Disclaimer:

The characters, places, and events are creations of J.R.R. Tolkien. No profit was or will be made from this story. It was written solely for entertainment.

Author’s note:

As always many thanks to my beta reader Erulisse.

Summary:

On an ordinary day Aragorn’s world crumbles and he notices that luck is fragile and can vanish from one minute to the other…………..

Rating: PG-13

Chapter 1:  dark times

Aragorn looked up at the knock on his study door. A side-glance at Faramir and a shrug of his friend’s shoulders told him that it was not a scheduled date he had forgotten.

With a sigh he rose. "Enter," he called. His irritation over the interruption coloured his voice.

Faramir raised an eyebrow. It was well past the hour the King had promised to meet with his wife for dinner. However, it seemed that this morning the whole population of Minas Tirith seemed to have decided to seek him out or ask for his advice. If these interruptions did not cease he would be unable to leave his office.

Throlan, his royal herald opened the door in his ever awkward attitude. Aragorn fought the urge to roll his eyes. How he disliked this man. He almost felt it would be unsafe to turn his back on him.

“Yes?” he asked quickly before Throlan could recite his stilted introduction. Faramir quickly lowered his head to hide his smile. His amusement however vanished instantly when he heard the herald’s next words.

“My Lord King. The Queen has sent me to inform you that your son had a bad accident. She requests your presence at the House of Healing immediately!”

Faramir directed a shocked gaze at his friend. Aragorn had already reached out to grab his cloak and was hastening out of the room. Faramir quickly shuffled his papers into a pile and followed the King.

At the pathway connecting the palace with the House of Healing Faramir managed to catch up with his friend. Knowing that any platitude would meet deaf ears Faramir refrained from saying anything. He only made sure that Aragorn had recognized him. He wanted to make sure his friend would not face this alone. Aragorn acknowledged this with a thankful nod.

No sooner had Aragorn opened the great double doors leading into the House of Healing than Arwen came flying down the great staircase, her loosened hair and silken gown billowing behind her.

“Estel, thank goodness you are here,” she cried, not realizing that she had spoken in Sindarin.

As soon as she reached her husband she grabbed hold of his hand, then she greeted the Steward. "Faramir," she nodded slightly, acknowledging his presence. She returned her attention to Aragorn.

“Arwen what happened?” the King asked with much mastered calmness. He had clearly seen the fright in his wife’s eyes.

“I do not know. I was just informed a few minutes before I called for you. Eladrion was playing with his friends behind the citadel and…..” Arwen stopped when she looked at the darkening face of her husband.

Faramir swallowed. Just a few days prior he had been invited for dinner with the royal family when he had witnessed an argument between ten year old Eldarion and his father. The King had clearly declared that he did not want his son or any of his friends to play behind the citadel.

The great tower was undergoing renovation. A huge scaffold now surrounded the tower giving the workers better access to the upper portions of masonry. The scaffold had an unanticipated by-product. It had become a welcome playground for the children of the city, yet a very dangerous one. Aragorn had strictly forbidden his son to go there.

Faramir lightly touched the man’s arm when he saw Master Healer Tarostar coming down a corridor. The Master had obviously been searching for them.

Aragorn squeezed the hand of his wife and directed his gaze at the arriving healer.

“My Lord King, my Lady, I’m glad you could come this quickly. Please follow me to my office.”

Aragorn held up his hand. “Master Tarostar, I was informed that my son was injured and my presence was required. What happened and how is he? I want to see him.”

Tarostar looked first at the Queen and then turned toward the King. He was not the chief of Minas Tirith's famous healers for nothing.

“My Lord and Lady, I understand your anxiousness, yet there is something I have to tell you beforehand. Privately.”

Aragorn swallowed. What could be this important that the healer had to tell him before he saw his son? His gut clenched and his imagination began playing horrible pictures in his mind.

“I will take my leave and gather what news I can,” Faramir announced. Aragorn nodded gratefully.

“Thank you, Faramir. I will let you know whatever I can as soon as possible.”

While the Steward was leaving the healer gestured for the royal couple to follow him.

Aragorn looked briefly at Arwen. Taking a deep breath, he grasped her hand firmly as they followed the healer into a spacious office their anxiety growing with every minute.

“My Lord, my Lady,” Tarostar said as he turned around to face the royal couple. An aide had quickly closed the door behind the three of them. The healer felt that he had not one minute more to spare.

“Your son was brought here with a serious head injury not half-an-hour ago. I was informed that he took a fall from a great height. I’m sorry to tell you that …” Tarostar took a quick glance toward the Queen, uncertain if he should continue.

Arwen recognized the unspoken question in his gaze immediately and stood tall.

“Master Tarostar, my father Lord Elrond was the greatest of all healers in Middle Earth and I have been his apprentice for more years than you can count. Believe me, I have seen wounds more grievous than you can ever imagine. Would you please be so kind as to continue and finally tell us how our son fares?”

Tarostar swallowed at the icy and demanding tone, and Aragorn was again reminded that his fair wife was a true daughter of Elrond Half-elven and a granddaughter of the Lady Galadriel.

“I beg your pardon, my Lady. Your son's injury is very severe. His skull was cracked and he has suffered a massive brain haemorrhage. He has lapsed into a coma.”

Aragorn looked at the Master-healer in shock while Arwen quickly quashed a faint cry of blank horror. Unconsciously Aragorn tightened his hold around his wife’s shoulders. His head begun to swim. He knew this kind of injury from the battlefield, and often the result was either death or a severe trauma. But even worse was the fact that so little could be done for the afflicted.

“We want to see him,” Aragorn announced with a hoarse voice. Arwen only nodded. Master Tarostar took a deep breath and motioned for his guests to follow him out a side portal. He had expected nothing less and had left orders to prepare all.

While climbing up the stairs to the upper part of the clinic Aragorn’s thoughts were running wild. How badly was his son injured? Would he die or be forever disabled from his injuries?

He forced himself to stop. He had not even seen the boy with his own eyes and had not tried his healing hands on him. Maybe the injuries were not as bad as he had imagined.

He glanced at Arwen. Her beautiful face was chalk-white, her lips set into a thin line. She was fighting hard to not shed the tears that were barely held in check. Only his firm grip on her cold hand kept her from running ahead of them.

As they rounded a corner, the healer motioned toward a closed door and stepped aside. Aragorn took another deep breath before he moved forward. Only now he realized that the corridor was deserted. He had seen not one healer or even a nurse.

Every other time he had visited the House of Healing, or any other official institution within the town in fact, he was always immediately surrounded. Tarostar had done a good job to shield them from annoying looks and questions.

Opening the door the royal couple stepped into the room. Tarostar also entered yet he remained beside the entrance giving the parents some space for privacy.

Now there was no restraint for Arwen any longer. She yanked her hand free and run to her son’s side. Giving no thought to her long cream-coloured gown, she knelt beside the bed and took the motionless hand of her son into hers.

“Eladarion, Nana and Ada are here, do you hear me?” Again she had spoken in Sindarin.

Aragorn had rounded the bed on the other side and sat on the mattress. Eldarion was quite tall for his age, yet within the large pristine bed, he looked forlorn and much younger then he really was.

He let his gaze wander critically over his son’s body but apart from a light bandage around his left wrist he could detect nothing worrisome, yet his gaze was immediately drawn to the thick bandage around the boy’s head. Even if the dressing covered whatever injury there might be Aragorn immediately saw the signs that attested that Tarostar had not exaggerated when he had told them that his son was hanging by a thread.

Eldarion´s face was even whiter than the immaculate sheets. What contrasted starkly, however, were the child's swollen eyelids. Lifting one, Aragorn saw that his son's eyes were heavily bloodshot and not reacting to the light in the room. Aragorn had many times seen the effects of severe head trauma. He swallowed and lost the fight against his emotions. Like Arwen, sitting opposite him, tears ran down his face. The healer standing in the background was forgotten.

