Mud! Mud! Glorious mud

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Mud! Mud! Glorious mud!
Nothing quite like it for cooling the blood.
So, follow me, follow, down to the hollow,
And there let us wallow in glorious mud. - Michael Flanders -The Hippopotamus Song.

~~~

Apart from his head, Aragorn lay totally submerged in the tub, which seemed to be filled with a thick gooey substance that looked as unpleasant as mud scraped from the bottom of the Anduin!

“After our recent experiences, I probably have as many scars as you do, so it seemed sensible we should both be treated at the same time.” Aragorn explained, looking somewhat embarrassed at the strange spectacle he knew he must be presenting to his Steward. “Hurry up and undress, the water will get cold.” Aragorn said, trying to sound reassuring. ”The bath is plenty big enough for three or four, never mind two.”

“I know, Boromir and I would be allowed to bathe together here sometimes, when were both very young. I remember how we liked to play with our toy boats in the water.” Faramir said, starting to ramble to cover his discomfort. “It was such hard work for the servants to carry the buckets, we would save them the trouble of doing it twice.”

“Come on then, or the mud will congeal. You will have to undress or it will not work. You would have your clothes stuck hard to your skin!” Aragorn lifted a mud-encrusted arm from the depths, to emphasise the point.

“What is that stuff?” Faramir enquired.

“It is a special mixture of salts distilled from the hot springs at Rivendell, quite harmless and clean, despite appearances. Whatever would Éowyn say if you changed your mind now? ”

Aragorn’s tone was more teasing than commanding but the Steward knew better than to disobey.

Faramir slowly started to pull off his outer layers of clothing. A painful memory resurfaced of his father coming into the bathing chamber and taunting him over how puny he was compared with his brother. It must have been well over twenty years ago, but the humiliation had haunted him ever since. Now, another lord stood in his father’s place in this same room.

He undressed down to his drawers and stood shivering at the top of the steps, his arms crossed over his chest.

“Come on!” Aragorn coaxed, “I thought you would be more comfortable if we did this together. I would still need to be with you if we went in separately, since you have no knowledge of the Elven treatments. I assure you there is nothing to fear, it will sting a little at first, but after that feel quite pleasant. I am sorry to spring it on you like this but feared if I told you what the treatment entailed, you would never agree. I will not order you, but it grieves me to see you in constant pain when this would heal you." He studied the stylised pattern depicting the White Tree surrounded by stars, giving Faramir a moment to consider his choice.

Faramir looked down at his heavily scarred chest and shoulder and sighed deeply. “Very well then,” he conceded, “I know I am being foolish.” Mentally, he berated himself. Aragorn had always treated him with kindness and compassion.

Aragorn studied the stylised pattern depicting the White Tree surrounded by stars.

Faramir let his final garment slip to the floor. Taking a deep breath, he slid into the bath and crouched down in the mud. To his surprise, Aragorn was correct, the mixture felt quite pleasant.

“Good, you have joined me!” Aragorn smiled encouragingly, only looking at his Steward once he was partially submerged in the mud. “ Sit on the bottom of the tub and lean back, you need to be completely submerged apart from your head. I fear it will sting somewhat. You may feel a drawing sensation, which will soon pass. Take deep breaths and try to relax.”

Faramir obediently leaned back. The scarred areas of his flesh felt as if salt were being rubbed into a raw wound. He gasped and felt the King’s comforting hand placed on his shoulder, until the pain subsided.

After a few moments had elapsed, he suddenly thought how odd they must look, almost like two disembodied heads. Rather to his surprise, he burst out laughing.

“What is so funny?” Aragorn enquired. Faramir rarely laughed and he had not expected him to do now. 

“We must look like two pig’s heads in a cooking pot!” Faramir chortled.

Aragorn suddenly saw the image clearly in his mind’s eye and burst out laughing too, the sound echoed merrily around the tiled chamber.

They lapsed into companionable silence. Faramir discovered once the stinging sensation subsided, he actually felt quite comfortable. The mineral rich mud was warm and soothing. They could hardly have been more covered, were they swathed in blankets!

Once the mixture started to cool, Aragorn said, “We must get out before it goes cold and sets with us in it!”

“I was enjoying it!” Faramir sighed, much to the King’s amusement.

 I told you it was not as bad as it looked did I not?” he grinned.

“As always, my King was correct!” Faramir teased.

“I will get out first.” Aragorn said. “This was just the first part of the treatment. There is a robe for you to put on, so when you are ready, join me in the other room.”

Clothed in clinging mud, Aragorn exited the bath.

 Faramir reluctantly climbed out of the relaxing bath, donned his robe and followed Aragorn into the adjoining bedchamber.

 “What do we do now?” Faramir asked, when Aragorn settled himself on the vast bed. ”Will this robe not stick to my skin?” He looked at it doubtfully.

