Another hard one to execute; one could use magic easily with elves or someone such as Gandalf, but how could I do it with Aragorn? Suddenly, it hit me like a ton of bricks. After a small bit of research, I was ready to write. And, I must say, it was a lot of fun to write. Some RL stuff delayed it, but I am satisfied.

“‘Would that there were kings in Gondor, as there were once upon a time, they say! For it is said in old lore: The hands of the king are the hands of a healer. And so the rightful king could ever be known.’” -The Houses of Healing

Prompt Ten: Magic
Ficlet: Hands of a Healer
Rating: G
March 15th, Minas Tirith

“Men came and prayed that he would heal their kinsmen or their friends whose lives were in peril through hurt or would, or who lay under the Black Shadow. And Aragorn arose and went out, and... laboured far into the night. And word went through the City: ‘The King is come again indeed.’” -The Houses of Healing

Aragorn was tired; long he had tended to the people of Minas Tirith, who begged for his aid. After he had left the Houses of Healing, men had followed him and prayed for his help. He had then come among the people- his people- and started to tend them.

Once it had been found that he had used the plant kingsfoil in order to heal those that lay in the Houses of Healing, a few had come to him with the plant for his use. This had helped greatly in some cases, for there were others who lay deeply under the Black Shadow and needed athelas in order to come back to the world of the living.

It seemed that he would need it once again. Aragorn had been led to a house on the third level of the City by an older man who claimed that his son was inflicted with the Black Breath. Aragorn listened quietly as the despairing father described his son's condition and pleaded with him to try and help.

"I shall do what I can," Aragorn had quietly replied, and had said no more.

Now, he sat beside the sick young man, who was heavily under the Black Shadow. He was not nearly as bad as his patients in the Houses of Healing had been, but without treatment this man would surely die within the next couple of days.

"What is his name?" Aragorn asked the father.

"Caunén," he replied softly, but could say no more.

Aragorn nodded, and returned his attention to the young man. Caunén looked deathly pale, and one could see that he was having an inner struggle. He put a hand upon Caunén's brow, and then Aragorn began to softly call for him. As he called, the father prepared a bowl of steaming water, as he had been directed to earlier.

After a few minutes of calling to the young soldier, he bade the father to come and bring him the steaming water. Aragorn then crushed a single leaf of athelas, and breathed upon it. Immediately the small room they were in was filled with a lovely scent that brought hope to the anxious father. Smiling, Aragorn removed his hand from Caunén's forehead, and put the young man's hand into his father's.

"Call to him," Aragorn bade him, "and he shall return. The worst has passed."

"Oh, bless you, bless you, my lord!" said the father with a newfound joy. He then sat beside his son, and began to call to him. As Aragorn left the house, he heard Caunén finally stirring, and a small, satisfied smile came to his face.

Suddenly, he felt a wave of weariness come upon him, but Aragorn quickly willed it to pass. There were still more to tend, and he would only stop when he could labor no more.

With that thought in mind, he stepped out of the house, and followed another to tend to one who needed the healing hands of the king.