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

The human spirit will endure sickness; but a broken spirit—who can bear?

Bible: Hebrew, Proverbs 18:14.

For Julia with grateful thanks.

Despite his discomfiture, Faramir started to feel drowsy. He was spared from the further embarrassment of falling asleep half naked in the presence of his Queen by the sound of one of the babies crying. The door opened and he tensed in alarm, fearing that Damrod’s sister had chosen this inopportune moment to appear. Daring to turn his head, he was vastly relieved to see his wife enter with his clothes and a pot of salve. Arwen’s skilled hands finally ceased massaging his shoulders to be replaced with Éowyn’s comfortingly familiar touch when she began to rub salve into his back. Exhausted though Faramir was, he still felt tingles of pleasure at her touch.

“That should ease you,” Éowyn said briskly, “Go to bed now, you look almost as exhausted as the King! You had better share with him for tonight. Arwen and I will sleep here on the couch with the babies.”

“I thought the Queen would want to stay with Aragorn,” Faramir replied, hastily wriggling into his shirt that Éowyn had handed it to him, then turning to face her. He felt bare enough without his beard, never mind his shirt! As both Aragorn and himself had Elven ancestry, their beards would be slow to grow back again. He securely laced his clothing lest either lady decide his treatment was not yet complete.

“You need a proper bed until your back is better, and a good night’s sleep not disturbed by crying infants,” Arwen replied. “You are the only one with sufficient strength to lift Estel if he needs to get up in the night. Call me at once if he wakes and needs me. He is likely to sleep for many hours. We will take turns to stay with him tomorrow.”

“In any case, neither of you are in any fit state for husbandly duties at present!” Éowyn added, making her husband blush again and planting a passionate kiss on his lips. He returned it while Arwen was preoccupied lifting Eldarion from his cradle. Elestelle then started to wail, adding to the cacophony

Faramir conceded this was hardly a peaceful atmosphere for a sick man to rest in. “Thank you, my lady, my back feels much easier,” he said, bowing his head to the Queen and making his way towards the bedroom. “Goodnight, my lady, my beloved.”

“Goodnight, be sure to take off your boots!” Éowyn replied, lifting their daughter to her breast as she spoke.

Faramir crept into the darkened room illuminated by a single candle. Aragorn was still asleep, snoring softly. Carefully, so as not to disturb him, Faramir kicked off his boots and slid into bed. He had not even time to wish his wife could be beside him before he fell into an exhausted slumber.

About an hour later, Arwen entered the room to see how her husband fared. To her dismay, he was crying out restlessly in his sleep. Perching on the edge of the bed, she traced circles on her husband’s forehead and murmured soothing words until he quietened.

Kissing him tenderly, she then sat for a while watching him. How she yearned to be beside him, but she knew only too well that Faramir needed to regain his strength in order to help her husband. The Steward did not awaken. He was sleeping curled protectively against Aragorn. One hand was outstretched, as if to reach for a weapon with which to defend his lord if any danger threatened.

Arwen found the position of the sleepers oddly unnerving. She wondered why. Then she remembered how on the day Elestelle was born, both men had shared Estel’s room. She had gone to see if Aragorn and Faramir were sleeping after the ordeals of that day. Then, it had been her husband, who had been offering a protective fatherly shoulder for Faramir to rest upon. Now it seemed that the roles were reversed. Even though Faramir had betrayed the King, it seemed that he sought to protect him as one might a child who was scared of the dark.

It frightened her. She could see that her husband was broken in body, but broken bodies would mend, given time and care. A broken spirit was far harder to repair. She thought sadly of her mother, whose wounded spirit had been unable to find healing until she took ship to Valinor. Her Estel did not have that choice.

In the other room, Eldarion started to cry, so after pressing a gentle kiss to Aragorn’s pale lips, Arwen reluctantly crept away.

***

Exhausted after the journey of the previous day, Aragorn slept for almost twelve hours, not waking until after the others had eaten breakfast the next day.

When he opened his eyes, Arwen was sitting on the edge of the bed beside him. He looked at her for a few moments in bewilderment until he remembered the events of the day before.

“Vanimelda?” He hardly dared  believed he was not dreaming.

“I am here, Estel.” She held a glass of water to his lips and then tenderly took his right hand, which lay limply on the coverlet. “You are safe now, my love.”

Aragorn clutched at her fingers. His grip, which had once been so strong, felt far feebler than what even Eldarion’s tiny hands were capable of. Tears welled up in the King’s eyes in disgust at his own weakness.

Arwen said nothing, instead cradling him in her arms as gently as she would a newborn babe. “You are safe now,” she repeated, “safe with those who love you.”

“What of Faramir?” Aragorn asked fretfully. “He betrayed me! Are you his hostage?”

“No, beloved,” Arwen reassured him, “indeed I am not! We can leave here as soon as you are well enough to travel. Éowyn and I came here willingly with Damrod and are grateful for a safe place to shelter. Faramir is no kidnapper!”

“Maybe he is deceiving you, for he is clever?” Aragorn persisted.

“I sense no deception in him,” Arwen said quietly. “Before I sent him to rescue you, much to my shame, I forced my way into his mind and found nothing there but love and loyalty towards you.”