“You have no need to worry, it is on top of the mud now,” the King explained, gesturing Faramir to sit beside him. “Just try to relax, while the servants clean away the mud and fill the bath with fresh water.  You may feel rather light headed, which is to be expected, but it will pass before the clean water is ready.”

Aragorn lay back and closed his eyes. This was probably the most uncomfortable part of the treatment. The mixture now felt tight as it dried against his skin. His head had already started to spin. Faramir was faring no better.

This will soon pass,” Aragorn reassured his Steward, “As soon as you feel steady enough, drink some water. This treatment drains away impurities from the body.”

Faramir slowly reached for a cup of water, which had been placed conveniently on a table near the bedside.

“How long will it take?” he asked.

Another hour or so,” Aragorn replied “Elvish treatments tend to be rather slow as Elves have an eternity to carry them out in! ”

Faramir pulled his robe closer as the servants bustled to and fro carrying buckets.

The tub was laboriously emptied and cleaned before being refilled with clean water.

“I think our bath is ready now.” Aragorn said as he sat up, stretching his long limbs as luxuriously as a cat. He helped Faramir to his feet. After ascertained they were both free of any light-headedness, they returned to the bathing chamber.

 “Just plunge straight in now and rinse off the mud,” the King told him. He demonstrated by pulling off his robe and climbing thankfully into the clean water.

Faramir followed, this time forgetting his shyness at the weird spectacle he and his equally mud covered sovereign presented. “I wonder what my father would have said if he could see us now? We look like a pair of Uruk Hai in his bath!” Faramir laughed.

“Not for much longer!” Aragorn chortled, ducking his Steward under the water. Faramir emerged spluttering and promptly dunked the King in return. They guffawed like two schoolboys at the absurdity of it all.

Aragorn climbed out first, swiftly wrapping himself in some of the towels left by the servants for that purpose.

Faramir then left the tub, did likewise and followed the King into the next room.

Faramir’s towel slipped a few inches. He glanced down at his chest only to be disappointed to see that the scars remained.

“It has not worked!” he lamented sadly. “The scars look no different.”

“You would not make a good Elf, you are in such a hurry!” Aragorn teased. ”We need to apply a special salve made from rosehips next. It will take about three days to fade the scars. They will not disappear completely, as we lack the healing ability of the Eldar, but they should fade eventually to near nothingness and will not pain you any longer.”

He slipped on a fresh bathing robe on over his towel and picked up the jar of salve. “Lie on the bed and let me see the scars. This may sting a little!”

Faramir did as he was told and lay down on his back, discarding one towel, while draping the second round his hips. Aragorn smeared his fingertips with a strange smelling, orange hued ointment and rubbed it sparingly into the scars across Faramir’s chest and shoulders.

The old wounds suddenly felt very raw and Faramir had to grit his teeth at the stinging sensation the ointment produced. He then felt a soothing warmth from Aragorn’s fingertips, which lessened the discomfort considerably.

” Now turn over and let me treat your back,” Aragorn said.

Faramir gritted his teeth again and took deep breaths until Aragorn announced.” You can dress now. I have left some suitable garments on the chair for you. Be careful not to bathe the scars for the next few days. You might itch or feel slightly unwell but that means the treatment is working.”

Faramir found loose undergarments of softest linen and a loose fitting velvet robe laid out for him. While he was dressing, Aragorn started applying the salve to the almost healed wounds across his chest, legs and belly. “These would only upset Arwen if she saw them.” he said.” I cannot say I have any wish to be reminded of Fennas and Calardan for the rest of my days.”

Faramir could only marvel at how well the King endured the stinging ointment.

Aragorn rolled over to lie face downwards. “Will you apply the salve to my back, please?” he asked.

Faramir hesitated. “I am no Healer,” he said doubtfully. “I might hurt you.”

“I chose you to do this rather than someone from the Houses of Healing as I trust you to do it well,” Aragorn assured him.

“I would never let you down, mellon nîn,” Faramir replied picking up the jar to do his friend and Lord’s bidding, thinking as he did so that this was all Aragorn had needed him here to do. It had been yet another act of kindness to undergo the treatment alongside his Steward, rather than merely administering it.

As the salve stung, Aragorn instinctively wriggled away.

“Keep still!” Faramir ordered in mock indignation, “Or do I have to fetch Éowyn to do it!”

Aragorn laughed, pondering on just how much things had changed over the past weeks. His original plan may have gone almost fatally awry, but it had succeeded very well in loosing his Steward’s fear of him.

“Stop wriggling!” Faramir ordered sternly. “You are making this very difficult!”

Aragorn grinned; he was enjoying seeing a different side to his Steward and discovering the essence of the young man who was becoming like a son to him.

To be concluded

~~~