These Characters are the property of the Estate of J. R. R Tolkien and New Line Cinema. This story has been written for pleasure and no profit has or will be made from it.

The story has now reached its third section and events are moving towards a potentially tragic climax within the next few chapters.

Crying in the Night

Four weeks later

It was now almost mid November and Aragorn was growing increasingly despondent.

Éomer’s wounds had healed well and his broken ribs and skull had knitted, but his sword arm still hung limp and useless at his side. He continued to blame Faramir for his misfortunes and became increasingly embittered, as he struggled to learn to control his spirited mount, Firefoot one handed. In battle, a rider would control his mount with his feet, but Éomer felt off balance with his useless arm. Aragorn begged him to be cautious, for a fall could have proved fatal while he was still recovering from his injuries. He refused to consider returning home by any other means than astride his warhorse.

Aragorn and Éowyn pleaded with him to try the Elven treatments, but Éomer would have none of it. By now he was attended almost exclusively by Aedred to whom he had taken a liking. It worried Aragorn that the King of Rohan’s refusal to accept his Elven treatments could leave him with a weakened skull, which would make riding hazardous forever after.

Far worse though, for the King, was the continued estrangement between himself and his Steward. He sent messages almost every day asking to see him, but back always came the reply saying; “The Steward of Gondor thanks his King Elessar for his concern but has no wish to trouble him”, which Aragorn felt bound to accept, given the wrong he had done him.

He had only seen Faramir a few times during the last weeks when they had spoken about official business and always in the presence of others. Although Faramir was not well enough to attend the Council, he still insisted on having documents sent to him to work on. Aragorn had noted that Faramir still looked far from well, but if he preferred that Éowyn should tend his wounds, who could blame him?

Aragorn was broken hearted at the loss of his friend due to his own folly. Almost every time he closed his eyes, he recalled the moment when he had ordered his Steward’s arrest and the look of anguish in Faramir’s eyes when he had been led away to prison. This vision was always followed by the even more horrific memory of discovering Faramir being beaten almost to death.

Only the loving support of Arwen and delight in his infant son, combined with the extra workload of running Gondor without Faramir’s help, kept him from crumbling under his burden of guilt.

What should have been the happiest time of his life, following the birth of the child he had longed for almost seventy years, was deeply overshadowed by the knowledge that he had all but destroyed his closest and most loyal friend’s life and the bond between them as well.

Almost every night he was plagued by nightmares in which he was holding Andúril and with it decapitating Faramir ignoring his pleas for mercy. He would awaken in a cold sweat from the dark dreams in need of Arwen’s comfort. He was grateful that Eldarion’s hungry cries often roused him from his troubled sleep.

Éowyn often visited the Queen, but almost always when she knew Aragorn would be occupied with Council meetings.  She saw no improvement in Faramir’s condition and was tormented by anxiety, yet was loath to question the King. Obviously he cared very much about Faramir and she was well aware there was no finer healer to be found on Arda. As she had sent the letter which had led to her husband’s injuries, she felt she could hardly complain about Aragorn’s efforts to put right what her own folly had caused!

Arwen too, was worried about Aragorn, perceiving his increasing weariness and distress.

The King had found the duties of State almost overwhelming; Faramir was too ill to deal his usual share of the paperwork and despite Imrahil’s help, he found most of his time was spent reading official documents. He had never quite realised before just how much he relied on his Steward.

The Council had also been especially demanding, as some members, especially those who had served in Denethor’s time, were still demanding action against Rohan to avenge the attack on their Steward, demands which Aragorn staunchly resisted, ignoring their angry murmurings that the Stewardship and thus the honour of Gondor had been insulted.

By a cold night in mid November, Aragorn was so exhausted; he had fallen asleep almost as soon as his head touched the pillow.

Arwen sang to him softly, smoothing his furrowed brow with her slender fingers to keep the nightmares at bay. Once satisfied he was resting peacefully, she tiptoed out of bed to assure herself all was well with Eldarion and then settled down to sleep beside her husband.

A few hours later loud banging and shouting outside their bedroom door startled the royal couple to sudden wakefulness.

“You cannot disturb the King. It is two in the morning!” the guard outside the door protested.

“He will see me!” Arwen’s keen Elven hearing recognised Éowyn’s voice.