Then his rational mind demanded attention and with a determined swipe of his sleeve, he wiped off his tears. He extended both hands, placing the palms over his son’s chest.

Arwen quickly added her hands to those of her husband. Unconsciously Aragorn now realized there were bruises all over the boy’s body. Elf and man closed their eyes and while Aragorn remained silent Arwen begun to chant in a foreign language. Tarostar, who understood Sindarin quite well, was sure he had never heard this language before. The chant changed slowly into a haunting and slowly lightening melody which took even the older healer into its aura.

Later, Tarostar could never say how much time had gone by, but from one moment to the other he shook his head, feeling as if he was waking from a very deep sleep. As the Master Healer, he had seen the King in his healing trance many times and had seen the healing hands of the King work miracles, yet never had he been so pulled into whatever healing the King and Queen were attempting here.

Curious, he moved closer when the couple was stirring. Tarostar looked at the boy with narrowed eyes, yet he could detect no change. The boy's body was as motionless as before, his face pale and the horrible head injury still present.

Tarostar chided himself silently. What had he expected - that the boy would stand up and all would be well? He had immense respect for the abilities of the elves, and the healing hands of the King were potent beyond doubt, yet in this case it seemed that they needed more than this to restore the boy to his former health.

Even if Tarostar still harboured hope that a miracle would happen, the next words of the King quenched any spark of hope he had held, immediately.

“He will die and I’m unable to do anything against it.”

The keening cry of the Queen rang in his ears and he knew it would haunt him for years.

To be continued…………………………..

Chapter 2:  long days and even longer nights

Aragorn looked out the window of his office grateful that he was currently alone. As much as he appreciated the sympathy and encouraging words spoken by family, friends, the staff, or even people unknown to him, he had to fight the urge to hide and shut out the outside world.

Today he had even wished that he did not have to reassure Arwen that there might still be hope once again, because his heart was as anguished as hers was, and he needed reassurance as badly as she did. Yet he was too much realist and a healer with both professions pushing aside the worried father. He knew that his son’s state of health was bad; in fact, it was more than bad and still worsening.

The whole night first night they had sat on Eldarion´s bed, hoping, wishing and even praying that he would wake up so that they could at least assess his injuries. Healers had come and gone monitoring the child's vital functions, but apart from that, they were as helpless as he felt. Many times through the night, he had placed his healing hands on his son’s body, over the heart and even around his thickly bandaged head. Yet nothing had changed. Arwen´s songs and chants had also died away as she recognized her efforts were futile.

In the morning, Aragorn had a fierce but short argument with his wife. He had calmly but clearly stated that he had a Kingdom to rule and that the world would not stop in the face of their personal tragedy. Arwen had relented at last, but demanded that he return soon. He snorted; as if this was not his own feverish wish too?

He had issued a few orders, signed a few documents and quickly asked what had turned up. Faramir had started working early in the morning and, as always, had done an excellent job, yet his authority as the steward could not replace the king in all matters. Aragorn had just set his signature on a document and had grabbed his cloak to return to the House of Healing when a thought struck him. Should he inform anyone else? Maybe some of his friends living outside the town, Legolas, or the Twins? He felt he would appreciate his long time friend at his side now, knowing that Legolas would not get lost in all the emotions and would give real sympathy. But it probably was too early to alert anyone….

He was still wrapped up in this train of thought when a knock sounded on his study door. Aragorn whirled around. He had given clear orders not to be disturbed, apart from Arwen calling for him or some news from the House of Healing.

With long strides he crossed the room and yanked the door open. Remount an apprentice of Master Tarostar was standing in the corridor startled by his sudden appearance.

“My Lord,” he stammered. “Master Tarostar asks for your presence. Your son has awakened.”

Aragorn looked aghast at the young healer. Could it be? Yet Tarostar would not inform him if there was any doubt. Mastering his confusion he nodded at the runner.

“Thank you, I will be there shortly.”

Not waiting on a response Aragorn hurried back into the room, grabbed the recently signed parchment and his cloak, and left his rooms, closing the door behind him. Stepping up to the guard standing next to the door, Aragorn pressed the parchment into his hand.

“Find Lord Faramir and hand this to him. Tell him that it has to leave the Citadel today.” After a nod from the guard, Aragorn turned and hurried out of the palace.

Without considering the irritated looks following him he ran along the stone pathway leading to the House of Healing. Without stopping, he yanked the door open and hastened through the great entrance hall, up the stairs and burst into his son’s sickroom.

His gaze was solely focused at his son’s face and to his great joy; Eldarion actually had his eyes open. He could not believe it.

Quickly he stepped closer squeezing Arwen´s shoulder while passing. Yet his first close look at Eldarion's eyes told him that something was amiss - gravely amiss. His son’s eyes were unfocused, not looking at him or Arwen. His face was blank as if he was not aware of anyone around him. Aragorn narrowed his eyes while he sat on the bed beside his wife. He carefully took hold of his son’s hand but even this contact did not bring any change to the boy’s face.

“He cannot speak, Estel, and I’m not sure he is even recognizing us,” Arwen whispered, her voice nearly faltering. Aragorn swallowed. The initial joy over this development had quickly vanished and made room for a deep fear he had harboured since the bad news had first reached him.

Had his son's brain been damaged in the fall? Aragorn closed his eyes briefly. This would be worse then death. Then he pulled himself together. His son was alive and he had awakened. These were two things he had not been sure of a few hours earlier.

Focusing his attention back on his son’s face Aragorn squeezed the small, cold hand with a bit more vigour.

“Eladrion, can you hear me? Nana and Ada are here. Please look at me. We love you.”

The boy turned his head just a fraction as if he was listening. The right eye seemed to make some effort to focus but the left remained wide and fixed. Then he opened his mouth and made some effort to speak, yet only inscrutable syllables came out. Exhausted from the futile effort Eldarion closed his eyes and Aragorn was not sure if he was asleep again. Then his son opened his eyes again and turned his head from side-to-side in quick succession, as if trying to focus on something.

Aragorn stood and putting his hands to each side of his son's bandaged head, he gently but firmly stopped the frantic movements. Eldarion briefly stared at him, but again Aragorn was not sure he was recognized. The boy’s eyes closed again after uttering more disjointed syllables.

Soon Aragorn saw Eldarion's breathing deepen and become more regular as he slipped into true sleep.

Aragorn looked up when he felt Arwen´s questioning gaze. He circled his arm around her shoulders as she moved closer and placed her head on his shoulder. A small sob escaped her despite her best efforts.

“His brain is damaged, isn’t it?” she whispered and Aragorn could clearly hear the fear in her voice. He could barely bring himself to think about such a possibility. If Arwen had been any woman other than the daughter of the greatest healer in Middle Earth, Aragorn would have tried to reassure her that all would turn out well. But he knew how sharp-witted his wife was and how much more experienced a healer she was than he. She would see through such a ruse immediately.

Nodding at the young healer sitting near the bed who nodded in return, Aragorn rose and extended his hand. Arwen grabbed it and followed her husband out of the room. As they left they saw Master Tarostar coming down the corridor towards them. He looked deeply concerned.

“My Lord, my Lady would you please follow me to my office,” he said without much ado. Aragorn and Arwen followed him after an affirmative nod, anticipating that the healer would have nothing pleasant to report.

After the door was closed and the royal couple had taken a seat the healer moved around his huge desk and seated himself. Aragorn had the feeling that Tarostar wanted to bring as much space between him and the parents as possible in the small room.

“My Lord, my Lady,” he began, “you son’s condition has changed over the last few hours as you have just seen. During or after the fall he suffered a severe blow to his head. His brain hit against the skull with great force. Consequently, the brain is swollen. Indeed, in some places it is actually pressing against the bones of his skull.”

