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What child is this?

Éowyn shook her head, impatient at her own weakness. “It is nothing - only after all that has happened today - the sight of these cruel scars!”

Aragorn gently squeezed her fingers before releasing her. “Do not trouble yourself, Éowyn, I must have caused you a great deal of distress over these last two weeks, little though I intended to. It cannot have been pleasant for you to have to sleep here. I cannot even remember what happened when I was very ill.” He gestured towards the bed.

Éowyn shook her head, “It did not distress me, so do not concern yourself over it.” She made a mental note to destroy the letter she had written to Éomer, as soon as she could retrieve it from Faramir’s study in Minas Tirith. Her protective elder brother might not understand. She vowed inwardly never to tell Aragorn about the night they had held him; it would only embarrass him needlessly. “Faramir protected your dignity well, Aragorn,” she reassured him. “He kept the servants away from your bedside, and even I never saw you completely uncovered. I do now so regret treating you so cruelly!”

The King smiled at her reassuringly. “The past is behind us now, Éowyn: Faramir and I can both be fully healed, I assure you. Just one thing I ask of you, to persuade Faramir to undergo my Elvish treatments if he tries to change his mind again?”

“I will do my best,” Éowyn replied, briskly resuming rubbing salve on Aragorn’s broad back.

Much to the King’s relief, she was too preoccupied with her ministrations to question him about the exact nature of the treatment. He was so weary; he struggled not to fall asleep before Éowyn finished her ministrations, despite her less than gentle touch.

“I have finished now,” Éowyn said at last, replacing the jar on the table.

“I should see how the little girl is.” Aragorn replaced his shirt, yawning as he did so. “I will take one of my shirts for her, it should be softer than anything the servants have for her. We must order some proper clothes to be made for the child. Give the housekeeper some money for suitable materials, and tell them to purchase some toys for her to play with too.”

“I will go, you ought to rest,” Éowyn replied, kneeling to help him pull off his boots. Then much to Aragorn’s surprise, she kissed his hand.

Deeply moved, he responded by placing his hand on her head in blessing. He had told Faramir the truth, when he said he loved her as his sister. Now it seemed, she did indeed treat him as a down to earth sister would a brother. He knew he needed a friend to tell him the truth in the midst of all the fawning he encountered. He lay back against the pillows and closed his eyes.

Éowyn made her way to the kitchens. She found Elbeth had been freshly scrubbed and roughly clad in a flour sack. Underneath the grime, she turned out to be an attractive child, with long black hair and large grey eyes, framed by long lashes. With proper nourishment to fill out her stick - like limbs, she could grow up to be very beautiful. Éowyn was relieved that the little girl seemed recovered from her ordeal. The child was sitting beside the housekeeper who was feeding her bread and milk. The stern woman seemed to have softened in the face of the child’s charm.

“How is she?” Éowyn asked.

“She wasn’t very happy about being bathed, but hasn’t she scrubbed up well?” the housekeeper replied, “amazing what soap and water can do! My sister will love her, that’s for certain! She’s a good appetite and my sister will like a child to appreciate her cooking!”

“Come here, Elbeth!” Éowyn said, moving in front of the fire, “I have a gift from the King himself.”

Elbeth cautiously approached as Éowyn held up the shirt.

“Let me look at you, child, let’s get this off you!”

“Why?”

“I am a healer. I need to see if you are hurt. Then you can put this on, which is nice and soft.”

“What’s a healer?”

“Someone who makes sick people better.” Éowyn lifted the sack over the inquisitive child’s head.

“I’m not sick!” Elbeth protested.

To Éowyn’s dismay, the small body was covered by a colourful variety of bruises. Elbeth also had minor burns from the fire she had so narrowly escaped.

“Who hurt you, child?” Éowyn asked gently.

“Mummy or the men she was friends with hit me when I was bad . They said I was a nuisance. Granny only hit me when I didn’t do what she said.”

Éowyn’s heart went out to the unfortunate little girl. She applied the same salve she had been using earlier on Aragorn to the child’s hurts, though with considerably more tenderness. Elbeth wriggled beneath her touch.

“Please keep still!” Éowyn pleaded.

“I don’t like that cold stuff and your fingers tickle!” Elbeth complained.

“All over now, you can put this on,” Éowyn said briskly. She slipped the King’s shirt over Elbeth’s head and rolled up the far too long sleeves.

Although much too big, the shirt fit better than the flour sack, and was infinitely more comfortable, being made of soft cream linen embroidered with the white tree of Gondor.

“This is pretty!” Elbeth smiled, stroking the soft material with her small fingers.

“It belongs to the King himself, so you must take care of it,” said Éowyn.

“I thought a king wore gold and silver clothes.” The child sounded disappointed.

Éowyn laughed. “Don’t you think he would itch if he did?” she said. ”It would be worse than that flour sack!” She smiled at the child, then gave the housekeeper the money together with the King’s instructions. “Be certain your sister spends all of it on the child, or she with feel the King’s wrath!” Éowyn said as she handed over the money. “He is a most stern lord!”

“I will do as you say,” the woman promised, smiling. ”Though, I hardly think my Lord King can be as harsh as you say, he appears to have a soft heart!”

Éowyn smiled enigmatically. After bidding Elbeth to be good, she returned to her husband and Aragorn. They were both sleeping soundly. Rather to her surprise, Faramir was smiling in his sleep and murmuring her name. Satisfied all was well, she settled down beside him to rest before the evening meal.

000

The next day, Faramir awoke feeling refreshed. He was seemingly fully recovered from his ordeal of the day before.

