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.

A Rudely Interrupted Bath

The Queen drew back the curtains to allow the weak November sunshine to enter the chamber.

Éowyn awoke to the sound feeling much better, though she had no idea why that should be. Before falling asleep she had felt it was unfair that she was keeping the King and Queen apart. She was planning to ask Arwen today if she would keep Elestelle with her while she returned to her own rooms and was worried how her friend would react

Arwen was singing a soft melody in Elvish. She looked even more beautiful and serene than usual, clad in a loose scarlet robe, embroidered in silver. The more time that Éowyn spent with her, the more convinced she was that her previous dreams of marrying Aragorn had been sheer folly. No other couple that she had ever known complemented each other more perfectly than Aragorn and Arwen. They were the highest and noblest beings she had ever met and also the most caring and humble.

A baby’s crying could be heard from the cradle at the foot of the bed. Arwen always brought Eldarion into her room while she slept.

The Queen went to the cradle and lifted out not Eldarion, but Elestelle. She was about to unfasten her robe to feed her then changed her mind and brought her over to Éowyn. “You try.” she said gently.

“You know I cannot,” Éowyn said sadly, “I think it best that you should keep her for a while, she is thriving on your milk.”

“Just try, I can feed her if you are still not able too,” Arwen coaxed, “She needs her mother far more than she needs me!”

More to please the Queen than from any hope that she would succeed; Éowyn unlaced her nightgown and put Elestelle to her breast.

Today the baby looked much stronger. Éowyn felt an unexpected surge of love towards her. This was her child, hers and Faramir’s and despite being born too early, was she not the most beautiful babe?

Elestelle gurgled contentedly. To Éowyn’s amazement, she was suckling and her tiny lips were coated in milk!

Tears of joy ran down Éowyn’s cheeks. She was actually nourishing her babe!”

“I knew you would be able to! You just needed to relax,” Arwen exclaimed in delight. She had no idea whether it was the herbs, all the massages she had given Éowyn, something that would just have happened naturally, or Aragorn’s healing that had worked, though she strongly suspected the latter. She kissed her friend affectionately on the cheek and then went to ask her maid to bring them some breakfast.

When Faramir came to visit Éowyn an hour later, he was delighted to find her lovingly cuddling their daughter while she sang a Rohirric lullaby.

**

Aragorn continued to treat Faramir’s hurts twice a day with healing, massage and salves and was delighted at how quickly his damaged ribs were knitting together and the bruises were fading quickly too.

His heart would still need time to regain its former strength and the wasted muscle on his arm would probably require months of healing massage. Faramir seemed untroubled by this. The King had a strong suspicion that his Steward was rather enjoying the treatments, which for his part, were a joy to administer to such a willing and grateful recipient. Only the knot of painful scar tissue just below Faramir’s ribs continued to worry the King. He spent hours pouring over Lord Elrond’s healing texts trying to decide what best to do.

He concluded that cutting it out was the very last resort. Such a procedure carried a dreadful risk of infection, as well as being a mutually harrowing experience. He could not in any case, attempt it for months until Faramir's heart was strong enough to withstand the procedure. It sickened him to think that Faramir’s attacker could have ground his boot into him with sufficient force as to inflict such damage. He was determined that he would be most severely punished for his cruel crime.

After much deliberation, he concluded that although it was probably going to be agonizing, Faramir needed the Elven scar treatment as quickly as possible to try and repair the damage both inside and out.

**

As for Éomer, he was almost recovered apart from his paralysed arm and had announced his plans to return home very soon. He still refused to see Faramir or Elestelle, despite Aragorn’s repeated requests. Éowyn had not seen him since her child was born and had not been well enough to approach her brother.

**

A week later, Faramir, leaning on his cane and accompanied by his wife, made his way to the bathing chamber. The Steward was as eager as the King to get the Elven treatment for his scars over with quickly, although he was nowhere near as apprehensive as he had been the first time.

