The characters belong to the Tolkien Estate and this ficlet was written for
pleasure not profit.
"What happened? Shoulder hurts-my head!" Faramir opened his eyes and saw Aragorn
kneeling beside him, and was aware of the King checking his pulse. Reassured, he
closed them again.
"You were wounded in the skirmish."
Faramir grabbed frantically at Aragorn's sleeve. "Who won the day?"
"We did, mellon nîn, thanks to your courage. Easy now. You are safe. We took
shelter in a barn while we wait for Beregond to bring help."
Faramir lay back. He appeared to be lying on a makeshift bed of straw He
realised he was wearing only his breeches and boots. His upper body was bandaged
and covered with a cloak.
He felt Aragorn pull aside the coverings and a comforting, healing warmth from
the King's hands permeate his injured shoulder."
"Is that easier now?" Aragorn's tone was full of concern.
"Thank you. So cold here!" Faramir could not stop his teeth from chattering as
he spoke.
"You have a fever," Aragorn said. "Come, drink this." Supporting Faramir's head,
he held a cup to his lips.
Faramir's fuddled brain recognised the bitter taste of willow bark, a proven
remedy for fever. He forced himself to swallow the bitter brew.
"Very good," Aragorn offered another draught, this time plain water.
"Is it safe here for you?" Faramir fretted. "What if the enemy returns?"
"We routed them, and just in case any are fool enough to want to taste our
swords again, there are guards outside the door. Beregond was most insistent.
Now go to sleep until he returns"
"Too cold," Faramir murmured fretfully.
Aragorn did not say anything. Instead, he lay down beside Faramir on his
uninjured side and enfolded him in warm arms. Removing his cloak, he spread over
them both. His warm hands chafed Faramir's cold ones.
"There, does that feel any better?"
Faramir settled and rested his head against Aragorn's shoulder. After a few moments he
sighed contentedly. "Much, but you will be cold now?"
"Not half as cold as I would be if I allowed any harm to come to you! Remember,
I promised both our ladies that we would return to them together in one piece.
They will have me sleep in the stables henceforth if I do not keep my word!"
"Éowyn might when you came to visit, but surely not your lady?" Faramir murmured
sleepily.
"Arwen would take it very ill if any harm came to the man who saved her
husband's life! Do you not recall that arrow you took was meant for me?"
Aragorn's voice was slightly unsteady as he held Faramir more tightly. "How
could I lose such a gallant foolish friend either?"
Faramir did not reply as he had fallen asleep. Aragorn felt his friend's
forehead; the fever was abating. Faramir would recover. He offered a silent
prayer of thanks to the Valar.
A/N I haven't really time for prompt writing what with last minute MEFA reviews
and my dragon story and angsty potboiler,but I had a craving to write some h/c,
which I could not resist to cheer myself up while I was having problems with my connection.
Tolkien wrote that Aragorn still had to fight many
battles after the Ring War so this is the aftermath of one of them.
I intend to polish and enlarge this at a later date.
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grateful
Dear Santa...