All colour drained from Arwen´s face while Aragorn pressed his lips into a thin line when the healer stopped talking. Both of them had expected something like this, but anticipating something, vs. hearing the affirmation were two very different things.

“Is this the reason why he cannot focus or speak?” Arwen asked quietly, although she knew the answer already.

Tarostar nodded. “Where the brain is injured or under pressure, vital functions located in this region will be damaged. If there is no release for the increased pressure, those functions can be lost forever,” the healer declared.

“Release?” Aragorn asked while narrowing his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

Tarostar looked at the King weighing his words carefully.

“The only way to protect the swelling brain from further damage is to widen the space for it.”

Arwen sprang up when she realized what the healer was hinting at.

“What limits the brain is the skull. You cannot be telling us to open my son’s head to give his brain more room, are you?” she said in a very low tone.

While Aragorn looked aghast at his wife’s suggestion, the healer seemed outwardly unmoved.

“That would be the only means to prevent further damage until the brain’s swelling goes down. If we give it no further room it will haemorrhage, leading to your son´s death. Should he, against all expectations, survive, then he will be permanently mentally disabled.”

Now Aragorn had also sprung up from his chair. He pressed his hands in front of his face, not wanting the healer or his wife to see his devastation. He was shaken to his very core. He had heard enough. The healer was recommending they open the head of his young son? How horrible this was to even contemplate.

He had never heard that anyone had either performed such a procedure or met a patient who had lived to tell about it. Not even Elrond had dared such a surgery, at least that he knew of. Tarostar could not earnestly be suggesting such a step? Aragorn whirled around to look at the healer.

“You are confident in doing such an operation?” he asked unbelievingly.

Now Tarostar lowered his eyes.

“No, my Lord. I have never done anything like this … but maybe with your assistance. We do not have many alternatives left.”

Aragorn inhaled heavily.

“I have confidence in your abilities Tarostar and in mine but it’s too risky. We may not control the risk of infection and the danger of doing more harm than good is much too great.”

Aragorn closed his eyes briefly. “I do not want my son to suffer even more.” His voice faltered.

“His fate lies now in the hands of the Valar…..”

“I know someone who can do it,” Arwen said suddenly.

Aragorn and Tarostar looked at her with irritation. The King inhaled sharply. His wife's jaw was set and her eyes glowed darkly.

In moments like this he was reminded once again that she was of another race, even though she had adopted and adapted to the human race.

“Who?” Aragorn asked while carefully controlling his voice.

“My brothers, of course,” she replied looking first at her husband and then at the Master healer. Both men closed their mouths audibly.

To be continued…………………

A/N: I´m so very sorry for the long delay, but unfortunately real life is so far away from Middle Earth. Don´t worry the story is long finished only not beta readed, but now I hope all will go faster. I hope you can return  to the story line and enjoy nonetheless. Lai

Chapter 3:  playing God

After a duel of flashing eyes Aragorn broke the eye contact with his wife and directed his gaze at the healer.

“Master Tarostar would you please excuse us?”

The healer inclined his head and left the room. Aragorn waited until the door was closed.

“Arwen,” Aragorn begun and his voice held a warning note. “You know how much I have unlimited confidence in the skills of your brothers and never can any man match their experience, but with all due respect, not even they have ever done such a surgery. The risk of killing our son right away is much too great. I will never agree with such an operation. Apart from all that, they are hundreds of miles away from us and would arrive in two months at the earliest if they left immediately. That’s ridiculous.”

The Queen had not blinked once while Aragorn was speaking. She looked at her husband with a set face.

“Are you done?” she asked with a clipped tone. “Even under great risk, my brothers would do such a surgery if they saw the tiniest chance to rescue our son and I have to correct you. They are already near the city or have you forgotten, my love, that in three months hence your 95^th birthday will be celebrated?”

Aragorn swallowed. With all the strain of the last days he had nearly forgotten about that, even if this was neigh impossible. For the past several weeks the inhabitants of the city, the staff of the palace and of course the people of his near surroundings had only one topic of discussion:   his birthday. As much as he hated this fuss about his person, he had no other choice but to play along. Celebrations such as these were also part of the duties of a King. What he had not known was that the twins had planned to attend. He assumed it was probably supposed to be a surprise.

“Elladan and Elrohir will be here for my birthday?” he asked looking at his wife. His brothers usually avoided visiting Minas Tirith, knowing how difficult their visits could be for their sister who was still learning to cope with her life among men.

“It was to be a surprise,” Arwen answered for the first time lowering her eyes, her tone had softened considerably. When Aragorn saw the first teardrop sliding down his wife’s cheek he stepped forward and pulled her into a tight hug.

“If there is any chance to rescue Eldarion with this surgery, you should agree. Aragorn please…..”

Aragorn did not know what to say. Never had Arwen begged for his permission and he hated to hear her do so now. If there was any chance for his son to be rescued by any operation then he would, of course, approve.

“Ssht,” Aragorn said calmingly and instantly he felt how Arwen relaxed against him. She lifted her face and Aragorn placed a gently kiss on her lips.

“When will the Twins arrive? Do they even know what has happened?” He could imagine that Arwen had already found a way to inform her brothers.

“Yesterday I got the message that they are already crossing the plains of Pelennor. They should arrive within the day. I had no chance to inform them beforehand; I dared not without your consent.”

Aragorn nodded and he moved away toward the window. As much as he would enjoy seeing his brothers again, he dreaded the events that would unfold when they were informed. Would they risk all or would they decline? Either way his son’s life stood on the edge of a knife. He groaned; a massive headache was spreading all over his skull.

When a knock sounded on the door, Aragorn and Arwen turned around. It was Master Tarostar; they had totally forgotten about the healer. After calling out an invitation to enter, Aragorn steeled himself to tell the palace healer how they intended to proceed.

…………………………………………..

Elladan swallowed the last piece of his dried meat and blinked into the descending sun. He could already see the outline of the great city. His brother was just coming over to him, their horses trailing behind him.

“Rise brother, I want to cross the plains before nightfall,” Elrohir called cheerfully while slinging his bags over his mare’s back.

Elladan sighed. As much as he looked forward to seeing his sister and Aragorn again, there was a slight feeling of dread that had been plaguing him for the past two days. He had a bad feeling about what was awaiting them at the city. Unwillingly he shook his head. They would surprise their little brother and would finally greet their nephew for the first time. Aragorn had lavished them with pictures drawn by Arwen and uncounted reports about his offspring. The brothers had often laughed aloud at the antics Aragorn described. Eldarion was a real son of Estel it seemed.

Just as Elladan wanted to mount his horse, he heard the high-itched cry of a peregrine falcon. He squinted his eyes at the horizon and saw a black point quickly coming closer. Elrohir had also sighted the bird and was following its flight. Elladan was sure that the bird was seeking them out, but why he assumed this he could not say.

As expected, the bird landed gracefully at the clearing looking at them with his piercing black eyes. Elrohir raised an eyebrow in perfect imitation of their father and walked slowly toward the bird. He spoke soothing words and when he had nearly reached the bird he extended his arm. To Elladan´s surprise, the falcon hopped onto the outstretched limb without hesitation.

Elladan blinked. This could be no wild beast. Even if the elves had a high affinity with the animals, a wild bird remained a wild bird. Only a few elves had the ability to call to the birds and interact with them.

When Elladan looked closer, he could see a golden ring around the falcon´s left leg with a tiny roll of parchment attached to it. It came from the palace then, he assumed. Instantly his bad feeling returned. What message was important enough to deliver it such a way? There were only a few people knowing that they even were coming to the city.

Elladan blew out his breath while he carefully neared his kneeling brother. Elrohir was gently caressing the bird’s head with his finger to calm it down. The falcon was twisting and turning on his arm not confident enough to settle down.

When the bird had finally stilled Elrohir extended his arm toward his brother and Elladan carefully loosened the ring holding the little scroll around the bird’s leg. As soon as the ring was detached the bird flew up and vanished into the sky.