The King had told him that the mud bath would also help any scarring he might have inside, but warned the experience might be very painful. As a former soldier, Faramir was accustomed to bearing pain bravely, but was weary of it after so much in these past months. He felt much stronger now, thanks to Aragorn’s abilities but knew he would still be frail for a while yet.

Éowyn accompanied him to the bathing chamber, curious to see the mud bath for herself. When they arrived, the large sunken bath was already filled and Aragorn, dressed in his oldest clothes was tipping the special powder in and waiting for it to fully dissolve.

“You didn’t exaggerate then!” she exclaimed, “I am sure I would find something more pleasant if I scraped it from the river bed! It looks just like what Éomer and I made mud pies with when we were children. Still, if works like last time, it will be well worth it! Arwen is looking after Elestelle and expecting me, so I will go and leave you men to play in the mud!” She gave her husband a fond kiss and left him to his ordeal.

Faramir looked at the mud bath rather doubtfully, the thick mixture looked very unappetizing. “If I remember rightly, I must be completely submerged?” he asked, wondering if he would sink into the mixture and be unable to get out again.

“Yes, apart from your head. You need to resist the temptation to emerge when it touches your wounds.” Aragorn said. “I will go and wait in the bedchamber ready to apply the salves for you. I have left you a robe and a towel here by the tub.”

“I would rather you stayed.” Faramir said impulsively, “Please, if you do not mind?”

“Of course.” Aragorn smiled understandingly, “Would you like me to come in with you too? The mixture has health giving properties, even when one is not scarred."

“Thank you.” Faramir started to undress. “That is so kind of you.”

“I will just fetch another robe then. It will be easier this way, as I would get covered in mud in any case, hence my oldest clothes!”

While Aragorn was gone, Faramir quickly finished removing his clothing, draped a towel round his waist and hobbled to sit on the edge of the bath.

When the King returned with another robe and more towels, he was likewise attired. Aragorn climbed into the bath and sat down, though he kept his arms out of the mud.

“It is nice and warm, come on!” Aragorn coaxed, holding out a steadying hand as Faramir tried to hobble down into the bath.

Much to his annoyance the steps defeated him.

Put your arms on my shoulders. I have you. Peace, mellon nîn, you are quite safe, I will not let you fall!” Aragorn soothed.

The King bodily lifted him into the tub much to Faramir’s shame. He marvelled at the King’s patience with him.

The Steward was prepared for the harsh drawing sensation as the mineral salts seeped into the scars on his arm and back but was unprepared for the wave of agony as the mixture started to permeate his chest and even worse, his belly. A cry involuntarily escaped his lips as he instinctively tried to press his hands over the worse hurts but Aragorn grasped him and held his hands away from his body.

“I know it hurts, but try to bear it, it should help you to heal. Try not to clutch at your injuries, you need the salts to penetrate them rather than your hands.” Aragorn told him. “By the time I count to a hundred, the worst will be over.”

The King was right and the agony subsided to a dull and barely noticeable throb. Aragorn released him and he leaned back at the far side of the tub and flexed his limbs, which was easier that the thick mixture suggested.

“Watch out, you kicked my ankle!” Aragorn laughed as he stretched his own long limbs. The mud bath was quite pleasantly relaxing once one became accustomed to it and they were both far more at ease with each other since the Thought Bond.

Faramir leaned back and closed his eyes as he adjusted to the strange environment. He could almost learn to enjoy it.

Aragorn suddenly tensed as his keen hearing detected a sound from the outer room. He groaned inwardly, thinking Éowyn’s curiosity had enticed her to return. Fond though he was of Faramir’s wife, he did not relish her seeing him here, for though the mud covered him decently enough, he looked less than dignified. If she saw him and Faramir like this, her teasing would be well nigh unbearable! He nudged Faramir. ”I think Éowyn has been unable to resist seeing how we look covered in mud!”

Faramir groaned as the door opened. However, it was not his wife who entered but Éomer.

TBC