Chapter Twenty-Four - Say Farewell For Goodbye Is Permanent
Dídauar remained in the Houses of Healing for another day, flitting mainly between her cousin and Faramir. Both men were healing though neither rate of progress seemed to satisfy the healers who insisted that they remain within the establishment. Since neither man had the physical strength to cope with more than a brief walk in the gardens, Arahael barely being able to answer the call of nature without some form of support, they didn't put up much of a fight. Dídauar however, healed surprisingly quickly. Admittedly her wound was still held closed by stitches and her energy levels were far from what she was use to but by dusk of the second day after Pelennor, she was fit enough to be released from the healer's charge. Unsurprisingly, Éowyn was most perturbed by the decision, especially since she was forced to remain.
"Éomer will not be impressed if he finds you in another battle," said Dídauar, seating herself beside the Rohirric Lady and gathering up her free hand. "He has enough to worry about without having to guard his sister's back."
"I do not need anyone to watch my back," snapped Éowyn. Dídauar gave a small smile.
"I have said the same thing since I was seventeen years old," she said. "It has yet to stop my family trying to protect me."
"At least they let you fight!" said Éowyn as she scowled at the Dúnadan. Dídauar continued to smile gently.
"There wasn't much they could do to stop me," she said. "But this is one battle I will have to miss and honestly? I am glad of it. Too much blood has already been spilt by my hand, I do not wish to shed any more."
"Then why are you a warrior?" asked Éowyn. "Why do you insist on following your brother and why are you leaving for the camp?"
"I am a warrior because it is the easiest way to protect my people. It is not my nature to sit by and let other's bare the pain and sorrows that should be mine. I lost my father when I too young to even remember his face because he tried to protect his wife and children, I refuse to lose others the same way when I can protect myself. I follow my brother for the same reason you followed yours. Because you love him, unconditionally, and would do anything to keep him from harm. And I am leaving for the camp so that I may spend one more night with him before he rides out. If you wish it, I can have Éomer join you this night."
"I wish you luck with that one," sighed Éowyn. "He has spent every waking moment with the men preparing for battle."
"There are certain advantages to being a young boy's hero," said Dídauar. "If you wish it, I do my best to make it happen."
"Isn't coercion unbecoming of a Princess?" asked Éowyn.
"I am the last person you would call a Princess," replied Dídauar. "And it would not be coercion. I would simply be telling him to spend time with his sister before he rides out once more. Do you wish him to come?"
Éowyn nodded emphatically.
"Then he will come," said Dídauar, gripping the hand she held before standing. "I will speak with you tomorrow."
"Tomorrow," repeated Éowyn as Dídauar moved off. "My Lady?"
Dídauar turned, a small smile still gracing her features. "My name is Dídauar. Or Faerlain if it be your desire to call me such."
Éowyn flushed. "Thank you," she said simply. "My uncle once spoke of you being like a beacon of hope to our people. I can see that he spoke true."
"I am no Sorceress, Éowyn," Dídauar said. "I cannot give people what they do not already have."
Aragorn sat in the middle of his tent, staring at the trodden earth beneath him as he absently chewed on the mouthpiece of his pipe. Before him lay the Elessar – the green stone that had been left in Lothlórien for him by Arwen – and the Mithril ring that Elrond had given him. The two objects, one metal, the other precious stone, glinted in the light from the fire contained within a brazier that was used to heat and light the tent. He vaguely registered the breeze that the opening of his tent flap caused but since no one demanded his attention, he didn't look up.
Dídauar stood before the entrance, quietly studying the man that had been her Chieftain since they were toddlers, whether they had known it or not, and who would soon be her King, officially crowned before a cheering people of Gondor. The standard of the King would soon be fluttering proudly in the wind along side the banner of Gondor as the crown was placed on his head and a white blossom would swirl about him, imitating the snow that Gondor rarely saw, except at the highest mountain peak. It had not been her mind that had shown such an image but that of her Rohirric champion; Eadwig. As he lay dying from the horrific stab wound to his side, he had spoken of his dream and just before the last breath had escaped his body, Dídauar had promised that she would do everything in her power to make the dream become reality. Now, such completion was within their grasp.
"You are thoughtful," she said, chuckling gently as Aragorn looked up startled.
"Kalya?" he whispered. Dídauar nodded, smiling at the completely bewildered look her brother was wearing.
"You are looking at me the same way you did Lindir's white hair the first day you saw him," Dídauar said, walking forward to crouch before Aragorn.
"You're up. No bandages. Out from under the hawk-like gaze of the healers. Healthy," replied Aragorn. "The last time I saw you, you were pale, mostly unresponsive, your entire left side was covered in swathing."
"My left side is still bandaged and my shoulder is held closed with thread," said Dídauar. "But other than that, I am fine. A little tired, but that is easily cured. To be honest, I think the healers wanted rid of me as quickly as possible."
"Imrahil did say you were causing problems," rejoined Aragorn with a smile. Dídauar looked nonchalant.
"All I did was sit and talk in the gardens. And everything was decided by whoever I was with," she replied.
"When I ordered bed-rest," said Aragorn, crossing his arms.
"Hey, they knew the orders as well as I did. I didn't force anybody," protested Dídauar, removing her weapons and depositing herself properly on the ground before her brother, her ankle and thigh muscles beginning to complain about the position they were in.
"How is Arahael?" asked Aragorn.
"He's coping. Just," replied Dídauar. "He is in so much physical discomfort at the moment that I don't think his emotional pain has been allowed to be expressed."
"I am not surprised considering the damage the scimitar did to his chest," remarked Aragorn, retrieving the Elessar and twin-ring from the ground. "I take it he at least is taking the order for bed-rest seriously?"
