."

"How is so much death a good dream?" asked Faramir.

"Gandalf said that death isn't all that bad," piped up Pippin. "He said that a curtain of this world is pulled back and that we see a white shore and green fields under a golden sunrise."

Dídauar and Faramir smiled at the Hobbit who had still managed to retain some of his innocence despite the horrors he had seen. Both had heard the same explanation before, though it had been Glorfindel that had given it to Dídauar and Imrahil who had given it to Faramir.

"Death is a part of all our journeys, even for the Elves, but it is still hard to let the dead go," said Faramir. "Especially when they are kin."

"But it does their memory an injustice if we remain in the shadows and refuse to accept their gift of one more day under the sun," said Dídauar. "Are you fit enough to go for a brief wander around the gardens?"

"Would it matter that the warden said I was to stay?" replied Faramir with a small smile.

"That does not answer the question I asked you," replied Dídauar as she stood up.

"Yes," said Faramir, his smile widening slightly. "Let us hobble around the flowerbeds like the incapacitated beings some would have us believe we are. Master Halfling are you coming?"

TTEOARTTEOAR

"How go things in the City?" asked Aragorn as Imrahil, along with Éomer, the Elven twins, Gandalf and other Captains of the West met in his tent that afternoon.

"The people are beginning to piece together what they can of their lives though many are shattered with the loss of the men folk. The Council are already fighting over how the country should be run and we are yet to be free of Sauron and the men are restless," reported Imrahil. "And Faerlain is causing problems in the Houses of Healing. Again."

"Pardon?"

"She still has difficulty understanding the term 'bed-rest'," smiled the Prince. "She and Faramir, along with the raven-haired Halfling, have spent the last few hours in the gardens, much to Mistress Ioreth's displeasure."

"And mine. I told the warden that they were to remain abed till such time that their bodies had rested!" exclaimed Aragorn. Imrahil continued to smile.

"It was their shoulders that were injured not their legs," he said. "And while Faerlain disregards the advice of the healers when her own health is the subject, she does not play roulette with that of others."

"I know," sighed Aragorn. "I just wish she would learn that such advise is not given simply for the sake of it."

"I think you would have better luck asking the sun to stop its path across the sky," said Gamling with a relieved smile. Aragorn smiled weakly.

"At least I know she is healing," he said. "Which is well as I plan to ride again in two days."

"You cannot be serious!" exclaimed Elrohir. "You have just had to pull her from the grip of the Eternal Halls, you cannot be asking her to ride out with you!"

"You are miss understanding me," said Aragorn. "Knowing that Kalya is healing, I feel less guilty about riding out as the Crown of Gondor will not be left unclaimed should I not make return journey."

"And you counselled others against such negative thoughts," chided Imrahil. "I highly doubt you will have been allowed to make it this far, survived unfurling the banner of the King, only to fall at the final hurdle."

"But why should we ride out to meet him?" asked Éomer. Aragorn turned an astonished gaze to the new King of Rohan.

"Your pardon?"

"Sauron is not so foolish as to give up his fight simply because he has lost a Nazgûl," said Éomer. "Why do we not simply wait and have him meet us on the field again?"

"Because we do not have the strength to fight the army the Sauron could mass if we allow him to dictate the terms of battle," replied Elladan.

"And Sauron will have examined the signs we are leaving behind us. He may not be able to leave his confines of Barad-Dûr but his spies are still abroad. He will know of the re-forged sword that once robbed him of his power. He will notice the banner of the King flies once more. He cannot have failed to notice fortune turning against him and he will still be angered by his defeat on Pelennor," elaborated Gandalf. "He will have his suspicions as to the meaning of the signs but doubt will continue to gnaw at him. He will not make a move until he is certain of his answer and we must use that time if we are to hold out hope of a victory."

"And how do you plan on gaining his attention?" asked the Lord of Alfalfas. "The last I checked the Black Tower did not have a front door, nor Sauron a door ward."

"His attention is already fixed on us. On the threat that he perceives us to be posing. For the first time since news of his Ring's discovery, he is concerned with something else, so obsessively that he is blind to all else that is moving," replied Gandalf.

"But you say we do not have strength of arms needed to assail him in battle once more!" protested the Lord.

"I was once told that this war would not be won by strength of arms. That is times of greatest peril, it was the forgotten that deserved the greatest credit," said Aragorn.

"Ah, so you do listen to your sister," chuckled Gandalf. Aragorn sent him a disparaging look but the wizard shrugged it off.

"It is not a victory that we ride towards," said Aragorn. "But if we keep Sauron's eye fixed upon us long enough, then others may have a chance to give us the freedom and peace we so badly crave."

"Then why don't we do as Lord Éomer suggests. Let us simply sit here, or at Dunharrow, or Dol Amroth," sneered the Alfalfas Lord. "You say his gaze is fixed on us anyway, why waste valuable men just to test Mithrandir's theory."

"You have sat like children on sandcastles with the tide coming in long enough!" snapped Aragorn. "For too long did Denethor perceive but fail to act. For too long did you sit by and allow your country to fall further into ruin as he fell to despair and not one of you, save Imrahil, sought to ease his burden."

'Estel, losing your temper on the eve of battle is not a good idea,' cautioned Elladan gently. Aragorn took a deep breath before continuing his statement.

"We have a chance to turn the fortunes of this war in our favour," he said in a slightly calmer voice. "We do not ride to a victory for ourselves, but we can give Frodo a chance to complete the task he was set."