Éowyn had no idea exactly how Aragorn’s healing arts had helped Faramir, but was extremely grateful for his skills. It mattered not whether she understood, only that Aragorn was a wise and compassionate man. She took Windfola for a ride, happy in the knowledge that her husband and the King would take good care of one another in her absence.

Aragorn had decided to treat Faramir’s shoulder again to help him endure the rigours of the long ride ahead on the morrow.

Though less apprehensive than before, Faramir still felt ill at ease. He settled himself on the footstool by Aragorn’s chair. Reluctantly, he prepared to remove his shirt. How could he ever be comfortable having his scarred and puny frame scrutinised by one who looked so like his father, and in bright daylight too? He tensed at the very thought.

To Faramir’s consternation, Aragorn slid from the chair and settled himself on the pelts, which served as a hearthrug, stretching his long legs out by the fire.

“Sire, you should not be lower than I!” Faramir protested, moving to sit on the floor beside him.

“Nor should I be higher and please do not be so formal in private!” Aragorn replied. ”The more comfortable you are for this, the better. I can see you are ill at ease and desire to ease your mind as best I may. This house does not have a couch and the bed is too high, so the floor will have to suffice. It is as good a place as any to treat your hurts. I need you to relax, reach out with your mind, and accept what healing I can give. Elven healing is unique. It is only successful if both healer and patient want it to be.”

Faramir nodded and slowly unlaced his shirt. Aragorn was right; he was indeed more comfortable like this.

“Leave your shirt on if you, wish.” Aragorn told him, “Ideally, I should massage your shoulders, but alas, my fingers are too painful today, so I will do that another time for you.”

Faramir tried to pull his shirt aside to simply bare his shoulder before realising he was acting foolishly. Aragorn had after all, seen his scarred body before without deriding him. Rather to his own surprise and greatly to the King’s, he pulled the shirt over his head. He sat beside the King and tried to relax and open his mind, reaching out to receive as Aragorn’s hands hovered over his injury. Warmth and energy flowed from the King’s hands into his damaged shoulder. Faramir felt the pain and stiffness flow away. “You do not receive my pain when you take it away, do you?” Faramir asked in sudden consternation.

Aragorn laughed, “I fear I am not that noble! Healing can weary me sometimes, but it causes no pain and gives me great satisfaction”

Faramir realised that the King was almost fully recovered when he felt the full strength of his healing power. “I have not felt so well in a long time, as when you treated me the other night,” he remarked.

“The Elven healing touch stimulates the major organs within the body and aids breathing and the flow of blood,” Aragorn explained. ”That is why I did not only massage your shoulder the other night.”

Faramir nodded his understanding. It had puzzled him why Aragorn had treated all of his upper body, but had been too soothed by the healing touch to desire to protest.

The King then moved behind him and placed his hands a few inches over the raw welts on Faramir’s back.

“That feels so much better!” Faramir sighed.

“No honest man should be beaten. I have ordered flogging be reserved for the very worse criminals,” said Aragorn.

“Only once, when I was a Captain, did I order a man to be flogged,” Faramir said, shuddering at the memory. “It still pains me to think of it.

“I am sure you had good cause,” Aragorn replied.

“He committed rape,” Faramir said.

“A heinous crime indeed!” Seeing the younger man was troubled by the memory, Aragorn changed the subject. “It will be good to be home,” he said, “I miss Arwen so much! There, that is all I can do for today. I will treat you again when we return to Minas Tirith.”

“You must greatly regret coming here,” Faramir replied, donning his shirt and then offering his hand to help Aragorn up from the floor.

“I very much regret the pain we both suffered,” Aragorn replied, “Apart from that, have not these weeks been special for all three of us? We will return with some memories to cherish.”

Faramir looked at the man, who until recently, he had loved and feared in equal measure. Over the last weeks had come to look upon him almost as the father he would have liked to have. His thoughts turned to his wedding night with Éowyn and he flushed slightly.

“Yes,” he agreed,” they were very special.”

Aragorn impulsively embraced him. To Faramir’s amazement he found himself returning the gesture. So much had changed, and all for the better.

Later that day Faramir sought out Elbeth. Much to his relief, he found she was quickly adapting to her new surroundings. He found himself wondering who her father might be. Boromir had been a frequent visitor to the Hunting Lodge. Although not inclined towards the ties of marriage, his brother had always had a keen eye for the fairer sex. Maybe Hanna had been attractive before so many misfortunes had befallen her and addled her wits? Faramir chided himself inwardly for such wishful thinking, all too well aware how much he yearned for some part of his brother to remain.

He was determined, however, to ensure Elbeth was well looked after. He wondered if he should take her back with them, but when he entered the kitchens, he found her contentedly cuddled on the lap of a plump motherly woman, whom the housekeeper introduced as her sister. The Steward reluctantly concluded she would be happier with her, rather than in a strange environment where she would have to conform to the rigours of Court life and endless speculation about her origins.

“I want the child to be treated kindly and provided with ample food and clothing, which I will pay for,” he told the woman.” My lady and I intend to visit her sometimes to see how she fares.”

“She will be as my own daughter to me,” the housekeeper’s sister promised.

Faramir handed Elbeth a sweet honey cake, freshly baked that morning, together with some ribbons Éowyn had given him for her.

Elbeth smiled at him, the oddly familiar grey eyes now sparkling and happy. Faramir stole one last wistful look at her. He consoled himself that now he had reached a proper understanding with Éowyn that maybe soon they would have children of their own.