Elladan looked at his brother before he carefully rolled up the tiny parchment. He instantly recognized the flowing handwriting of Arwen.

“Elladan, Elrohir. I hope you are already near the city. As much as I desire to see you two soon, my heart is troubled. I must ask you to speed up your arrival. Eldarion had a bad accident and was severely wounded with the result that he now lies dying. Only a very dangerous and risky surgery can possibly rescue him but no one here is either willing or able to do it, not even Estel. I hope you two will consider what must be done and find a way to help our son, Arwen.”

Elladan swallowed after he had finished reading aloud. He looked worriedly at his brother and blew out his breath in a hard sigh. What could have possibly happened to their little nephew that not even the renowned healers of Minas Titrth were able to help him?

Also, he could not forget their brother. Aragorn was also an accomplished healer, and no human this side of the sea could match his healing abilities. Even he was unable to rescue his son?

Shaking his head Elladan mounted his horse.

“Let us hurry brother, our time is running short.”

Before the older twin could nudge his horse forward, Elrohir placed a restraining hand on his brother’s knee.

“Elladan wait. What if we are not able to help? What if we arrive too late?”

Elladan looked at the silvery town at the horizon, glowing in the moonlight.

“We will not get this answered by staying here, right?” he answered while manoeuvring his horse around his brother.

Elrohir swore under his breath as his brother began a fast walk away from their campsite. The joy and anticipation in seeing Arwen and Estel again after so many years had vanished, replaced by deep worry and fear.

…………………………………………..

Aragorn gently caressed his son’s cheek. Eldarion had finally slipped into a deep coma. Aragorn knew that without relieving the pressure on the child's brain, he would die within days. He grimaced as he thought about the necessary surgery. Even if it was successful, which he greatly doubted, Eldarion would presumably never be the same as before. The healer feared permanent damage had already been done.

Then he directed his thoughts toward his arriving brothers. Would they perform the difficult operation or would they decline, citing too great a risk? Would they be angry about being put into such a situation or having to make such a decision?

Aragorn had sent his wife home. Arwen had been totally exhausted. Even with the stamina of an elf she was near a breakdown after having sat with their son for nearly three days and nights without rest.

Arwen also dreaded the reunion with her brothers. As much as she wanted their quick arrival she feared how they would judge the situation. Her initial confidence had greatly suffered over the last hours.

She had finally agreed to leave her son’s bedside, no longer able to watch him suffer. Even if Eldarion was comatose, his deteriorating condition was clear to see and Arwen also felt her son’s declining health on a more emotional level.

As much as Aragorn was feeling for his son, he could never reach the same emotional connection as elves shared with their children.

Suddenly overwhelmed Aragorn let his tears run free. The boy was his joy and living proof of his love for Arwen. Never had he been trouble. He was an easy-going, lively youngster, anxious to please and the joy of his family and friends. Aragorn had been proud and had made sure that Eldarion received as much love as he could give him, the same way he had received love from Elrond and his own mother throughout his own childhood.

He could not bring himself to believe that this bright spirit should be lost forever. Right now he would grasp at any straw and even consider attempting the surgery himself if only his son could be rescued. But now he also wished for the quick arrival of his brothers. He hoped for their advice, experience and support.

Somehow he hoped that they would take the heavy decision from his shoulders and state whether the operation could be performed or not. How could he decide that? His son would die if he did nothing but he could also die even if the difficult procedure was performed.

He slowly rose and walked toward the window, not really looking out. His surroundings had suddenly lost all colour to his eyes. All seemed grey and shapeless.

He did not know how long he had stood there when he suddenly he felt a presence at his back and whirled around. How could he not have noticed someone approaching?

Faramir placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Do not despair, my friend. Your brothers have arrived. They are already on their way up to the fifth level. I hope that they can help your son.”

Aragorn nodded in gratitude. The few sincerely spoken words meant much to him. Faramir was as dear to him as a family member.

“Thank you, Faramir,” Aragorn replied brushing the last tears from his face. If Faramir had seen, he wouldn’t comment on them.

Aragorn straightened his back. He would not let his brothers see his desolate state even if he knew at the same time that his pretence would not work.

To be continued………………….     

Chapter 4:  disillusion

Aragorn left the sick room of his son, after he had made sure that a healer would keep watch constantly.

He walked into the office he had established here at the House of Healing. When his duties allowed he enjoyed working alongside and helping the healers, giving him the opportunity to get in direct contact with Gondor´s populace.

He was sure the twins would come straight to the House of Healing so he would greet them here. It was no surprise when only half an hour later a knock sounded at his office door.

Arwen strode into the room alongside his brothers. Quickly kissing his wife's cheek, he directed his gaze at the two identically tall figures standing just inside the doorway.

Aragorn raised his head. “I’m glad to see you even if I wish it was in happier circumstances.”

For a moment, he felt awkward as the twins did not react nor did they come any closer. However, the hesitation only lasted for a second. Elrohir finally strode forward and enveloped the King into a tight hug.

“Oh Estel, we are glad to see you too and we are so sorry about what happened to Eldarion. We have come as quickly as possible.”

Aragorn had to swallow at the affection displayed, the strain and worry of the last days taking its toll. For a few seconds the man clung to the slightly taller elf as if the sheer presence of this ancient being could change everything. Elrohir did not mind only tightened his arms around the man’s shoulders.

This was one reason why Aragorn had chosen this room for their welcome. The elves would never disrespect his status in public; in fact, they would never show any emotion among strangers.

When Aragorn released the younger twin he was instantly enveloped in another hug, similar and yet different. Elladan said nothing but the same affection was evident in his touch.

After a short time Aragorn stepped back and sighed, relieved as he saw that Elrohir had placed his arm around his sister’s shoulders.

“Your rooms are ready; you are surely tired from….”

When Elladan held up his hand, the King stopped in mid-sentence.

“Estel, the journey was trying yes, but we want to see your son first. If we have understood your message correctly then we have no time to lose.”

Aragorn nodded. This was the older twin. Always coming straight to the point.

At Arwen´s distressed sound Elrohir only tightened his hold. After a quick glance toward his wife, and her nodded agreement, Aragorn took a deep breath.

“You are right. His health deteriorates with every passing minute. Two hours ago he slipped into a coma.”

The twins faces had sobered with Aragorn's words and the man had not missed the look Elrohir had sent his brother.

“Let us see for ourselves, then we can decide on further actions,” Elrohir suggested and his deep and gentle voice seemed to have a soothing effect. Aragorn nodded and motioned the elves to follow him. Arwen had already left the room, hurrying ahead.

…………………………………………

Aragorn stood aside while the elves examined his son. Arwen sat on the edge of a chair letting neither her brothers nor her son out of her sight.

She refrained from saying anything however. Just like their father, the brothers also tolerated no interruptions while working on a patient.

Elladan and Elrohir took their time, examining the little boy thoroughly. They even loosened the bandage around the child's head to take a closer look at the head wound. They spoke no words, yet Aragorn was sure they were communicating briskly via their mind speech.

Although the head wound seemed improved to Aragorn's eyes, he knew that the problem was located deeper beneath the skull. Again he shuddered thinking about the surgery they intended to do, if the twins approved of the procedure.

Eventually Elladan motioned for all present to leave the room. His face revealed nothing of his thoughts. Aragorn did not know if the strained expression on Elrohir´s face meant good or ill.

When Arwen opened her mouth to protest Elladan only looked at his sister and instantly they came to some sort of acquiescence that Aragon could only guess at.

Back in Aragorn’s office the twins looked briefly at one another. As always Elladan took the lead.

“Arwen, Estel, the state of your son's health is very serious and we have not one more minute to waste, however I’m not sure if we should perform this surgery.”

Aragorn and Arwen looked equally shocked at these words. They had expected much discussion, weighing of options, even some critical remarks, but not an outright denial.

