Aragorn finished stitching the long, diagonal sword cut and laid a pad of clean linen over it, then gestured for the orderly to lift the patient so he could wind the long bandage around his chest to hold the dressing in place.

The Gondorian surgeon jittered behind him “Your grace should not be doing this.”

Aragorn glanced back, the quicksilver gleam of his deep eyes faintly luminous in the dim light. “Why not?” finished he rose and rinsed his hands in the bowl held by another orderly. “You are short handed here, and I was a healer long before I was a king.”

“You have always been King, my lord, if unrecognized.” the patient wheezed as the orderly made him comfortable.

Aragorn gave the man one of his flashing but fleeting smiles. “Perhaps so. But my duties as healer never conflicted before, and I see no reason why they should now.” He looked back at the surgeon, eyebrows rising. “Do they not say in Gondor the hands of the King are the hands of a healer?”

The man bowed resignedly and continued his rounds. Smiling inwardly Aragorn looked down the line of beds in the long fortress gallery they’d turned into a field hospital. All seemed to be in order. Perhaps it was time he was about his other duties. Then he saw not one but two familiar figures at the far end.

The wounded soldier fell silent as Aragorn approached and Tal-argan, sitting by his bed, turned his head. “King Elessar?”

“Yes. I am glad to see you here, my friend. Not all wounds are in the body, especially when fighting such a foe as this.” then Aragorn glanced at Frodo, standing silent behind aged Elf’s stool. “What are you doing here, Ringbearer?”

“Tal-argan needed some one to guide him, he doesn’t know this part of the fortress.” Frodo answered, speaking softly.

“These halls were built after my time here.” the Elf agreed.

Aragorn looked at Frodo thoughtfully. He himself would not have chosen to bring the Ringbearer to a place so full of pain. But Tal-argan was far wiser than he in the healing of wounded spirits. No doubt he knew well what he was doing.

The King laid a hand lightly, briefly on the Elf’s shoulder. “Thank you for coming, there are many here in need of your kind of healing.” then he turned back to the Hobbit. “See he doesn’t overtire himself, Frodo. Sometimes our friend forgets there are limits to his endurance as well.”

Tal-argan snorted. “I was fighting battles -and tending the wounded after - before the Fathers of Men saw the light of day, whippersnapper!” Aragorn laughed softly and moved away down the gallery.

Frodo wished Strider hadn’t called him ’Ringbearer’. Nobody had paid him much attention till then, but now he could feel furtive glances and not quite hear the whispers as the news spread from bed to bed. He kept his own eyes firmly on Tal-argan’s back, reminding himself to watch for signs of weariness. It was unexpectedly pleasant to be the caretaker for a change rather than the object of everybody else’s care and concern.

He tried not to listen to what the Men told Tal-argan and what he said in return, recognizing that it was intensely personal and private. He distracted himself by musing over the clue the mysterious Elf had given him. If Tal-argan had fought battles before the Fathers of Men were born he must be very old indeed, born during the Age of the Trees. But was he a Noldor exile or a Sinda? The latter seemed more likely, as the Sinda were famous singers. But was his story one Frodo might know from old songs, or one never told? Morgoth had taken many Elves captive and held them in bitter slavery until they were released by the Host of the Valar, had Tal-Argan been one of them?

He watched his charge carefully and when the broad shoulders began to droop called a halt. Of course Tal-argan protested but Frodo would have none of it and concluded the argument triumphantly by citing the King’s command.

“Maybe you’re not Aragorn’s subject but I am.” Frodo said crisply. “He told me to not to let you overtire yourself and I’m going to do as he said. Besides it’s time the Men were asleep too. We’ll come back tomorrow, after you’ve all had a good rest.”

Tal-argan’s lips twitched but he bowed his head in submission and allowed himself to be led away. Frodo had held him by the left hand as they went down, but now he took the right and felt an odd bumpiness. As they emerged into the bright, lamplit gallery of the royal apartments Frodo turned the hand he held over and saw the palm was scored with an intricate network of fine scars, thin lines forming a circular pattern.

“What’s this?” he asked.

Tal-argan smiled. “An old wound, long healed.”

“I can see that, but what made it?”

“My sins.” he answered.

Frodo looked sharply up at the Elf’s face, but saw only his normal serenity. “Sins don’t usually leave scars.”

“Don’t they?” Tal-argan asked. And Frodo, remembering his own missing finger, asked no more. But he wondered.

Tal-argan had a small room opening off the herb court. Frodo saw him to it and settled on his bed before closing the door gently behind him and going to join his companions for supper.

