CHAPTER 29:  MANY MEETINGS

Outside the cave that Aragorn and Legolas had shared for the past few days, a clear path led to the stables where Rallias was tethered. Yet, Aragorn felt that the walk from one place to the other today was one of the longest and most difficult he had ever had to make in his life.

Each step he took away from the cave was torture, as if his legs were chained to several full metal chests, and with each inch he moved forward, he had to fight hard not to turn back, for he was being forced to leave behind the friend he most loved, to undertake a task for the man who – in a moment of madness – might well bring about the demise of that friend.

Unshed tears blurred his vision of the path underfoot, but soon – and too quickly for his liking – he found himself at the stables, where Pöras and Brûyn were already waiting for him. His heart fell when he realized that the unpleasant men were to be his companions to Ithilien. Hiding his displeasure and accepting what he could not refuse, Aragorn focused on harnessing Rallias silently and thinking about his elven friend. Närum, who had walked from the cave with Aragorn, stood nearby, silent and pensive. Several other men armed with bows and swords were positioned around the Ranger, allowing him no opportunity for a surprise attack.

“You will reach Ithilien by the afternoon of tomorrow, if you do not stop for long,” Sarambaq interrupted his thoughts suddenly, approaching him. “If the elven king is not there yet, make sure he comes within three days, remember. I will wait no longer than that.”

“You assume much, Sarambaq. I can only hope he is already there, for the sake of his son,” Aragorn said angrily.

“Impudent boor!” came the reply. “If you know what is good for you, be thankful that you get to live because of this task, and you had best depart before I change my mind and have you skewered!”

“You should know that you will not get away with this,” Aragorn boldly reminded him. “Even if you take their lives, you and your men will be destroyed, for everyone in the elven realm will hunt you for the rest of your life. Will you not reconsider this one last time?”

At these words, Närum tensed, and many of the men looked expectantly at their Master. Pöras and Brûyn, however, laughed dryly, clearly unmoved. The crazed look they had seen in Sarambaq’s eyes two days ago came back as he took a step closer to the Ranger.

“You know little of what matters to me, and you know nothing of what I have made ready!” the large man said with a sneer. “Let your sole concern be delivering the message I gave you: I want the elf king here – alone. And when he is here, he shall beg me for mercy after all these years. Tell me then to think about fearing the wrath of the elven realm!”

Aragorn thought it best not to rile him any more, for he would not be here to lend his friend any aid should the man decide to vent his anger on the elf.

Seeing Aragorn fall silent, Sarambaq turned his attention to Pöras and Brûyn: “Do not return without the elf king,” he instructed. “Let nothing divert you from that goal.”

“Of course not, Master. I will not fail you,” Pöras said.

“We will not fail you,” Brûyn added, not to be outdone, seething silently. After all, was he not the one who had designed the capture of the elf prince?

From where he stood, Närum interjected unexpectedly with a request of his own. “If the healer can ask for Ködil’s release from wherever he is being held, bring him back with you.”

“Ködil?” Pöras queried skeptically. “Will that not delay us, if we have to negotiate his release?”

Närum’s look hardened as he glowered at Pöras. “He is one of our own, he must return,” he countered boldly, looking towards Sarambaq.

Sarambaq did not seem too pleased with this suggestion, but noticing the anticipation in the faces of Närum and the other men, save Pöras, he decided to concede. “Do it if he does not slow you down,” he instructed. Närum seemed satisfied with this concession, and kept quiet again.

The Ranger finished tightening his pack on Rallias and started to lead him toward the path out of the woods, under the watchful eye of the armed men. As Pöras received final instructions from Sarambaq, he quickly turned to Närum and whispered one final plea to the man, throwing his pride to the wind:

“I beg you, please, in my absence, to take care of the elf prince. It was not he who brought this on, please remember that, and you shall receive my gratitude when the time is right.”

Närum furrowed his brow. He could not understand the final part of the healer’s supplication, but he did not want to press, for it would only mean another sickening outburst from Sarambaq, which he could do without. Partly because he wanted the healer to leave quickly and partly because he sensed some inexplicable truth in what the man had claimed, he nodded his assent discreetly, daring only to say quickly: “Get Ködil released, and we will be even.” 

Aragorn nodded now, almost imperceptibly. As satisfied as he could be with the bargain he had struck under the circumstances, Aragorn mounted his horse and threw one last regretful look in the direction of the cave where Legolas sat alone. With a heart as heavy as lead, he set off with the ambitious Pöras and Brûyn, wishing sadly that it was Legolas beside him instead.

Sarambaq and his men watched their departure till the figures had gone deeper into the woods and were lost among the trees.