“Why?” Arwen cried and looked at her brothers, bewildered. Elladan answered the gaze with a blank expression, yet Aragorn knew his brother well enough to look behind the built up self-control. Even though he had nearly cried out with the same irritation, he waited patiently to hear how the elf would justify his decision.

Yet instead of Elladan, his bother Elrohir answered the question.

“Arwen, Estel, we have only performed this surgery twice before, and both times the patients died. The risk of infection is great and we do not know how much damage has already been done. We do not want to risk the life of your son. Perhaps we must accept fate.”

Despite the cruel words the elves' faces remained passive and blank. Arwen´s face contorted in anger.

“How can you say this?” she cried, her gaze wavering between her brothers.

“If the is any hope of rescuing our son then you two must take it….,” her last words were drowned in tears. She had stormed forward and was now pounding her fists against Elladan´s chest in a helpless gesture of devastation.

Elladan let her proceed until she had exhausted her initial rage. Finally he pulled her into a tight hug while looking at his brother over her head.

Aragorn had closed his eyes in sorrow. As sceptical as he was at first, he had hoped that the twins could rescue his young son. Now all was lost. By no means would he perform this operation alone, nor would he allow Master Tarostar or anyone else other than his brothers to do it.

When his wife’s sobs had subsided the door was suddenly pushed open. The young healer Aragorn had assigned to watch over Eldarion was standing in the doorway, panting.

“My… Lords, my Lady,” the healer addressed the room’s occupants stumbling over the twins presence. Tearing his gaze from the elves the healer looked straight at his King after a brief bow.

“You son is having difficulty breathing. You must come quickly.”

The young man had barely finished his sentence when Aragorn, the twins and Arwen streamed out of the room.

Hastening down the corridor where the sickrooms were located, Aragorn did not care about the bewildered looks following him and the elves.

Reaching the door he yanked it open, startling Master Tarostar who was bent over his son’s bed. Aragron blanched when he heard the agonized, harsh sounds Eldarion was making in a fruitless attempt to draw breath. The boy’s lips were already blue and his little fingers clawed desperately into the sheets.

Without hesitation the twins stepped forward and sat left and right on the mattress. Tarostar narrowed his eyes but stepped back without comment. He had not yet met the brothers of his Queen, yet he knew of them and it was not hard for him to identify the tall elves.

Aragorn had the presence of mind to squeeze the arm of the healer in thanks before he stepped next to his son’s bed. Arwen was perched on the mattress edge next to her son’s head, her eyes filled with tears.

The brothers did not react outwardly to their feelings. They had both closed their eyes and had placed their hands on the exposed chest of the boy. Aragorn’s gaze was glued to his son’s torso.

He had often seen his father perform a healing trance but each time he was fascinated. His hands could emit healing power but it was nothing compared to what the elves could do. Within minutes the seizures stopped and the boy was breathing more easily. After a while the bluish tinge on his lips lessened and his cramped muscles relaxed.

The twins opened their eyes and after slowly breaking the contact they stood. Master Tarostar blinked. He was not sure what had just happened.

Aragorn looked first at Arwen and then at his brothers. He was well aware that this was only a short reprieve. Eldarion´s state was critical and a decision had to be made immediately.

“I will take my leave,” Tarostar suddenly said into the deafening silence.

“No, please stay,” Elladan said quickly. Arwen´s head snapped around, her gaze fixed on her brother. “What we have to say now concerns you too.”

The healer inclined his head while Aragorn furrowed his brow. What would come now? If the twins repeated their denial, why did they need the Master Healer?

After Elladan had looked at all in the room and received a nod from his brother he cleared his throat.

“We must revise our earlier statement. Whatever surgery can be done must be performed immediately, without further delay. We will perform this surgery but with two conditions that must be met.”

While Aragorn narrowed his eyes and Arwen slowly stood up from the bed Elladan continued, his gaze piercing both concerned parents.

“First, we will need help but it will be that of Master Tarostar, if he is willing, and not you Estel. Second WE will decide if or when it makes no more sense to continue the operation.”

Aragorn stumbled back as if he had received a blow. Why wasn't he allowed to assist in healing his son? His hands had more healing powers than any other men and he was the most experienced healer in all of Gondor. Additionally, it was his son’s life they were fighting for.

“And that’s just the reason why you should not be involved,” Elrohir suddenly said calmly next to his ear. Aragorn nearly jumped. He had not realized the younger twin had moved.

With an angry glare Aragorn looked at his brother. He felt blindsided and dismantled, yet before he could express his anger Arwen had stepped next to him.

“Maybe it’s the best decision, love. You are too emotionally involved. It would help neither our son, nor you.”

Still angry at being told what to do Aragorn slowly let rationality return to his thoughts. After some honest analysis, he relented.

“Maybe you are right,” he said at no one in particular.

“Master Tarostar, if you are willing to assist I would be very grateful.”

The palace healer did not look overly pleased, but his next words belied his expression.

“I would be honoured to help, my Lords,” he answered.

“Then this is settled,” Elladan announced ignoring his still angry brother. “We want to start immediately.”

With a last look at his unconscious child, Aragorn turned and left the room.

To be continued………………     

that´s for you, dear Arthur!

Chapter 5:  a difficult endeavour

Much time had passed since the doors to the room where his son's operation was occurring had closed.

Aragorn could barely manage the suspense any longer. He was walking up and down in a nearby waiting room, annoying not only other people waiting but the occasionally appearing healers as well. No one said anything, though. Despite discretion, the news about his son´s accident had spread throughout the city. Faramir had outdone himself, shielding the King from many of Gondor's more annoying inhabitants, yet he couldn't be in all places at once.

Aragorn stood and walked across the room again. He estimated the elapsed time must be nearly four hours now. He did not know if that was a good sign or a bad one. He had total confidence in his brothers´ abilities and knew they would do all in their power to rescue his young son, yet even their skills had limits.

Even Faramir hadn't managed to calm his fraying nerves, and Arwen had left them to take a short walk around the gardens of healing. She was as worried as her husband was, yet she could not tolerate another minute within the massive stone walls. As much as she had adapted to her new life as a Queen of men, sometimes her elven heritage took precedence.

Anger still gnawed at Aragorn´s mind for having been forbidden to assist in the surgery. But, if he was honest with himself, he knew that his brothers´ decision was right. It was possible that at a critical moment he would be unable to make the right decision because he was too emotionally involved.

A quick glance at Faramir told him that his friend was irritated by his constant walking up and down, but he could not help it. Faramir wouldn't say anything, but Aragorn knew that his friend’s nerves were as strained as his own.

Finally Aragorn let himself sink once again into the deep cushions of the couch. He closed his eyes with a sigh. He was unaware that the waiting room had emptied of all other people except Faramir.

During the long hours of waiting the steward left several times, giving orders to arriving runners and receiving news from his office.

When the door opened again, expecting Faramir´s return, Aragorn did not look up. He jerked his head up when he heard his brother’s gentle voice calling out to him.

“Estel, we need to make a decision,” Elrohir said. Aragorn swallowed and an icy fist was squeezing his heart. He could barely stand the gaze of the elf looking at him with an unreadable expression. He sprang to his feet with lightning speed.

“How is Eldarion doing?” he asked, his voice cracking from disuse and strain.

Elrohir did not answer only motioned Aragorn to follow him. Used to the elves´ attitude long since, Aragorn simply followed him knowing that more questions would bring him no answers. The long and hurried strides of his brother clarified that time was still their foe.

Before he had a chance to estimate the elf’s demeanour they had reached the operating room. Elrohir opened the door without hesitation. Aragorn took a deep breath before he strode through.

He swallowed. Eldarion was laying on a heightened work table clad only in a fine white linen trouser his upper body bare. His head was covered with a thin white cloth so that he could not see his son’s face. Elladan was standing next to the table also clad in white, yet the apron was spotted with blood. He was looking at him with the same unreadable expression Elrohir was displaying.