Aragorn, Gandalf, Sam and Legolas were already seated at the round table in the dining room off the same gallery as their bedrooms. “Where’s Gimli?” Frodo asked climbing into his own man-sized chair.

“I’ve sent him on a mission to Erebor.” Aragorn explained.

“Oh.” Frodo smiled at Legolas. “I’m surprised you didn’t go with him, the two of you are practically inseparable these days.”

The Elf smiled ruefully back. “I did offer but Gimli felt my presence might be regarded as an intrusion by his people.”

“Most Dwarves don’t feel towards Elves as Gimli now does.” Gandalf observed. “Nor do most Elves feel as Legolas now does about Dwarves.”

“At least one Dwarf.” said Legolas.

When Merry and Pippin came in they had two Men with them; a plainly dressed soldier with a look of Aragorn about him and a tall leather clad man with long golden hair.

“This is my Lord Eomer, King of Rohan.” Merry said introducing the latter to Frodo and Sam.

The Man bowed. “I am honored, Ringbearers. All the West owes you a debt that can never be repaid.”

Sam blushed but Frodo answered with a composure that surprised even himself. “Thank you, my Lord, but we had a great deal of help from all the Free Peoples. And I owe you for your kindness to my kinsman Meriadoc.”

Eomer laughed. “Nay Sir Meriadoc has done such service to the Mark as to leave us deeply in his debt - and in yours for bringing him into our land.”

Merry was almost as red as Samwise. “That will do, sir! and you too Frodo. We’re here to eat, not exchange courtesies till morning!”

Eomer laughed again and took the chair Merry pulled out for him.

“And this is my friend Beregond.” said Pippin. The soldier bowed silently and took a seat besides Pippin, somehow managing to efface himself while sitting in plain sight - just as Aragorn could.

“Where’s Gimli?” Pippin asked as servants brought the food.

“I have sent him to the Lonely Mountain to speak with Dain on my behalf.” Aragorn explained again.

“Goodness!” said Merry. “That’s quite a trip. It’ll take him forever to get there and back.”

“I expect him back within the month.” the King said. “He agreed to ride.”

Legolas, Merry, Pippin, Eomer and even Beregond all smiled at that. “Poor old Gimli!” said Merry.

“Poor horse, you mean. And poor whoever he’s traveling with!” said Pippin.

“I leave myself tomorrow to harry the retreating Southrons.” said the King of Rohan, after the laughter had died down. “But I could not miss this chance to pay my respects to the Ringbearers.”

“Thank you.” Frodo said again. Glancing at Merry he thought he caught a slightly wistful look on his cousin’s face. “You will be taking Meriadoc of course.”

“I should like nothing better.” Eomer answered promptly. “But he asked leave to attend on you Ringbearer which I was glad to grant.”

“And Sam and I were glad to have him.” said Frodo. “But we’re pretty much recovered now and I think it’s time Sir Meriadoc returned to his proper duties.”

“But -” Merry began, astounded.

“But nothing.” Frodo interrupted firmly. “I’m feeling much better now and I’m tired of being cosseted and coddled - and so is Sam. Aren’t you, Sam?”

His gardener nodded emphatically. “I can’t say I like being treated like an invalid now I‘m on my feet again. Grateful as I am to you all for taking care of Mr. Frodo and me when we were so sick.”

“Right. And that goes for you too, Pip - Sir Peregrin Trollbane I should say! - you’re the King’s esquire and I’m sure Aragorn has things for you to do.”

“I do indeed. If the Ringbearers can spare you.” the King said promptly.

“Well...if you say so, Frodo.” Merry said doubtfully.

“I do.” his cousin said firmly.

The two younger Hobbits looked at Gandalf. “If Frodo and Sam say they feel well enough to do without further nursing we should take them at their word.” the wizard said. “King Elessar and King Eomer have need of the services of all their knights.”

“So that settled that.” said Frodo, with visible satisfaction.

***

“This is a very good sign indeed.” Gandalf told Aragorn later, after the Hobbits had gone to bed. “At last Frodo begins to assert himself again, his lethargy has been broken.”

“By Tal-argan.” said Aragorn with a smile.

the wizard nodded. “Yes. It was a wise decision to bring him here. Frodo isn’t out of the woods yet, but he is better. Much better.”

“I begin to hope for a full recovery.” said Aragorn.

Gandalf frowned, troubled. “I hope for it also - but it may be too much to ask.”

****

Tucked securely into bed Frodo frowned at the carved beams of the ceiling. His missing finger was due to his great sin - but it had been Gollum’s teeth that inflicted the wound. What could make so strange a mark as Tal-argan bore, like a tiny circle of net had been burned into his palm?