These characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain

O, welche Lust in freier Luft Den Atem leich zu heben !

Oh what joy, in the open air, Freely to breathe again! - Fidelio -Bethoven/Sonnleithner

O, welche Lust in freier Luft Den Atem leich zu heben !

Oh what joy, in the open air, Freely to breathe again! - Fidelio -Bethoven/Sonnleithner

Once assured that the King was sleeping soundly. Faramir decided that he too, was badly in need of a wash and a change of linens. He needed to go outside and fetch water and see how the horses were faring.

Returning as quickly as he could, he put the icy water on the fire to heat, collected some soap and towels and selected a clean shirt and drawers from amongst the spare clothing he had brought.

Aragorn had not stirred while he was away. Faramir was concerned lest Elbeth might awake while he was in a state of undress. He solved the problem by securing a towel around his waist and undressing and bathing under it, his back turned to the sleeping child. He then donned clean drawers under the towel and put his breeches back on. The Steward then peeled off his shirt and tunic. His teeth chattering with the cold, he thoroughly washed away the detritus of the King’s wounds from his body. By the time he was finished dry, he was covered in goose bumps. Swiftly, he donned a clean shirt and finished dressing. He dared not risk any infection from Aragorn’s wounds. It seemed the King was likely to be dependant on him for some time to come. Elbeth was far too young to survive alone here, however resourceful she might be.

Carefully, he slid his hand under the covers and felt Aragorn's skin under his shirt to check that he was warm enough. Aragorn had started to sweat so he removed one of the blankets. He tucked one around Elbeth for extra warmth and kept the second to wrap around himself.

Faramir settled down beside Aragorn. Once satisfied that the King was still soundly asleep, the Steward tried to rest; yet sleep was slow to come. The anguish and despair he had sensed in his friend’s soul had truly appalled him. Aragorn had endured torments beyond anything he could imagine. He wondered if even an exceptional man, such as the King undoubtedly was; could ever hope to recover. For a man like Aragorn who even found the huge apartments in the Citadel confining, what must it have been like to spend weeks chained in a dark cellar? Not only a helpless captive but deprived of adequate food, water and warmth and constantly put to torment? He had no idea how he could help his King. He only wished that Arwen were here to console her husband with her Elven strength and wisdom.

Faramir felt stronger again, now the Thought Bond was re-established. He was grateful beyond measure that Aragorn had seen fit to restore the link with him. He doubted, though that anything could ever ease the pain and guilt over his shameful deeds. He knew the King did not trust him, but then how could he ever expect to be trusted again? His heart was deeply troubled.

Aragorn cried out in his sleep, restless despite the liberal dose of poppy juice he had been given. Faramir could do little but smooth his hair and murmur words of comfort. When the King finally settled, exhaustion finally overcame the Steward.

When Faramir awoke again. Many hours had passed. Aragorn appeared to be in a deep natural slumber and his temperature appeared normal. Beside him, Elbeth had burrowed deep into her blankets like a baby bird in a nest.

Deciding he could safely leave them for a little while, Faramir took his bow and went out in search of food.

He was fortunate to quickly take down a rabbit, which had been grazing on the patch of grass he had cleared for the horses. The snowfall of the previous night had only covered it thinly. Already the snow was melting in the weak morning sunshine. It was still very cold. It looked, though as if it were going to be a fine day; the sky was clear and no longer overcast by storm clouds.

He took the rabbit back inside the cave and was starting to prepare it for the pot when Elbeth awoke and came over to him.

“Is Strider getting better?” she asked. “He no longer looks such a funny colour.”

Faramir smiled at her. “He is much better today,” he replied.

“Will he be able to play with me, then?” she asked delightedly.

“Not for a while yet,” Faramir replied. “It might be a long, long time before he is well again. I believe he will get better eventually.”

Satisfied, albeit slightly disappointed, Elbeth turned her attention to other matters. “I’m hungry! When can we have breakfast?” she demanded. “I want to play snowballs again today. When can I go out?”

“After you have eaten your breakfast, unless you need to go out now.” Faramir told her patiently. Realising that he was hungry too, he left off his task and prepared some oatmeal for them both while Aragorn was still sleeping.

After they had eaten, he sent Elbeth out to play and collected what he needed to tend to Aragorn, who was stirring now. He made some tea and approached the bedroll where he lay.

The King opened his eyes and stared wildly around him; making Faramir fear for a moment that he was feverish again. Aragorn then focused his eyes on his Steward and looked at him questioningly.