Before Aragorn could demand information Elladan began to speak.

“Estel, even if I have decided the best way to proceed, I do not want to make this decision over your head. We must remove a large blood clot to reduce the pressure on Eldarion's brain. We have never done this before. It will bring the change he must have, but it might also end your son’s life instantly.”

Aragorn looked at the elf in horror. How could he speak about such a thing without emotion?

After sending an equally irritated look at his brother, Elrohir turned toward the King.

“Estel, you must make the decision. Your son’s health is fragile. The procedure Elladan is discussing is very dangerous, but if it is successful, Eldarion will have a chance to survive. If we do nothing, your son will die with certainty.”

Aragorn fought his tears. How could he decide? His son would die without intervention but his chances of survival were marginal at best if he conceded. Neither option was appealing. Closing his eyes briefly and taking a calming breath he looked up and his gaze became steady. If there was even the smallest chance that his son would survive he would grasp it.

“Do it!” was all he forced out while directing a glare at Elladan. He was no longer able to suffer the blank expression on the older twin’s face. He was only glad the Arwen had not witnessed this scene. He wondered where she was, but was convinced that her brothers had made sure she kept her distance.

Without another word and after a nod from Elrohir, Aragorn turned on his heel and left the room. He didn't want to witness his son’s death while standing by helplessly. He went in search of Arwen. She would feel their son’s struggle more keenly than he. Maybe he could find some comfort with her, and offer her consolation in return.

Aragorn jerked his head up feeling a change in the air. After he had found his wife in the garden they had moved into the small conservatory where they had a clear view of the House of Healing. Here, in the beautiful park, they awaited the outcome of the surgery. They had held each other and wept, but now they had both accepted whatever fate the Valar had appointed for them and Eldarion. As much as he dreaded having one of his brothers arrive to give them news, he was equally reluctant to hear the news that might be brought.

He jerked his head toward the entrance of the hospital when Arwen inhaled sharply and squeezed his arm painfully. Coming down the stone pathway, however, was not one of the twins but rather, a very good friend.

“Legolas!” Aragorn breathed. A few days earlier, he had thought about informing the elf, but with everything that had happened, he had totally forgotten about it. Who, then, had informed the elf?

He raised an eyebrow at his wife. Arwen smiled.

“Legolas had also been invited to your birthday, my love. You have again forgotten about that.”

Aragorn sighed. His birthday, yes! The event was so unimportant at the moment that he did not waste any thoughts about it, yet the preparations could not be stopped. There were only three months to go. Even if Legolas was responding to the invitation to his birthday celebration he was glad that the elf had arrived early. The grave expression on the elf’s face told him that the archer had already been informed about Eldarion's condition.

When the elf reached them he first kissed Arwen on the cheeks and then embraced his friend in a tight hug. It was unusual for the wood elf to show such emotion in public, so Aragorn appreciated the gesture all the more.

“Estel, I’m so sorry,” the archer breathed in a soft voice that only the King could hear.

Aragorn choked back a sob and squeezed Arwen's hand tightly. He pulled back and took a deep breath.

“Thank you my friend for your sympathy and your…being here,” Aragorn replied. He motioned the elf to sit beside them on the bench surrounding a large tree trunk.

Legolas simply nodded but kept standing, his face turned up to catch the rays of the sun. Arwen closed her eyes simultaneously and both elves suddenly seemed fey. Aragorn watched them silently and again wondered if he would ever understand the core of these mysterious beings. He had grown up among them, had lived with them and had even married one of them, but sometimes he felt far distanced from their thoughts.

The moment lasted only for a short time, then it was gone and the eternal beings appeared again, a bit earthier.

As if nothing had happened Legolas sat gracefully next to the King his eyes directed at the royal couple.

“Aragorn, Arwen, I just spoke with Faramir when I arrived but he was very reluctant and cautious about saying what had happened to your son.”

Aragorn smiled. That was just like Faramir, yet he was glad for such a servant. Farmir´s thoughtful attitude always helped to prevent rumours from running rampant. He took a deep breath.

“Two days ago Eldarion fell from the scaffold around the citadel. He was playing there with his friends.”

A short flicker of the elf´s eyes toward the great tower was the only reaction to the King’s words. Patiently the elf waited until Aragorn continued, although he could guess what would come next. It was Arwen, however, who spoke since Aragorn still struggled to find words.

“Eldarion hit his head hard during the fall. A blood clot in his brain was the consequence, resulting in a life-threatening situation. My brothers are attempting to remove the clot to lessen the pressure on his brain.”

Arwen lowered her gaze now, also fighting for words and holding her tears in check. Legolas' eyes had widened in shock. He had expected something ill, yet the possible consequences, even if the elven twins were successful, only occurred to him now.

The royal couple and the elven prince sat there for many moments silent and wrapped up in their thoughts. Legolas could make a good guess about what must be going on in Aragorn’s and Arwen´s minds. He was also an only child and a prince no less. His father had always been very protective and overly cautious, to an extent that had unnerved him greatly during his years of childhood and in his first adult years. Today he understand the actions of his father and had often offered him a silent apology.

Feeling that the couple needed some time in private to compose themselves, Legolas rose.

“Arwen, Aragorn, I’m so sorry and I hope with all my heart that the twins will be successful. That’s sadly the only assistance I can give. I will pray to the Belain for your son’s recovery.”

While Arwen did not react, Aragorn rose and embraced the archer with a whispered "Thank you." More words were unnecessary.

Just as Legolas began to take his leave, one of the double doors to the House of Haling opened and Elrohir strode down the paved pathway toward the small group.

Torn between the wish to stay and learn how Eldarion fared, but not wanting to intrude in a family matter, Legolas´ gaze was glued to the approaching figure like Arwen´s and Aragorn’s were.

Before he could reach a decision the younger twin had reached them. Elrohir inclined his head in his direction and Legolas returned the gesture. Seeing no dismissal in the peredhil's gaze, Legolas decided to stay.

Too emotionally overwrought Arwen sprang up and stepped in front of her brother.

“Elrohir how is Eldarion? Did the surgery go well?” she asked. Her voice held a shrill undertone caused by her fear.

Legolas observed the younger twin closely. Elrohir allowed no expression to show what news he was about to deliver. He had thrown a tunic over his blood stained apron, but patches were seeping through the thin material.

Arwen and Aragorn however were not children anymore and they had clearly seen the state their son was in. It was the message the younger brother bore that was important, not his appearance.

“Arwen, Aragorn,” Elrohir began. His voice sounded very restrained.

“Eldarion lives. We were able to remove the blood clot and, hopefully, lessen the pressure on his brain. He is still in a coma and we cannot yet determine if our intervention was successful. Only time will tell how much damage may have been done.”

Even though delivered thoughtfully and carefully, the words hit Legolas like a blow. Until now, he had not considered that even in the case of a successful surgery, there could still be lasting negative consequences for the boy.

Elrohir´s words however had clearly confirmed this secondary worry. Legolas sank back on the bench with a sigh, while Arwen and Aragorn hurried toward their son's chamber in the House of Healing.

Gray eyes met blue ones and both elves closed their eyes in mutual despair.

To be continued…………………..

A/N:

I´m sorry for the long delay but thanks to my new beta reader here is the next chapter for you- hope you enjoy!

Chapter 6:  waiting, waiting, endless waiting

Two month had now passed since the surgery. To Aragorn´s and Arwen´s great joy Eldarion had woken after three days of waiting, hoping and trepidation. Yet the initial happiness had quickly given way to sobering reality.

The boy could only stay awake for short periods of time, he had trouble in following words spoken to him, much less answer with something comprehensible and worst of all he could not walk. His left leg seemed paralysed and his arm was also not functioning correctly.

