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 tasks are done and the tears are shed.
Yesterday’s errors let yesterday cover;
Yesterday’s wounds, which smarted and bled,
Are healed with the healing that night has shed.

Sarah Chauncey (Susan Coolidge) Woolsey (1845–1905)

Faramir tensed as soon as his belly was touched with the damp cloth. He was trembling slightly. He finally dared to glance down only to discover that the skin around his waist was a vivid hue of orange. From his angle of vision, it was hard to see whether the swelling had gone down or not. He knew the Elven treatment worked miracles with scars. That it could cure something that resisted even Aragorn’s healing powers seemed too much to hope for.

“Do you plan to cut the scar tissue out today, if it is still there?” Faramir asked, a feeling of near panic welling up within him.

Aragorn shook his head. ”No, I would wait several months until you have fully recovered your strength,” he said gently, beginning to wash away the dried ointment.

Faramir was sweating slightly and looked agitated.  Aragorn placed his hand over his Steward’s heart, which still beat strongly, but far too swiftly. The King hoped it was only because he was uncomfortable and apprehensive.

After so many months of the scar tissue being so painful, it was hard for Faramir to imagine otherwise. He tentatively dabbed at his belly with the towel Éowyn handed to him. He was not looking forward to being prodded at all.

“I should like to give you a thorough massage if you are agreeable?” Aragorn suddenly announced, leaving both Faramir and Éowyn looking surprised.

“I thought you would want to examine him today and see if his hurts were healed.” Éowyn sounded bewildered.

“I do, but in Elven fashion!” the King replied. Master Elrond had taught him many years ago how the Elven massage could be used as an accurate diagnostic technique as well as for the more usual healing and bonding. Time was perceived differently by the Eldar, who considered it perfectly reasonable to spend hours using soothing massage techniques to tend their injured.

Aragorn had not even breakfasted, nor yet spent any time with his wife and son this morning. Afterwards, a good deal of paperwork awaited him. All those things could wait this morning. Faramir deserved to experience the full benefits of his Elven training. The King could only know for certain if the scar tissue were healed if the Steward were relaxed enough not to be anticipating pain.

“A massage sounds delightful!” Faramir sighed, the tension already visibly ebbing away from the thin body.

“Lie down on your side then, and I will start with your back,” Aragorn instructed.

Faramir settled against the pillows for the promised massage.

Éowyn seated herself on the bedside chair, unable to resist the urge to watch. The magic Aragorn could work with his hands fascinated her. No matter how hard she tried to learn, her efforts were very clumsy by comparison.

Faramir was now totally limp, the last vestiges of his pain and stiffness melting away under the King’s blissfully soothing fingertips.

It was almost as blissful for Aragorn to be confronted no longer by the evidence of Mahrod’s cruelty and his own folly. Faramir’s skin appeared undamaged, as did the flesh beneath. He had healed so well that it was hard to believe the vicious beating had ever taken place.

Faramir’s arm was another matter, though, for although the scarring had disappeared, the muscle had visibly wasted. “Does your arm pain you at all still?” Aragorn enquired, his skilful fingertips kneading the muscle.

Faramir shook his head. “Not since you healed it,” he replied, “I can use it normally now.”

”I shall have to continue treating it for some time yet,” the King warned him.

 “I think I should be able to endure that,” Faramir murmured. He was starting to feel very sleepy.

Éowyn chuckled. “You cannot fool me, Faramir, I know you enjoy these Elven treatments!” she snorted. “You were actually sorry when your shoulder was completely cured!”

“You do not have to be injured, Elves enjoy these skills solely for relaxation,” Aragorn told him, exchanging a smile with Éowyn. ”Now I need you to turn over before you fall asleep.”

The long sensitive fingers kneaded the Steward’s shoulders and chest. The damaged ribs were knitting with remarkable speed and Faramir only flinched slightly when they were massaged quite vigorously. His heart now beat strongly and slowly, and Aragorn finally dared to hope that soon Faramir would have no further need of the hawthorn berry tonic.

He was heartened that he could no longer see any visible swelling on Faramir’s belly. The mottled and discoloured skin was now a healthy colour. Only by touch, though, could he know if any scar tissue remained.

Faramir was lying with his eyes shut and appeared completely relaxed, his earlier apprehensions soothed away by Aragorn’s healing touch. He hardly seemed aware that the King’s hands were edging nearer to the spot just beneath his ribs.