“It is Éowyn, something must be wrong!” she exclaimed, climbing out of bed closely followed by her husband.

Donning his robe over his nightshirt, Aragorn opened the door of the chamber and was horrified to see a distraught looking Éowyn being restrained by his Guards.

“Let the Lady Éowyn enter!” he ordered, dismayed to see her obvious distress.

Eowyn would have collapsed, had Aragorn’s strong arms not caught her. Her blonde hair hung in disarray round her shoulders. She had obviously come in haste, for she appeared to be wearing only a nightgown with a cloak flung over it.

Aragorn noted with dismay that the formidable lady of Rohan looked exhausted, vulnerable and at a loss. Despite her advanced pregnancy, she appeared to have lost weight and her beautiful features were lined with worry.

Aragorn guided her to sit beside his wife on the bed who immediately drew her close in a comforting embrace. The King lit the candles and poured a glass of Miruvor for their nocturnal visitor.

“Éowyn, whatever is wrong?” he asked. His eyes were full of concern as he held the glass to her lips.

“It’s Faramir. I’m so worried!” Eowyn answered, the words pouring from her in near incoherent haste, “I cannot awaken him from his dark dreams. He seems hardly able to breathe; he is so distressed! I’m sorry to disturb you, but I thought you were the only one who could help him. He is in constant pain. He won’t let me see how his wounds are healing. I am afraid for him; it is as if his heart is broken! I try to comfort him but he shies away from my touch, even refusing me a good night kiss! It is worse even than when we were first married! He spends each and every day shut away in his study, refusing to come out. I had to plead with him to continue to share my bed but he sleeps as far away from me as he can. If you ever loved him or me, I beg you to come!”

Having finally poured out her troubles, Éowyn burst into tears. Arwen held her close, while Aragorn soothingly rubbed the back of her neck.

“I am glad you come for me.” Aragorn said gently, moving away from Éowyn as she relaxed. He went into his dressing room, leaving the door slightly ajar. “How often has he has been like this?” he enquired.

Éowyn sighed. ” Almost every night that I’ve shared his chamber, since he had the fight with my brother,” she replied. “I thought it would wear off, but he grows worse rather than better and I am more and more afraid for him. I fear he may lose his mind as his father did! He hardly eats and his sleep is so troubled he can find no rest. He refuses to talk to me or to confide in anyone. Imrahil has been to visit him more than once, but Faramir claimed he was too tired for visitors each time. He has even lost interest in our child, when before he was so happy at the prospect of becoming a father. He would lie in my arms, then in that shy way of his, ask if he could feel it moving within me.” Sighing, she settled back against Arwen. It was such a relief to finally tell her friends everything.

Aragorn emerged from the dressing room, fastening his breeches over his nightshirt. “Why did you not tell me this before?” he asked, his expression grave. “There is yours and your child’s welfare to consider too.”

“I thought you knew much of it already. He told me he had business with you most days and I knew you were treating his injuries when you saw him,” Éowyn replied in complete bewilderment.

“He has been sending his secretary, so I have not seen him for a while. I would have liked to, but he made it very clear he had no desire to see me.” Aragorn looked aghast, as the realisation dawned.

At that moment Eldarion awoke and started crying.

“I am sorry but I will have to feed him.” Arwen said, getting to her feet, giving Éowyn a final reassuring hug. “We have hardly seen Faramir these last weeks. I thought you were caring for him, though. Aragorn has been so worried he has hardly slept.”

“He is excused from the Council until he is well and has not sought me out.” Aragorn said sadly. “It troubled me, but I thought he might be angry with me over what had happened and who could blame him? I was giving him time to recover but I realise I was wrong not to insist on seeing him. I will come with you and see him now.”

“Let us go quickly!” Éowyn begged, “He can hardly breathe and is so pale!”

“Stay with him as long as is needed,” Arwen told her husband, as she settled herself back in bed, unlacing her nightgown in preparation to feed her child. “I am here if you need me, Éowyn.”

Aragorn anxiously accompanied Eowyn to the Steward’s apartments. He blamed himself bitterly now, for not following his instincts and insisting on tending his Steward personally, yet Faramir had been so adamant that his wife could care for him. The King had felt he needed time to recover from the injustice he had involuntarily done to him. Now it seemed that Faramir instead of gradually recovering might have become seriously ill due to his neglect.

TBC