Even if the twins kept telling them that they must have more patience, Aragorn and Arwen had trouble accepting the cruel truth. Aragorn was a healer himself and knew how slow such healing processes could be, yet Eldarion was partly Elf and so he had hoped for a quicker recovery.

Day after day, they practised with the boy; today even Legolas had taken him riding. This did bring a real improvement and Aragorn could not thank the Elf enough when he saw the pure joy in his son’s face after the Elf’s white stallion had galloped over the Pelennor Fields, Legolas’ arms securely around the child’s body. This evening, Eldarion had for the first time reached out at his mother and tried to hug her, even with his paralyzed arm. Arwen had cried tears of joy and the royal couple had slept better that night.

What brought nightmares to the King’s mind, however was that his son only reacted to others. He always needed a stimulation to interact, never did he do something on his own impulse. And what unnerved him most was that Eldarion could still not articulate even the simplest of words.

The twins had done a great job in massaging the limp muscles and stimulating them, they played question and answer games with an amazing patience. Legolas’ presence each day was a highlight as he took Eldarion out riding or fishing.

Yet, it had been days since they had seen any real improvement anymore. On the contrary. Eldarion got more and more introverted, no longer even interested in riding. Aragorn observed this process with growing concern. One day, when Eldarion made a major fuss while being dressed, he went in search of his brothers. He had recognized that Elladan at least had observed the boy during the last days intently.

He had intended to take Arwen along but he could not find his wife anywhere the King´s House. This puzzled him because Arwen had never left Eldarion´s side for more then the blink of an eye. The boy was in the care of Legolas right now, but Arwen had always kept a precise watch over where her son was going and for how long.

Aragorn shook his head. Maybe it was a good idea to talk to the twins alone. He found them in their private quarters. Aragorn felt guilty, but was at the same time very glad that the Elves had taken over the supervising of his son’s recovery.

He opened the door after knocking and was greeted by a soft spoken “enter”. No one, apart from Arwen and himself, were allowed to enter these quarters uninvited. Elladan was casually lounging on a rocking chair on the open balcony door, gazing out over the Pelennor while Elrohir was dozing on a settee. Elladan smiled at his entrance and swung his long legs onto the floor to greet his human foster brother with a hug.

“I expected you, albeit earlier,” the older twin said with a smile, even if the mirth did not reach his eyes.

“Much earlier”, Elrohir confirmed while stretching and greeting his foster brother in the same fashion.

Aragorn sighed and joined the elven brothers on the balcony. Before he could utter a word, though, Elladan was placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Aragorn we know what you want to ask us and this is our answer. We can no longer help your son’s recovery. Healing will now come on its own or never.”

Aragorn closed his eyes and swallowed hard. Even if the words were spoken softly and he knew the well- meant advice behind it, the directness of Elves still rattled him, even after all these years.

“You are leaving then?” Aragorn asked not able to keep the despondency out of his voice.

“Of course not,” Elrohir said while leaning his arms onto the balcony rail touching thus his shoulder with that of the King. “In two month’ time is your birthday, Estel, the main reason why we came here, or is that already forgotten?”

Aragorn whirled around angrily.

“I do not care about this stupid birthday. As if I have nothing else to concern me. I only wish…..”

His words faltered and he buried his face in his hands. Elrohir came over and embraced the tall human again.

“Estel do not despair. Not all is lost yet. Eldarion is young and much can happen. Give him time.”

Elrohir looked over the head of the slightly smaller human at his foster brother. He had spoken much the same words to his sister not half an hour ago. He doubted that Aragorn had known about his wife’s visit. His spoken words, however, were the truth. Had Eldarion been an adult he doubted that anything could still improve but with children, you never knew. They had healing abilities beyond comprehension of Man or Elf.

After Aragorn had disentangled himself from the Elf’s embrace, he composed himself.

“You are right of course. We only must have more patience. Eldarion is partly elven after all; this will surely outmatch his human side.”

Elladan and Elrohir looked up sharply at this comment, yet before they could say anything further, the King had turned and slammed the door shut.

…………………………………

Elrohir looked at his brother dismayed. Now they had found out where the real core of the problem was rooted. They had observed that since the accident Aragorn kept a mysterious distance to his son. He did all to ensure that Eldarion had the best of care, but he seemed to have a major reluctance to interact with the handicapped boy. Eldarion did sense this, even if on an unconscious level and so the meetings between father and son were awkward and strained.

Already plagued with much self-reproach, Aragorn did indeed blame his human heritage that his son was not recovering as hoped for. Elrohir looked at Elladan, but the older twin had pressed his lips into a thin line. Elrohir sighed inwardly. Not a situation Elladan was comfortable with. Nonetheless, they had to do something.

The recovery of the boy was now more a mental than a bodily challenge. He would need the strong guidance and love of both of his parents. As attached as Eldarion was to his mother, his great admiration and bond was with his father. He worshiped the King and was always striving to walk into his beloved father’s boots.

A plan slowly forming in his mind, Elrohir directed a determined gaze at his brother’s back. Elladan turned and raised a sceptical eyebrow.

………………………………………..

Aragorn walked aimlessly along the streets of the city. He had donned his Ranger garb, as he always did when he wanted to roam the city undetected.

This time however, he was not interested in the people’s opinions nor in rumours only heard when walking among the folk; he just wanted to think undisturbed. He used alleyways apart from the circling pathways and walked along lanes he had not ever known existed. Without much effort, he had eluded his royal guards.

He wanted to blend into the mass of people waving back and forth in the streets.

He did not know how long he had wandered when a driving rain set in. His hood already in place he dragged it deeper into his face, all the while searching for a little tavern to get some hot soup or something similar.

He entered a tavern and chose a small alcove to dine. He had no desire to talk, or be addressed by one of the guests. Some gathering was taking place, the crowd were cheering and applauding at something the innkeeper had said.

He had barely taken a seat when a middle-aged woman came straight toward him, a mug of ale in her hand. Before he could protest, the ale was pressed into his hand and for a short moment, he feared to be detected.

“This one’s on the house, good sir,” she cried. “Come feast with us, our son is soon to be wed and we are celebrating.”

Aragorn sighed, not really wanting to participate. He was just about to decline politely when the young couple came into the bar room.

He swallowed. The young lad was propped on two crutches, his left leg amputated. His bride was a nice young girl. She was circling her arm securely around her love’s waist, real love shining from her eyes.

“Do they not look lovely together?” the woman next to him suddenly whispered. Aragorn looked up startled, having forgotten the mother nearby.

His unvoiced question must have been evident from his expression.

“He lost his leg during the war of the ring. It was a hard time for us all, but everything changed when Firiel came in our life. She seemed not to be bothered by his disability, in fact, it was she who encouraged him to take back his life and find a profession suitable for his limitations. Now he delivers the mail to little outlying villages.  On a specially trained horse with a fitted saddle and is earning his own money. They are so happy, and if I’m not much mistaken they greatly desire a child. I’m so happy too.”

Aragorn could only nod and reply with half- hearted congratulations before he quickly left the tavern with a muttered excuse. Quickly, he walked through the streets back toward the King’s House. Suddenly, he knew exactly what to do.

Regardless whether his son would recover, or be handicapped for the rest of his life, he would do all he could to give him a chance in life. He would no longer grieve for a lost future, but accept what happened and make the best of it. How could he have been so blind? Life would go on and with help Eldarion would manage.

Of course he loved his son just as he had done before his accident, but now he would no longer look back and be hampered with what could not be altered, now he would look forward and fight for and with his son.

To be continued……………….

Chapter 7:  a gift for the King

Aragorn applauded when another artiste had ended his performance. For two days now the celebrations for his 95th birthday had been in full progress. As much as he disliked the fuss concerning him, he had to play along and endure the many performances in his honour.

