Ch. 19 - Ice and Snow

The ground gave way suddenly and Aragorn felt his horse slipping from under him. As quickly as he could he slid off the horse, trying vainly to hit the ground standing. Yet, there was no ground. He was sinking into freezing cold water. Flailing about, trying desperately to stay afloat, he found he could not. His clothes dragged him further into the depths of the water; it was up to his neck and finally covered his face. He had but one moment to take a breath and then…

“Estel!” he faintly heard Elrohir scream. As the cold pervaded his body, he began to gasp and struggle for air. Still, try as he might, he could not surface. He knew he was drowning. Dimly, he wondered where his mount was and if the poor beast still lived. His eyes were closed; that surprised him. He opened them and discovered darkness, a darkness so complete that it took what little breath he had away. He stripped his cloak off and let it drop. Now he knew which way was up. He kicked off his boots and, sadly, clawed at the belt that held his sword and scabbard, released the buckle and let them fall. Taking off his tunic, he kicked furiously, his arms desperately reaching for the surface. His hands were growing numb; he only had a moment left.

Another hand touched his, he was sure of it! His head broke water and he gasped for air. “Estel!” he heard the call again, this time even fainter. He knew he had only to grasp the hand, but he did not think he had feeling enough in his own hands to do something that simple. The dilemma was solved for him; whatever hand was upon his, roughly grasped his own and pulled hard. Slowly, too slowly, he was pulled from the water, then dragged across – ice? He began to shiver uncontrollably. The hand pulled him even further away from his tomb.

“Run to the paddock and get help!” Elrohir screamed. Elladan ran.

Elrohir quickly stripped Aragorn of all his clothing, and began to rub the man's arms and legs. After but moments, he took off his own cloak, tunic, and leggings. He dressed Aragorn and then pulled him tightly towards him. Sitting on the ground with only his undergarment on, he wrapped his arms around his brother's torso and held tight, whispering quietly into his brother's ear. "Do not leave me, Estel. Do not go. I am here. I will help you. Please," he said louder as the shivering stopped. "No!" he whispered furiously for the shivering was the body's defense against the cold. "Fight, Estel. You must fight. Hold on."

~*~

“It is an Elf, my Lord! Running through the snow!”

The surprise in the man’s voice echoed the thought in Erkenbrand’s.  ‘What is an Elf doing in the Riddermark and why?’ he asked himself. The company stood at attention, hands on weapons and stance ready for battle. An Elf running alone meant danger. He strode forward to meet this apparition.

“Halt! You are trespassing upon the Riddermark. Be gone else I must perforce take you to my lord.”

“Help!” Elladan cried as loudly as he could. “We must have help.”

Erkenbrand stood stunned. ‘Something is amiss. Elves do not ask for help.’ He put his hand to the pommel of his sword and stood straighter.

“What manner of help need you?” he called back.

“We found a man fallen into a lake. We have rescued him, but he needs warmth and dry clothes. Please,” Elladan begged as he came near the camp, “please help us.”

“Mount and go with him!” Erkenbrand shouted and motioned to three men standing behind him. The men quickly mounted; one grabbed Elladan’s arm and helped him swing up behind him; they urged their horses into a gallop that took them in the direction that the Elf had come.

“Get a fire ready and some warm clothes,” Erkenbrand commanded. “And some mulled mead.”

The stallions raced across the snow; bred for such travel, they flew like the wind. Holding loosely to the man before him, Elladan reveled in the beauty of these horses. In less than half an hour he espied Elrohir and Aragorn.

“There! There!” he screamed to the man and pointed ahead of them.

The man shouted to his companions and pulled ahead of them. Quickly closing the gap between the Elves and the men of the Mark, he pulled up sharply. Elladan jumped from the horse before it had even stopped.

 He knelt next to his brother, quickly took his tunic off and wrapped it around Elrohir, then took Aragorn's bitter cold hand in his own. "He lives?"

Elrohir nodded. The men had reached them by this time and dismounted. Throwing a blanket to Elrohir, the men stood back, not sure what to say or do. Elrohir wrapped Aragorn in the blanket, stood and looked at Elladan.

"Will you pass him to me, Elladan?" He gave the limp body to his brother.

Jumping, half-naked, upon the largest stallion, he bent low and Elladan gently lifted his brother up into Elrohir's waiting arms. One of the men made as if to stop them when their leader pulled his arm back.

Pulling the reins and turning the horse westward, he slapped the flank of the horse. "Noro lim!" he shouted. "Noro lim!" The horse took off in a rush.

~*~

“I cannot spare Gorlim. I dare not go forward with only Théodred,” she told Listöwel quietly. “My dearest sister-friend,” she almost sobbed, “I would not send you away so lightly protected, but I must.”

Listöwel held her friend close. “I knew the dangers, dearest Indis, when I forced myself upon you and this journey. My heart will be with you as we ride eastward. I know,” she paused and swallowed, “I know you think you are doing only the best for Faramir. I will trust you, as always.”

Indis found her chin shaking as unshed tears fought to spill. “I know you trust me. Your friendship and trust have always succoured me. Faramir will die. I am certain of that, as is Siriondil. I know it seems folly to be out here, in the wild, taking him to a legend that may not exist, but I must do it. Even if my own life is forfeit. That others have shed their blood for their Steward is horrid to think upon, but their devotion to Faramir is the same as mine. They,” she stopped. “Baranor knew the risks.”

“As do we all, Indis. Be strong. I will not stay at the fortress, but will find the captain and return to you as soon as possible. Please, I know this is foolish to even ask, but please be careful. You are all I have left.” She threw her arms about Indis, hugged her tightly, then mounted her horse.

Siriondil sat with the unconscious Gildor before him. He clicked and the horse started forward. Waving, Listöwel followed.

“We may never see them again, Théodred.” She turned towards the boy standing next to her. “We go forward now, westward. You have kept your promise almost to the death of Faramir. I will no longer hide anything from you. He will die, and soon. Would you not leave us when the road we travel turns northward? We will stay on the Great West Road.  When we reach the garrison at the Mering Stream, your people will be there; they will accompany you in your return to your home. Your oath will have been fulfilled.”

He looked at her and the amazement in his eyes did not surprise her. “Leave you and Gorlim alone? I cannot do that, my Lady, even if I had no oath to bear. I know Faramir is close to death. I have witnessed battle wounds before. I stay because I love him. If I may suggest something?”

“Of course.”

“Why do we not travel towards Edoras? We can ask my father to send men with us. He will do that. He dearly loved the Steward and will do anything for his son.”

“Théodred. Every hour we spend traveling in the wrong direction is another hour taken away from Faramir’s life. I cannot do that. Perhaps, if you wished to ride to Edoras for help when we turn north…”

He held up his hand to stop her. “Do not offer that path again, my Lady. I will not leave his side, not until we bury him in the halls of his fathers.”

His gaze was unyielding. She shivered; then entered the wagon. Théodred stepped onto the wagon seat and took the reins in his hands. Gorlim rode beside them. They headed westward.