These characters all belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien and New Line Cinema. This story was written purely for pleasure and not for profit.

The Fateful Letter

Imrahil jumped to his feet and grabbed Éowyn’s arm when she appeared poised to strike again. “Lady, it is treason to strike the King!” he cried, outraged at her actions. “He risked his own life to save your husband!”

“Let her go, I deserve her wrath!” Aragorn said wearily, still reeling from the blow. He tried to wipe away the blood running down his face. “None could ever blame me as much as I blame myself! Leave her be!”

Released from Imrahil’s grip, Éowyn bent over her husband and pressed a kiss to the bluish tinged lips She clasped his limp hand. ”Faramir, my love!” she cried, but he had lapsed back into unconsciousness and could not hear her.

Tarostar hastened to Aragorn’s side and fussed round the King, pressing cold compresses to his bleeding nose and lip. Too weary to protest, he submitted to the ministrations patiently.

“Your nose is fortunately not broken, my lord, but I fear you will have a swollen lip for a few days.” Tarostar pronounced, glaring at Éowyn.

Éowyn knelt by Faramir’s bedside sobbing quietly and continuing to call his name.

After a few moments, she felt more composed and steeled herself to more closely examine his injuries. Uncovering him again, she prodded an especially nasty looking bruise on his belly, trying to ascertain for herself how severe his injuries were.

Although virtually insensible, Faramir moaned in agony and jerked away from her touch.

Aragorn hurried to Faramir’s side and held his hand over the spot until the Steward quieted and then tucked the covers round him again.

“Will you leave us, please?" he asked Imrahil and Tarostar. ”And Master Tarostar, you and Master Aedred should rest now, you have been here many hours. Please request two other skilled healers from the Houses of Healing to come and replace you while you get some sleep.”

“You should rest too, my lord,” Tarostar suggested.

“I will as soon as I am able.” Aragorn told him. “Now I wish to speak to the Lady Éowyn alone.”

They both looked doubtful at leaving the King with the Steward’s enraged wife, but did as they were bidden.

Aragorn led the now subdued Éowyn to a chair.

“How badly is he hurt?” she asked. “Tell me the truth! I can see for myself that he is very ill.”

“It is impossible to tell for certain.” Aragorn told her sadly. “He has sustained sword cuts, a flogging and a beating, all of which could have caused more damage inside. His lungs and limbs are sound, the only broken bones are several ribs, but I fear his heart is damaged and most likely his kidneys too. Also he has lost a great deal of blood and is in deep shock, as well as running a high fever.”

“Will he live?” she demanded in her usual direct fashion, though her eyes were full of fear.

Aragorn looked her directly in the eye. “I do not know. His fate is in the hands of the Valar. I will do everything within my power to save him, though.”

“So you ought to, as this is all your fault!” Éowyn snapped, looking as if she was considering striking him again. “Men! I turn my back for a few hours to help your wife bring new life into the world and then learn that my husband and brother have tried to kill each other! Then for some reason you send my poor husband to prison as if he and Éomer hadn’t damaged each other enough already!  However could all this have happened? I demand to know everything!”

Aragorn had not intended to show her the letter and risk distressing her further at the moment. It seemed though, unless she knew the whole story she would continue to rage at him. He was too weary to argue with her any more, as well as not wanting Faramir to be disturbed by raised voices.

Sighing, he retrieved the crumbled and bloodstained letter and handed it to her to read, while began bathing Faramir’s face and neck again.

The colour drained from Éowyn’s face. Aragorn rushed to her side to prevent her from falling.

“Easy now,” he soothed, leading her to the couch and gently rubbing circles on the back of her neck, an Elven remedy to calm the patient.

“I wrote this six months ago,” she murmured brokenly. “I was angry when Faramir told me we were to go to the Hunting Lodge. I even thought you were planning to make me your mistress with his contrivance.  I falsely believed ill of you both then. I placed the letter amongst Faramir’s papers, meaning to send it to Éomer later. When we returned, I was going to destroy it but I couldn’t find it. I assumed it had been thrown away.”

“The new secretary!” Aragorn said grimly, ”Faramir told me that he was always tidying papers away. He must have found this and sent it to your brother.”

“I am sorry. It is my fault Faramir is hurt you are not to blame. I should not have struck you.” Éowyn looked up at the King, her eyes brimming with tears.

“The letter only led to the fight with Éomer, not to Faramir’s serious injuries.” Aragorn replied, now understanding far more about what had happened.

Knowing Éowyn’s share of the blame, in no way lessened his own feelings of guilt, though. As King it was his responsibility to have stopped the fight and to have made his instructions clearer that Faramir was merely to be arrested for his own protection.

 He placed a comforting arm around the distraught Éowyn.

“What have I done?  I have killed my husband and almost killed my brother!” Éowyn wept, looking sadly at the still figure on the bed.

“They still live and may yet recover!” Aragorn tried to sound more hopeful than he felt. “I know you never meant any harm to come to either Faramir or your brother.”

“I was so unhappy a few months ago, but I only wanted Éomer to take me home.” Éowyn said more to herself than to the King. “Then everything changed and I realised how much I loved my husband after all, and that you were always a good friend to us both. I was overwhelmed at your goodness when you forgave me and told me you wished me to attend the Queen when she gave birth. Arwen!  All this almost made me forget! I am supposed to be with her!”

“I am sure there must be a way around the rules so that you can be permitted to leave Arwen to be with Faramir,” Aragorn replied, “The law was never intended to keep a midwife from her sick husband!”

Leaning heavily on Aragorn’s arm Éowyn made her way back to the bedside and stood despondently looking down at Faramir.

“You are far more use to him than I am at the moment, you have healing powers beyond anything I can even understand,” Éowyn replied, “You saw how he groaned when I touched him, I know I am not gentle enough to care for him at present. It is best that I stay with Arwen, as I promised I would. I think Faramir would want that too, but I beg of you to fetch me at once if there is any change or he asks for me.” She bent and kissed Faramir tenderly, murmuring, “I am so sorry, my love!”

Aragorn nodded his agreement. Having experienced her none too gentle ministrations himself, he knew she was right and until Faramir was conscious, there was little she could do. “I will have you fetched at once if you are needed,” he promised. “Please do not tell Arwen yet how badly Faramir is hurt, though. Today should be a joyful occasion for her”

“As it should be for you and Faramir too! How can he ever forgive me for what I have done? How can anyone forgive me for my foolishness in writing that letter?” Éowyn reproached herself. She slowly moved away from the bed.

“I already have.” Aragorn said quietly, as she made her way towards the door, ”I beg of you to think now of your unborn child and try not to fret over the letter. You could not have known what would happen. Now go and take care of my wife and son, they will have need of you before Ioreth drives Arwen to distraction with her tongue!”

Éowyn turned for a final look at Faramir and then managed a wan smile before returning to the Queen.

Alone with Faramir, Aragorn buried his face in his hands and wept. This should have been the happiest day of his life; he had finally become a father after so many years of waiting. Arwen was well and the future of his line was assured; yet how could he rejoice when it seemed that Éomer might be permanently paralysed and Faramir hovered between life and death due to his folly?

Faramir started to move restlessly and moan at the pain it caused him. Wiping away the tears, Aragorn mixed up more herbs to try and ease his friend.

TBC