“Maybe that was true then,” Aragorn replied, “but Faramir has changed so much! At first, I believed he would surely come and hope remained with me. That was until the day, he walked into the cellar where I was imprisoned and struck me, spewing forth words of hatred that almost broke my heart! Later he branded me and gladly joined with my tormentors.”

“So he confessed,” Arwen said, looking sadly at her husband’s bruised face and the pain she saw all too clearly reflected in his grey eyes.

“Even when we were alone in that dreadful place, Faramir still abused me,” Aragorn said bitterly. “He held a knife to my throat and rubbed an onion in my face when there were none to see! Have you read his thoughts since he joined the conspiracy against me?”

Arwen shook her head. “No, nor will I violate his mind again. Faramir promised he would restore you to me and has done so. That suffices for me. You are Thought Bonded with him, so why not read his thoughts yourself?”

“I dare not!” Aragorn looked away, swallowing hard. “If I were to see some allegiance to the traitors in his heart, I should have to punish him most severely and I could not bring myself to do that. Despite all he has done, I still love him. He was like a son to me and he did save me!”

“More than once too,” Arwen replied. “Several times, I feared for your life and his too. Remember, it was at my bidding and for love of you, he became ensnared within that web of treason, and like all webs, it sticks to those who touch it for a long time afterwards.”

Aragorn sighed and nestled closer to her ignoring the pain that every movement caused him, comforted by her loving presence.

Tenderly she kissed him and gently stroked his face. “I love you Estel,” she whispered.

“I love you too,” he replied.

They remained thus for a few moments until he was reluctantly compelled to say, “I need to get out of bed.”

“Would you prefer that Éowyn and I should try to lift you and see to your needs, or should Faramir continue to aid you?” Arwen enquired tactfully.

Aragorn hesitated. He was uncomfortable with Faramir in his vicinity, but the humiliation of forcing his beautiful, perfect wife to have to wash and dress and change him like she did their infant son, was more than he could bring himself either to ask of her, or that he could bear. Then he was aware of the damage lifting him had inflicted on Faramir’s back. How could he risk a similar injury befalling his wife? Unpleasant though it was to have to rely on Faramir for such matters, he had in a way, almost become accustomed to it. Then the thought of Éowyn escorting him to the privy would be a humiliation beyond endurance!

“I think it best that Faramir should aid me,” he said at last, “providing that his back allows him to.”

Arwen nodded approvingly. “I think you will be more comfortable with him,” she said. “His back is much improved this morning. I gave him a through massage last night. The poor man was most embarrassed!”

“That sounds like the Faramir I know,” Aragorn said almost wistfully.

“I will send him to you now,” Arwen told him. “I came to sit with you while he ate his breakfast, so he should be ready now. Would you like something to eat? Then, you need a bath. We already have water heating. Afterwards Éowyn and I will tend your wounds.”

Aragorn nodded resignedly, though inwardly he dreaded her seeing his ravaged flesh. He was certain she would always love him. However, after she had seen what had been done to his body, would she ever be able to look on him with pleasure in her eyes?

“Thank you, I will eat a little later, but I need Faramir now!”

Arwen called to the Steward in the next room then tactfully withdrew.

Faramir hastened to his King’s side and helped him make his way to the privy. “Did you rest well, my lord?” he asked anxiously, lifting the King up from the bed.

“I did,” Aragorn replied tersely before adding. “You seem in less pain today. I hope that my wife was able to ease your back.”

“I am grateful for her help. I felt very ill at ease, though,” Faramir flushed at the memory.

“If it is any consolation to you, your wife will need look at my wounds after breakfast, so it will be my turn to blush then,” Aragorn said dryly while Faramir sponged his hands and face.

Faramir had the grace to look sympathetic. He was vastly relieved that Aragorn did at least seem well enough to talk after his long rest the night before.

By the time Faramir had helped Aragorn into the kitchen and sat him at the table, Éowyn and Damrod’s sister were filling a tub with water in front of the kitchen fire.

“Bereth, this is my husband and his friend, who have recently returned from fighting in the East to convalesce from their wounds,” Éowyn said by way of introduction. It seemed that Damrod had not even told his sister their true identity.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, my lady,” Faramir said. Aragorn politely dipped his head in greeting.

“You will have to decide who goes first,” Éowyn told them. “It would take all day to carry and heat enough water for two baths.”

“Where is Elbeth?” Faramir asked. “I would not wish her to come in while we are bathing.”

“She is outside playing with the kittens,” Arwen announced, coming into the room with Eldarion. “Bereth will keep an eye on her while you bathe.”

Aragorn struggled to eat the porridge that Éowyn fetched for him, but had to abandon the attempt; the spoon felt so dreadfully heavy. Noticing he was struggling, Arwen fed him, while balancing Eldarion on her lap.

Aragorn turned scarlet with the humiliation of it all. It had been bad enough having to be spoon fed in private, but in front of a stranger was almost too much to bear!

Éowyn left the room and returned a few moments later with an armful of clothes and towels. ”Here are some clean clothes for you and some towels for Aragorn,” she said, handing Faramir a large bundle. “There is little point in Aragorn getting dressed as I need to see his wounds,” she explained. “Afterwards he can borrow one of your nightshirts to wear.”

The women finished filing the bath and then turned to leave.

”We will leave you to have your bath now,” said Éowyn, ”That is unless you want me to stay and help!”

“No, thank you!” chorused Aragorn and Faramir in unified alarm.