Resting in the Light

            “Lord Aragorn is within, my Lord Imrahil,” the guard at the entrance to the enclosure told him.  “I will see if he will allow you to enter.”  So saying, the Man held open the flap to the enclosure and called within.  “My Lord, Prince Imrahil asks admittance.”

            The Prince of Dol Amroth heard the soft response:  “Let him enter.  But be reminded that this is a sickroom.”

            “I am sorry if I raised my voice, my Lord.  I would not discomfort them.”  So saying, the guard pulled the flap further open and stepped aside to allow the entrance of this guest.

            There was no roof to this room save for the leafing branches of the trees overhead.  Imrahil looked up to see the filtered light of day in a sky of clear blue such as had not been seen in this region of Gondor for most of his lifetime.  He glanced at the two beds that had been set within the enclosure and the small occupants of each.  “They can sleep with full daylight?” he asked quietly.

            His yet-uncrowned King nodded.  “I have put them into a deep sleep of healing.  However, when there is no natural light they grow distressed.”

            Imrahil peered down at the bed holding the Ringbearer.  “He is so still,” he murmured.  “How can you tell he yet lives?”

            Aragorn sighed and leaned closer.  “His breathing and heartbeat are both weak, but they are there, faint though they might be.  He was almost past the Gates when I at last found his fëa and called him back.  I feared he would not turn, but at last he did.  I am glad he did, as it is most likely that had he not returned to his body that Sam, too, would have refused to come back.”  He straightened.  “We have labored so over the two of them, cleansing them of the grit and blood that so covered them I almost did not recognize them.”

            The Prince gently stroked the hand that lay upon the soft blanket that covered the nearer Hobbit.  “There is nearly no flesh over their bones,” he noted.  “One wonders how they made it to the mountain, much less out of it to be rescued as they were.”

            “Indeed.”  Again Aragorn sighed.  “So deeply were they hurt!  But I trust that they will return fully to us in time.  Hobbits are remarkably resilient folk, or so I have found.”

            Again he leaned over Frodo, brushing the hair off his brow, then turned to offer the same service to the Ringbearer’s fellow.  “Sleep well, dear ones, and waken when the time is right to know the honor and love we all hold for you.”

            With that, the new King beckoned to his companion and led him forth, leaving the Cormacolindor to their rest, there under the reassuring light of sun, stars, and moon.