These characters are the property of the Tolkien Estate.
Warning- This chapter may upset readers of a squeamish disposition.
A Dangerous Procedure
Aedred blanched and even Tarostar looked alarmed, He tugged nervously at his white beard.
“My lord, that is very dangerous!” the elderly healer protested. “I have heard of the procedure, but not of any surviving it! Would it not be better to wait and see if the swelling subsides?”
Aragorn looked troubled but said nothing. He finished the stitching and turned his attention to Éomer’s injured ribs, feeling them gently before applying a salve of comfrey and arnica. He motioned to Aedred to lift the King of Rohan while he bandaged his chest wound and strapped the damaged ribs.
He then moved up the bed and stood for a moment studying Éomer. “See how his head is swollen!” Aragorn pointed out. “It has grown worse, even since you came in this room. I well know the procedure is dangerous but not to try it, would be more so. I do not like doing it, but fear I have no choice.” He gently probed the head wound with his long sensitive fingertips, while he spoke. “I will need you to hold him while I make the incisions.”
The Healers still looked doubtful but did not wish to contradict the King.
“Have you any better suggestions?” Aragorn asked, determined to leave no stone unturned in his efforts to save his friend.
“I fear I cannot think of any other treatment except cold compresses, which I doubt would work.” Tarostar sighed. “We will assist you as best we may, sire.”
Aragorn wrapped blankets round Éomer to keep him warm and to try to prevent him going into shock, then draped a towel round the young King’s shoulders.
Carefully, he washed his hands and steeled himself for one of the most difficult tasks of his life. He knew it was unwise to carry out such a procedure on a loved one and it turned his stomach to think of what he must do. He was all too aware that Éomer’s life lay in his hands. He alone had the skill and knowledge to save his friend and could not allow himself to give way to his natural revulsion.
He studied Éomer’s pale face, trying to see him merely as a man in need of his help rather than his brother in arms; his first and most faithful ally in the struggle to defeat Sauron and a loyal friend who had shown him many kindnesses and always held his welfare close to his heart.
Éomer lay as still, as one already dead and Aragorn knew that unless he acted quickly, his friend would soon be beyond all mortal aid.
“Hold him upright!” Aragorn instructed the Healers. He took a knife they had brought from the Houses of Healing and held it in the flames of the fire to cleanse it.
Taking a deep breath to steady his hand, he made three incisions round the wound on Éomer’s head, each about three inches in length.
Tarostar, while supporting Éomer’s upper body with one hand, used the other to mop away the blood oozing from the fresh cuts, to allow Aragorn a clear view of Éomer’s skull when the scalp was pealed back to expose the shattered skull beneath.
Aragorn carefully picked out the fragments of bone, all the while taking care not to pierce the membrane surrounding the brain, as that would cause a most likely fatal infection.
It was deliberate and painstaking work as one slip would be fatal, as would leaving any fragments of bone inside. When he was satisfied the wound was clean, he folded back the skin flap and carefully stitched it, before applying a salve of garlic and honey to fight off infection.
Aragorn finally dared to relax a little. He found that he was shaking.
“You should rest a while, my liege,” Tarostar counselled, “I will bandage King Éomer’s head.”
Aragorn nodded and permitted Aedred to assist him to a chair. The Rohirric healer brought him a restorative drink and a cloth to wipe his hands; hands stained red with his close friend’s blood.
“That cannot have been easy for you, my lord, I know you hold Éomer King in high esteem.” Aedred sympathised, holding the cup for him to drink from.
Aragorn briefly closed his eyes and for once, allowed himself to be aided. He felt drained with the strain of fighting for his friend’s life combined with guilt about not being able to prevent this catastrophe. Then, before all this had happened, he was worried about Arwen and the child she was bringing into the world.
Tarostar paused in his almost completed bandaging, uneasy about Éomer’s condition. The King of Rohan seemed to be turning paler by the moment and his breathing grew more erratic. Tarostar checked his heartbeat.
“He grows weaker!” he exclaimed in alarm, “His heart is slowing!” He pulled down the blankets and made to massage the failing heart.
His momentary weakness forgotten, Aragorn leapt to his feet. “Leave him to me. Bring hot water, quickly!” he demanded.
The Healers looked baffled, but did as they were bidden and brought a bowl of steaming water to the King, into which he cast two leaves of athelas.
“Hold the bowl under King Éomer’s face!” he commanded Tarostar.
“But my liege, we should be trying to revive him!” the elderly Healer protested.
“I am trying to, do as I say!” Aragorn’s tone brokered no argument. “Hold the bowl!”
The King went on his knees by his friend’s bedside and clasped round Éomer’s cold hands.
“Éomer, Éomer!” he called, as if in a trance.
The Healers looked on in bewilderment. “Whatever is he doing?” whispered Aedred.
“I know not, but Dame Ioreth told me he used some strange Elvish arts to cure the Lord Faramir of the Black Breath, maybe this is akin to it?” Tarostar replied in a low voice. He looked with some alarm at Aragorn, who had turned almost as pale as the King of Rohan.
Éomer suddenly started to breathe more deeply and some colour returned to his pale features much to the amazement of the watching Healers.
Aragorn swayed and would have fallen, had Aedred not steadied him. He helped the King to his feet and led him to a chair.
“His heart beats strongly now!” Tarostar, who was examining Éomer, announced.
“My lord, you are unwell, let me aid you!” Aedred fretted.
Aragorn gradually regained his composure. “I am well, just give me a moment.” he replied, gently but firmly batting the Healer’s hands away.
“This type of healing is very draining, I believe, though I have never seen it done before. That is, if it is not just some sort of illusion. It could be the athelas acts as a restorative,” Tarostar commented, secretly impressed but not wishing to acknowledge something, which broke every rule of healing he knew of, in front of his young colleague. “Dame Ioreth told me the King’s friends feared for his well being when he healed the Lord Faramir, but that he quickly recovered.”
“Faramir!” Aragorn, all weariness forgotten, leapt to his feet, remembering that he had ordered his Steward to be taken into custody.
A/N.The procedure Aragorn carries out on Eomer is taken from a description I read about an operation carried out in Anglo Saxon times, which the patient survived.
TBC