"He doesn't have an awful lot of choice," said Dídauar. "He can barely make it to the bathing chamber without support. He is spending most of his time sleeping; side effect from the pain suppressants that are floating around his blood."
"At least he will be safe," sighed Aragorn. "I tried to dissuade Tarcil and Culas from following me tomorrow but both are adamant that they are following where I lead. I even have Pippin riding under my banner! Six months ago he would have balked at the idea of war or black riders and most likely have called me a drunken fool if I spoke of Orcs or a lidless flaming eye, yet I had him down here during dinner demanding that he be allowed to ride. Said something about fighting for Faramir. Can you shed some light on that?"
"He is a Tower Guard," explained Dídauar. "Apparently he swore to repay the debt of Boromir's life to Denethor by offering his sword. Denethor accepted and while he was released from office hours before Denethor killed himself, Pippin still sees his debt as unpaid and wants to continue fighting for Gondor."
"I suppose the fact Merry already has a battle honour to his name has nothing to do with his decision?" inquired Aragorn.
"Not that he's told me, but I did hear them arguing as to whose armour was better and who had the more heroic tale to tell when they return to the Shire," remarked Dídauar, snatching the pipe from in between Aragorn's teeth and tipping out the cinders.
"Hey!" yelped Aragorn with mock annoyance. Dídauar grinned as she held the now empty pipe out to Aragorn.
"No smoking around the wounded," she said matter-of-factly.
"So now you are wounded?" said Aragorn raising an eyebrow.
"I never said I wasn't injured," said Dídauar still offering out the pipe. "I am just not as incapacitated as Ioreth would have everyone believe."
Aragorn chuckled as he snatched the pipe from his sister and buried it in his pack before turning a playfully menacing gaze on Dídauar which instantly had the younger twin worried.
"Estel what……" she began only to squeak in surprise as Aragorn lunged at her, making sure that most of his weight collided with the right side of her body and that it would hit the ground first. Keeping his arms wrapped around his sister, Aragorn rolled onto his back, dragging Dídauar with him. As Dídauar rested her weight on her healthy arm to glare down at the Chieftain, Aragorn raised a hand to her cheek, running his thumb across the cheekbone just below her eye as he looked at her in wonder.
"Something is different," he said.
"With me?" Dídauar asked, cocking her head. Aragorn nodded in confirmation.
"There is a peace about you that I never thought I would see again," he said. Dídauar stared at him. "You are smiling, laughing, joking when only a week ago you could not bare the sight or sound of frivolity."
"I……" began Dídauar but couldn't actually think of how to continue. Aragorn smiled and wrapping his arms back around Dídauar, rolled them so the younger twin was once again flat on the ground.
"Don't try and explain," he said. "It isn't special if you can explain it."
As Dídauar smiled up at him, Aragorn reached over to the pallet that constituted his bed while camped on the Pelennor and pulled the blankets from the end. Gripping one end and throwing the rest of the material up to release the folds, he settled it over Dídauar who instinctively lifted one edge to her brother. Aragorn gladly took the offer and quickly, the twins arranged themselves into a familiar and welcome position – Aragorn on his back with both arms wrapped tightly around Dídauar who was curled halfway across him. Ignoring the fact that there was a pallet that could easily have held them both but a few feet away, the heirs to Gondor fell quickly into a sleep that was both deep and peaceful.
With the morning came a difficult parting. All around the camps, both Dúnedain and Rohirric, men were gathering weapons, saddling horses and eating a hasty breakfast. Whether they expected this was their final parting or not was never voiced but the twins remained close to each other from the moment they woke. About an hour-and-a-half after dawn, Gandalf arrived in the camp bearing Pippin before him on Shadowfax. Behind the wizard had followed Imrahil and his Swan-Knights and five-hundred men of Gondor, the banners of Dol Amroth and Minas Tirith fluttering proudly in the wind. Soon the banner of a white horse joined those of Gondor as the Rohirrim army moved into rank with their southern comrades. Imrahil and Éomer strode towards the twins who stood just outside the tent they had shared the previous night, the elder man saluting the pair.
"Let this be the hour in which we draw our swords together," said Éomer as he gripped Aragorn's forearm in greeting.
"The King rides again at last," said Imrahil. "Already we have hope."
Aragorn smiled gently in thanks, his voice choked in his throat as he looked around at the men that were prepared to follow his banner, most likely to their deaths.
"This is who you were born to be," said Dídauar. "The blind faith of your men has already won half the battle."
'Be here when I return?' whispered Aragorn, switching to Sindarin. Dídauar smiled and fished out the ring that hung about her brother's neck, along with the Elessar stone.
'Keep these with you and you will return. Look for me on the field of Cormallen at noon of the eleventh day,' she said. Aragorn grasped her hand briefly and dotted a kiss to her forehead. Dídauar reciprocated the gesture before pulling away.
'Namárië, nan lû i agovaded vîn' she said and with a final smile she turned on her heel and fled. Éomer and Imrahil stared after her in amazement. (Farewell, until next we meet)
"From what does she flee?" asked Imrahil.
"Watching kith and kin ride to where she cannot follow," replied Aragorn as the Elven twins approached, leading both their own mounts and Roheryn.
"It is time," reported Elrohir, his face set in an unreadable mask. Aragorn nodded once before swinging himself on to Roheryn's saddle. Éomer and Imrahil quickly returned to the head of their vanguard where their own horses were held in readiness. Moving himself to the head of the combined armies, Elladan and Elrohir slipping into the ranks of the Dúnedain, Aragorn gave the order to ride.
It was the beginning of the end.