Faramir knelt beside his lord and smiled reassuringly.

“Where am I?” Aragorn asked hesitantly.

“You are in a cave in the forest,” Faramir explained. “I brought you here.” He hesitated, trying to recall the passing of the days, which all seemed to have blurred into one. “It was two or three nights ago,” he said at last.

Aragorn struggled to sit up. Faramir was immediately at his side, supporting him and placing pillows to support his back. “Easy!” he cautioned, “You need to get your strength back.”

Aragorn grabbed Faramir’s wrist with his bandaged hand. “Am I your captive now?” he demanded.

“No, no, my dear lord.” Faramir reassured him. “You are no prisoner. As soon as you are well enough, I will take you to your wife and son. Éowyn will tend your wounds properly then.”

Aragorn looked far from convinced. “Is it daylight?” he asked.

“Yes, I think it is about noon,” Faramir told him.

“I want to see the sky!” Aragorn demanded.

“And so you shall, as soon as you are well enough,” Faramir soothed, “Now drink this hot cup of tea, it will do you good.”

“You tell me I am not a prisoner? You speak falsely! I want to see the sky now!” Aragorn demanded

“No, my lord, I fear only that you might take a chill,” Faramir replied.

“I have been in the dark so long!” Becoming increasingly agitated, Aragorn tried to struggle to his feet. He immediately fell back helplessly amongst his blankets. ”Faramir, please help me! I cannot endure this darkness any longer.” His tone was pleading rather than accusatory.

“I will light more candles, sire.” Faramir was becoming increasingly alarmed, fearing for his lord’s already very fragile health. He felt the King’s forehead for fever, but there was none.

“Please, for the sake of any love you ever bore me, let me see the sky again!” Aragorn pleaded. “I feel so trapped in here! I cannot breathe!”

“You have my love still and always will, sire,” Faramir replied sadly.

“Then prove I am no prisoner! Let me see the sky!”

Faramir realised there was only one way to calm his King. Obviously, his horror of being confined was upsetting him so.

“I will have to carry you then,” he said, his eyes full of compassion. “Put your arms round my neck and hold on!”

Aragorn looked doubtful, as if the thought of Faramir carrying him repulsed him. He then nodded resignedly.

Faramir peeled back several of the blankets, wrapping those that remained together with the pelt, tightly around Aragorn’s skeletal frame and bodily lifting him. He staggered to the cave entrance, his precious burden in his arms.

The sun was now high in the sky, which was a clear frosty blue. What still remained of the snow, sparkled in the winter sunlight.

Aragorn gazed up at the sky, his expression rapt. Tears started to slowly trickle down his haggard cheeks. “I never thought to see the sky or breathe the sweet air again!” he whispered.

Faramir felt both his heart and his back would break soon. He felt compelled to linger a moment or two longer. “Here is Roheryn!” he exclaimed, when the stallion whinnied and trotted towards his master. “See Elbeth is over there, playing snowballs.”

The little girl then caught sight of the men and ran towards them. “Strider, you are better!” she exclaimed joyfully, “But why are you crying?”

“I can see the sky!” was all Aragorn could say. “I can breathe again!”

“Elbeth, can you help me support his legs?” Faramir asked her urgently, fearing he would drop Aragorn any moment. He felt something in his back give way and gritted his teeth.

The child did as she was told while Roheryn nuzzled his master ecstatically. Faramir waited for him to caress the velvety nose before gently saying, “I fear I cannot hold you any longer. You could take a chill if we stay here.”

Aragorn was now weeping too much to speak coherently.

Faramir turned and carried Aragorn back inside. Elbeth helped as best she could.

“You can go back to play now,” Faramir told Elbeth, when Aragorn was laid back on his bedroll. “I need to give the King a wash and change his clothes.”

“Just a minute, I have something important to do first!” She bent to kiss Aragorn saying, “There I’ve kissed you better, you can stop crying now!” before running out into the sunlight again.

“Thank you, Faramir,” Aragorn whispered. “I feared I would die in the darkness without seeing the sun and the sky one last time!”

It was Faramir’s turn to blink back the tears. The tea was still drinkable and he held the cup to Aragorn's lips while he composed himself. Taking a pan of warm water from the fire, he gently bathed the King's tear stained face. At least, Aragorn seemed somewhat more settled now. He let him rest for a few minutes before tending him further. He knew it would be a considerable ordeal for such a proud man to be bathed like an infant.

TBC