Rather tentatively, Aragorn placed his hands on his Steward’s belly and started to massage the area where Agond’s boot had caused such damage. He could feel nothing but healthy flesh beneath his fingertips. Even so, he feared Faramir would suddenly yelp with pain. He continued gently but thoroughly massaging his belly.

The look of concern on Éowyn’s face mirrored his own feelings and when Faramir opened his mouth to speak, they both froze in anticipation.

“However do you manage to have such warm hands in the middle of winter?” Faramir enquired calmly.

“It is the sign of a natural healer.” Aragorn informed, his grim features relaxing into a smile. He finally dared to breathe again.

“Which is obviously something I am not. My hands are always cold!” Éowyn added, her rueful tone disguising the relief she felt.

“Well, it seems the Elven bath has healed your hurts!” Aragorn told his Steward, the massage finally completed.

“It was you who healed me!” Faramir replied, pulling his nightshirt back over his upper body. “It is appropriate that it should be today.”

”It was I, though, who was to blame for putting you where you could be harmed in the first place. Can you ever truly forgive me?” Aragorn found Faramir’s gratitude harder to bear than any resentment.

“How many times do I have to tell you that there is nothing to forgive? You never wronged me in any way.” Faramir’s grey eyes were full of love and loyalty as he met his King ‘s gaze. ”Now I am healed I should like to attend the Council meeting later today. I have been absent too long.”

“I shall apologise to you before the Council for breaking the vow I made to protect you.” Aragorn said with tears in his eyes.

“No, Aragorn, you must not!” Faramir said firmly, “I forbid you, as you above all must show no weakness in public. It would be a falsehood to say you failed to protect me! No one could have done more to aid me once you knew I had been arrested. Peace my friend!”

He reached up and placed his hand on Aragorn’s head letting the King read his thoughts and affirming his conviction that Aragorn was not to blame.

Aragorn pressed his head against Faramir’s, awed by the simple goodness of his friend. He could be certain now Faramir did not blame him, as the Steward was now not in any way feverish, overwrought or distressed.

Éowyn shook her head slightly observing the gesture. She found the Númenórean mental abilities somewhat uncanny to witness and was glad she did had not inherited them from her grandmother.

She stole a furtive glance at her daughter, wondering if the infant would grow up to inherit this somewhat alarming ability and rather hoping that she did not. She could accept her husband linking minds with the King; for it obviously was highly beneficial to them both. The thought of her own daughter being able to do something so strange, though, unnerved her. It would give her a unique closeness to Faramir that she could never know.

Perceptive as always, Aragorn smiled at her. “We Númenórean find the Rohirric ability to communicated with horses beyond our comprehension!” he told her.

Reassured, Éowyn smiled back. She realised that the King was married to an Elf whose mental abilities far surpassed those of any mortal. Arwen might have passed some on to his son.

“I will bathe and breakfast then see you later at the meeting,” Faramir said, when the King took his leave, “Thank you for everything, my friend.”

***

A low murmur rang round the Council Chamber at Faramir’s appearance. Aragorn formally welcomed him back and invited him to take his usual seat at his right hand. In reply, the Steward knelt and kissed Aragorn's hands in fealty. Both men fought to hide the flicker of amusement in their eyes. Aragorn detested such formal gestures and Faramir well knew it.

“Your Steward is very loyal, my lord,” said the Lord of Lebennin in a tone only just short of impudent.” I heard that you had him thrown in prison in order to please the King of Rohan!”

“I never thought I would see the day when Gondor sacrificed its Steward to the Horse Lords!” the Lord of Lamedon exclaimed. “We have all heard how our esteemed Steward was beaten while in prison.”

Aragorn glared at them and was about to speak when Faramir caught his eye. He nodded his consent for the Steward to have his say.

“My lords,” Faramir began in a clear and commanding tone,” I know there has been much debate and rumour concerning what happened to me. I should like to make it clear that King Éomer and I are fully reconciled after our unfortunate misunderstanding. It was not the fault of King Elessar that I was briefly imprisoned. The King has always treated me with great honour. He has had the miscreant who beat me executed this very day.”

He sat down again to cheers from some and murmurs of disapproval from others.

Aragorn then rose to speak. “You have heard what the Steward has said, I will hear no more talk of recrimination against Rohan. To mark the friendship between our lands, I am holding a State Banquet a week from today. It will also be a celebration of the birth of my heir and of Prince Faramir’s daughter. It is my hope and expectation that you will all attend.”

The Lords could only voice their agreement. Aragorn then continued with the rest of business of state that needed attending to. He felt like smiling with joy that once again his Steward was at his side. Gondor was surely in safe hands now they were working together again.

TBC