Even though most of the entertainment was high quality and created with much consideration, his thoughts were always straying to his family, and of course to his son in particular. Eldarion had made some progress after his father had set aside his stupid resentment and after he had demonstrated the deep love he felt for his son, yet the boy was still but a shadow of his former self.

Eldarion could not accept his restrictions and had become withdrawn. Seldom did he show his feelings or let anyone come near enough to get a glimpse of his soul. Not even Arwen could reach her son’s fea fully of late.

The last two month Aragorn had barely if at all, time to spend with his son. Many ambassadors had to be greeted and accommodated; meetings followed each other with no time for a break.

Arwen had left his side two hours ago, the twins were nowhere to be seen and even Legolas had appeared to have vanished into thin air. Until now he had not found one minute to excuse himself. Irritated, he looked around to get a glimpse of Faramir, but his councillor also was conspicuous by his absence.

This was strange. Where had they all vanished to? Aragorn wished nothing more than to see his son and spend these days with him. Maybe Eldarion would find some joy in the many colourful spectacles, yet it seemed that everyone had conspired to keep him apart from his son these last two days.

He knew that this was absurd, but what was behind the absence of Arwen and all his friends right now? Soon he was engaged in another talk with a major of a small town on the outskirts of Gondor and dutifully listening to the many problems and proposals of various people.

…………………………………………………….

Arwen looked around the corner and quickly stepped back when Aragorn looked towards her just at that moment. She sighed with relief that he had not glimpsed her then smiled at Legolas who was standing right behind her.

“We should start unless he gets suspicious, more so than he already is,” she declared. Legolas nodded and gave the signal. The spectacle could begin…..

…………………………………………………….

Aragorn rose. He had had enough. For three days now, his birthday celebrations had been going on with no respite for him. Even during the evenings and long into the night, the feasting had continued. Always there were new guests he had to satisfy with his presence. There was barely enough time for a quick good night kiss for his wife and son, and he had fallen in bed deadly tired.

The celebrations could surely go on without him for the time being. He wanted to take a bath, to look after Eldarion, to talk to Arwen…….

Just as the din in the great hall had lessened a little due to his signal, a fanfare was heard. Aragorn closed his eyes briefly. Great - another performance! Before he could do anything, Faramir had stepped onto a dais asking for silence. At least his Steward had reappeared. With renewed interest, Aragorn listened to what Faramir had to propose. Discretely he looked around but again could again not glimpse Arwen, his brothers, Legolas, or his son somewhere.

Faramir had announced a tournament was to be held and Aragorn raised an eyebrow in surprise. About this, he had known nothing and he could not glimpse any preparations for such a performance.

Then however, he blinked when those taking part entered the area in front of the citadel. Aragorn instantly smiled. The combatants were all children mounted on little ponies led by their little squires.

At the end of the row came a knight fully clothed in shining silver armour with a helmet with a closed visor.

Aragorn narrowed his eyes. Amongst the children someone ran clothed in a ridiculous multi-coloured outfit, darting back and forth between the ponies, patting the little animals and shoving a slipped backside gently back into the saddles. Aragorn shook his head with a laugh. Legolas had also re-appeared.

Aragorn had not to wait long to be surprised by his other missing friends. Two identically clad standard-bearers walked regally up the pathway, their eyes never straying from the King. Aragorn had to suppress a smile at the sober expressions of his brothers. If only Arwen could be here to see this, but his wife was surely with their son and he was grateful for that.

“You err again, my King,” Arwen whispered next to his ear before she took a graceful seat next to her husband. Aragorn smiled at her, even if he regretted that they had to give the care of their son into other hands.

Arwen squeezed his fingers and for a moment an odd expression flittered over her face. Before Aragorn could contemplate what he had seen, the twins had reached the dais he was sitting on. With an overblown gesture, both elves bowed deeply.

“My Lord King, may we proudly present to you the best little fighters throughout your mighty Kingdom, along with the fearsome knight Lord Celevon.”

`…….silver indeed….´ Aragorn mused when he regarded the “fearsome knight” closely. His armour was really glittering and flashing into the sun. The boy, or was it a girl, could be not older than ten years. Through the closed visor he could not glimpse the “knight’s” face.

“Do you accept the offer to fight for you, my Lord?” Elladan asked with a deadly serious expression. Aragorn had to suppress a smile and answered with the same earnestness in his voice.

“I accept the offer on one condition. The knight has to show his face after the tournament. I need to know what mighty warriors Gondor has to offer.”

Elladan briefly reflected on that demand and inclined his head eventually.

“The knight will reveal his identity if he is victorious. He expects to be assigned to your troops then.”

Aragorn inclined his head.

“That can be arranged,” he answered, giving the signal for the combat to start. And the tournament began. Aragorn had to smile how thoughtfully the little games were considered; not overtaxing the children nor bringing them into any real danger. This was surely Faramir´s doing.

Silently Aragorn thanked his friends for this welcome interruption from all the political talks with ambassadors. But not only he was delighted by the children’s performance, the whole audience was highly amused, showering the children with much applause.

Aragorn narrowed his eyes when he recognized that Legolas was never straying far from the boy playing the knight. His performance was good, but obviously, the boy had some trouble staying on the little pony when the animal made an awkward step. By the end of the tournament, the knight had won and knocked all his combatants out of the game. Legolas and the twins were managing everything well so there were no real losers.

Now the “fearsome knight” came up the pathway, presenting himself to the King. Elladan and Elrohir were standing to the left and right and Legolas was leading the pony.

“My Lord, may we present to you, the victorious Knight, Lord Celevon.” Elrohir made a deep bow and gestured toward the still mounted child.

Aragorn smiled and rose with Arwen beside him.

“We thank thee for thou great performance, but before I consider taking thee into my ranks, Sir Knight, you must reveal your identity.”

Legolas helped the boy from the pony and accompanied the child until the “knight” was standing right in front of the King.

“My Lord, consider your loyal servant Eldarion Telcontar,” the Elf pronounced and before Aragorn could gasp, the boy had taken off his helmet.

Aragorn nearly missed a step when he came down and knelt in front of his son. The boy was smiling all over his face, no he was glowing with pride and joy and laughing outright, enjoying the moment greatly.

Aragorn could only hug his little boy, all his strain and worry for a moment forgotten. After a while, father and son released one another and Aragorn looked long and deep into his son’s eyes and saw a new courage to face life. When Arwen moved to stand beside them Aragorn looked up in wonder.

“Have you seen what he has done?” he asked, at the same time realizing his question sounded stupid.

“Yes, my love, I have seen it,” Arwen announced while hugging her son too. When the audience began to applaud and the din did not subside, Aragorn looked up and right into the eyes of the three Elves standing in the background. He knew exactly whom he had to thank for his son’s transformation and who had made possible.

………………………………………

Later that evening after he had kissed his son goodnight, Aragorn returned to the comfortable sitting room where all his friends were already gathered.

He could still not believe what great progress Eldarion had made. If one didn’t know, they would not be aware that the boy was hampered in any way. Aragorn knew that he was deceiving himself. The evening procedure of bringing Eldarion to bed had again shown how much help the child still needed, yet he was well on the road to recovery.

When he had closed the door to the sitting room Aragorn looked into the open faces of his brothers, his friends, and of course his wife. He did not know how he could express his thanks, he had so many emotions difficult to put into words.

Elladan suddenly rose, pressed a flagon filled with deep red wine into his hand and steered the King toward a comfortable seat.

“No words needed, brother. We are all glad that our intervention worked. Eldarion will recover. He has still some way ahead but he will manage now. Drink your wine; it’s YOUR birthday after all.”

Aragorn swallowed when Arwen right next to him squeezed his hand. He took a hearty draught.

“Thank you,” he murmured softly, but he was sure that at least the elves had heard him.

“You are welcome,” Faramir answered equally softly Aragorn closed his eyes in gratitude. The worst was over. Gondor´s future and his own no longer looked dark.

 The End.