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My Sword Weeps - Book Two - 'My Sword' Series  by Agape4Gondor

Ch. 42 – A Secret Revealed

Elladan looked long and hard at his friend, his brother. Ever since Aragorn had returned eight years ago from Lórien, he had been changed. His brother never spoke a word, but there had been harsh words between him and their father. After that, Aragorn had gone north and west for long years. He would return for short visits and, if the twins were home, they would talk long into the night – about serious things, like the Rangers, Morgoth, the village of Bree, Hobbits and their land, and then – there would be silence and Elladan grieved, for he knew his brother was keeping something from them.

As he looked now upon Aragorn, holding ever so gently the little boy, Elladan wondered if it was family. Was Aragorn ready to wed? Was his brother longing for children? Elladan knew that Aragorn loved his sister, Arwen, but also knew that any relationship other than friends was wholly unacceptable to Elrond.

Aragorn looked up at him. His brow furrowed. “What?”

Elladan smiled. “Would you like some water? You’ve been singing for over an hour. I know you are not used to singing. I have heard that your brother Rangers discourage you, when you open your mouth.” He chuckled.

Aragorn smiled back at him. “I am quite parched. Water would be good.” When Elladan returned with the flask, Aragorn continued, “Your reasoning as to why I am asked not to sing is flawed. I embarrass them by the beauty of my voice.”

This time, Elladan saw Aragorn’s shoulders shaking in mirth. “I am mistaken then,” he said genially. He went back to the fire and put more logs on. “I will return in a moment.” He took the small bucket and went through the cave’s entrance.

When he returned, Aragorn noted the little bucket was piled high with snow. The Elf put the bucket on the rock that overhung the fire. Then, he returned to Aragorn’s side. Crouching down, he put his hand on Aragorn’s shoulder. “Too long have you hidden things from those who love you.”

Aragorn looked at him, quizzically. “I know not of what you speak.”

“You are lonely?”

Aragorn’s eyes lit in understanding. “I am as lonely as any Ranger out in the wild.”

“But you might have found someone?”

“I have.” Aragorn looked into his brother’s eyes and saw hurt there. “The one I love is not allowed. Not yet.”

“Is there aught I might do? Mayhap I could speak with her father. Tell him what a good catch you are.”

Aragorn saw that the Elf’s eyes were serious. “It is not that easy. I have been appointed a task that will take many,” and his brow lifted, “many years.”

“Do you see her often?”

“Not in eight years. Mayhap, when we return Faramir to Minas Tirith, I will visit her. She lives some distance from Imladris.”

Elladan chewed this new piece of information over. “She will wait this long?”

“She has the patience of an Elf.”

Elladan stood up in surprise. “Arwen! You love Arwen more than as sister!”

Aragorn bowed his head and resumed the lullaby. After a few moments, he looked up. “Do you now hate me?”

Elladan sat down next to him. “I believe speaking to the father would be useless.”

Aragorn choked back something between a sob and a laugh.

“We will return through Lórien,” Elladan said firmly. “The road is closer. I want to spend some time, if this meets your approval, with the Marchwarden, Haldir. We have met and fought together. There are things happening that bear discussion.”

He brought tea over and helped Éomund sit. Gently he let a few drops of the tea fall into the Rohir’s mouth. After he was finished, he laid the man gently back down, then walked to Aragorn. “Here. I think you should try again. The boy seems to be resting more comfortably.”

Aragorn took the proffered cup and held it to Faramir’s lips. The boy swallowed a few of the precious drops. Once again, Aragorn put his hand on the child’s heads and whispered the healing words. There was no reaction this time. Aragorn bit his lip. “I do not understand this. My medicaments do not seem to have any affect on whatever holds the boy in thrall.”

“Give it time, Estel. He has responded twice now. Mayhap he sleeps more deeply.” He offered the water flask to Aragorn who took another swallow and gave it back. “I will get more snow.”

Aragorn began to sing once again to Faramir. Smiling, he was gladdened that he had drunk the water. It definitely helped. After many more moments, Aragorn began to be concerned. Elladan had not returned. He grit his teeth and swore softly. He should not have let him go alone. He shook his head. ‘No need to worry. Elrohir has probably found us.’ He started the lullaby where he had left off.

~*~

“There is someone in the cave, Captain. We are not sure how many. They do not appear to be Orcs.”

“The mouth? How is it? Large enough for more than one?”

“Just one, Captain.”

He swore quietly. “Take five men with you. You know the drill. Be careful. They may be friend but we know not.”

“Aye, Captain. We will signal when it is done.”

He waved them off. Indis sat up straighter. “They will watch for your company, Lady Indis. Do not be afraid.”

“Éomund has not recovered full strength to his sword arm from our previous journey, but I do not doubt that he can harm your men. I hope they are careful.”

Durahil smiled. Always, Indis carried such loyalty for the people who served her. He recognized in this moment, as his hand wrapped firmly around her waist, that he loved her. He blushed in shame. She was newly widowed. She was older and higher born than he. He had no right.

She patted his hand. “I have not thanked you for rescuing us.”

“Again, my Lady, I must say that it is because of Listöwel that we arrived when we did. When they came to my garrison, I would have sent her back to Minas Tirith. She like unto bit off my head.”

Indis began to laugh, then quickly gasped.

“A head wound hurts for many days. Even the slightest movement brings pain. Lay back against me whilst we wait for my men to return.”

“Has Théodred woken yet?”

Durahil turned and beckoned to the rider that had Théodred in his care. When the man pulled up next to them, Durahil asked, “How fares the boy?”

“Let him tell you himself,” the warrior smiled.

Indis cried in delight. “Théodred!” She would have lunged for him, but Durahil held her close. “Are you well? What injuries have you?”

“The Master Healer already has determined that I will recover, Indis. And you? How are you?”

“Only a head wound and healing quickly. I can almost ride myself.”

The boy smiled at her bravado. “The same here.” He broke into laughter. Then, suddenly, his eyes pooled with tears. “Faramir is dead?” And at the spoken word, the tears spilled over.

“We do not know, Prince Théodred,” Durahil replied as Indis herself was too overcome to answer. “We know not exactly where they were left. We are taking you to a cave. Mayhap it is the same one that you were captured in. If so, we may find out what has happened to Marshal Éomund and to Steward Faramir. Be not disheartened. They may yet live.”





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