Now that he truly had to leave the place, Aragorn forced himself to push his fears for Legolas aside, and to think about reaching the City as soon as possible so that he could design a plan to help the elf. In his heart was a fervent prayer that Thranduil was on his way and that the elf king would have fulfilled his request.

Before long, their horses were trotting out of the woods and on to the plain where Legolas had first encountered the Adhûnians. It was here that the elf had first succumbed to the poison and injuries inflicted upon him, and the memory of the collapsing figure cut Aragorn’s heart like a cold steel blade, for the elf was once again in a precarious position, far from aid. Determined to observe Sarambaq’s three-day ultimatum, the Ranger turned a cold, unsmiling face to the two men with him and said in a tone that invited no debate: “We ride fast, and I will not stop unless it is a matter of life and death. Follow me as you will, but I shall not wait.”

And without another word, he spurred Rallias on, swiftly retracing his journey over plain and through forest, leaving the men no time to consider any other option but to ride furiously after him, for they could not turn back now.

As he had forewarned, the Ranger stopped for neither meal nor rest that eve and night, for a fire was in his veins, a pain was in his heart, and both fueled him far greater than food or drink could. Hunger and tiredness held no meaning for the Ranger as the hours passed, to the consternation of the two Adhûnians. But in the wee hours of the morning, when they had reached the edge of the old battle plain near the southern edge of the Reclaimed Lands, they made camp to let their horses rest, and the two Adhûnians wasted no time in wolfing down a quick cold meal.

It was thus, under the light of a red rising sun that greeted the new day, that King Elessar met the company of men and elves led by Hamille, who had followed their tracks this far.

Joyous was their meeting with him, and relief flooded the elven hearts when they heard that their prince was alive, but the news of Sarambaq’s intentions filled them with ire and anxiety.

Bryûn quickly found himself a captive once more, along with his companion. This they had been prepared for, secure in the knowledge that their captivity would not be for long as they assured themselves and reminded the chagrined elves who would have slain them for their treachery, that their safe – and uninhibited – return was pivotal to the survival of their elf prince.

But it was there, while listening to the talk among the men of Gondor and elves of Ithilien, that the Adhûnians learnt at last, to their utter shock, the true lineage of the healer they had known as Hama, whom they had laughed at and scorned. This was knowledge that Aragorn no longer found necessary to hide, for their coming meeting with Ködil would undoubtedly reveal all.

At the insistence of the King of Gondor, the group rested no more, but pushed themselves and the two angry Adhûnians to ride with all speed back to the White City, although each yard was a painful one away from the elf prince they longed to see again, he who now sat alone and forlorn in captivity.

Eventually, under an afternoon sun that shone upon the white walls of the Gondorian city, Aragorn was once more enveloped in the warm, loving embrace and kisses of his wife and son, and greeted with joy by a highly relieved Steward. It gave him immense satisfaction too, to order accommodations for Pöras and Brûyn in the dungeons of Minas Tirith till it was time for their departure.

But after the reunions, little joy then did Aragorn find in the warm fragrant bath drawn for him, for he knew of an elf who would have delighted in it were he here; nor could he savor the hot meal served to him while he thought of a beloved friend who would be tasting naught but water and cold bread in misery and darkness, if he was fed at all in his absence. When the healers gently tended to his bruises, he wept for the noble elf who had fought heart and soul for his release, whose hurts the healing hands of the king should be soothing with all the love they could give, but who was now left to see to his own wounds. And when the King finally lay his weary head on a soft, clean pillow, it was with a sorrow that was little assuaged by the pleasure of being home. The comfortable bed was as a floor of nails, cutting painfully into a heart that bled for a missing, ailing companion dressed in dirty, bloodied clothes and lying on the cold, hard floor of a cave. Silent tears wet his pillow as his eyes closed, and only his deep exhaustion and the comforting caress of Arwen’s hands prevented haunted dreams from assailing his restless mind.

At twilight, Aragorn awoke from a sleep like that of the dead, to find that two visitors had been waiting to see him, having arrived hours ago just after he had retired, but who had been asked very politely to allow a worn-out Lord Elessar a few hours of rest. 

The king walked into his council room to see his Steward, councilors and elves in deep discussion. But tonight, he only had eyes for one of the waiting visitors, who sat among them, his face drawn and wan with sorrow and anguish from the news he had been furnished.

Aragorn moved to stand in front of him, who likewise rose to face him. After the first exchange of formalities and respectful words, he ascertained that the second visitor had been accorded all the comforts the City could provide, then led the first one to his private office.

Upon entering it, the Lord of Gondor hesitated only a moment before he stepped forward to warmly grasp the hands of one with whom he had only exchanged nods and bows before today.

Aragorn’s own eyes misted over as he spoke once more to the shaken father:

 “I wish we were meeting under more pleasant circumstances, my Lord Thranduil.”