36: Being the Continuation of the Dúnadan Cousin’s Tale:

And the Lost Shall Be Found

"When I fell into the river, I hit my head on a log floating by and lost consciousness," Gilhael began without preamble. "I do not know how long I was out. I only know that somehow I managed to cling to the very limb that was the cause of my head injury so that I did not drown."

He paused and grimaced. "I had escaped the orcs and Dunlendings, but I had not escaped unscathed and I was still in danger of dying..."

****

Gilhael came to and looked blearily about, the sight of the riverbank rushing by making him feel sick and dizzy. He was in excruciating pain and the coldness of the water had crept into his bones and he could not stop shaking. He was still clinging to the tree limb and thanked the Valar for small mercies. The limb had swept him further downriver than he could have done swimming. He ignored the pain in his shoulder and back and with what strength he had left he kicked against the current, forcing the limb towards the right bank where reeds choked the waters, slowing down the current somewhat. He managed to send the limb floating towards the reeds before it became too much for him and he fainted again.

He came to, wondering why his head felt so heavy. Just as he tried to lift it there was a pressure and then a release as something large jumped off the top of his head. The sound of cawing rang in his ears and the sight of black wings flapping away woke him up completely. He shivered, not wanting to think of the implications of what had just happened. Groaning he attempted to pull himself out of the water, but he was too weak and the bank here was steep and slippery. He splashed about until he could at least sit in the mud. His first order of business was to break off the arrow shafts. He knew from experience that he had no hope of removing the arrows themselves without help. He prayed that neither arrow was poisoned, though thinking about it, he decided that had they been he would already be dead.

The arrow in his shoulder was easy enough to reach, in spite of the mind-numbing pain that followed the movement of breaking off the shaft. The one in his back though proved too difficult to get to. He did not believe it had hit anything vital and obviously he was not paralyzed but he knew the arrow needed to be removed and soon. It was in a more potentially fatal spot than the arrow in his shoulder.

Glancing about, Gilhael wondered at his options. They were rather thin on the ground. His only real choice was the river. Somewhere further down was at least one village that he remembered seeing on Hilderic’s map back in Helm’s Deep. If he could reach it, he could get help.

And there was the rub... he needed to reach it alive. His shivering was becoming constant and his vision was blurring again. He needed to make a decision and fast. Taking a deep breath, he inched his way back into the frigid water and grabbed hold of the limb that had entangled itself in the reeds. Here by the bank the river was shallow and he could walk towards the middle. When he felt the current he leaned onto the limb and kicked off, stifling a scream as pain lanced through his body at the movement, letting the river take him.

The pain of his wounds dulled but he became feverish in spite of the coldness of the river. At one point he started retching. That took all his strength away and as the last of the spasms left him he slipped into darkness....

****

"That must have been the arrow shaft El... I mean Lord Elrohir found," Théoden exclaimed sleepily.

The adults around gave him indulgent smiles and Elrohir hugged him. Gilhael nodded at the prince. "Indeed, it must have been."

"Did it really hurt a lot?" the child asked.

"Yes, my prince," Gilhael said softly. "It was very painful."

Théoden nodded. "I fell out of a tree once and broke my arm." He held up his left arm for all to see. "I cried a lot."

That admission was unexpected by all. Elrohir looked down at the sleepy child and kissed the top of his head. "I fell off a cliff once when I was about your age and cried too."

Théoden looked up at the Elf in surprise. "I didn’t think Elves cried."

"Why not?" Elrohir asked.

The boy shrugged, staring down. "I... I guess I just thought it was something Mortals do... because we’re... we’re weak."

All five of the Elves stirred at that. Elrohir sighed and held the youngster closer. "Do you think Lord Gilhael weak, or Lord Thorongil... or your adar?"

Théoden looked up in shock. "Ada’s not weak!"

"No, he isn’t," the Elf agreed. "Neither are Gilhael or Thorongil or any of your people, including you."

"But...."

"Tears are not a sign of weakness, youngling," Thandir interjected. "It takes a strong person, be he Elf or Mortal, to admit to tears. Crying when you are in pain is normal, though usually as you get older you learn to hold back the tears."

"Because then everyone thinks you’re a baby," Théoden opined sagely.

"Nay, Little One," Elrohir replied with a chuckle. "Because you’re too busy cursing your stupidity for getting hurt in the first place to worry about tears." At that the other adults all chuckled. "Now, why don’t we find out what happened next, shall we?"

Théoden nodded and turned his attention back to Gilhael who smiled and gave the boy a wink.

"The next time I awoke," he said, addressing the entire hall, "I was staring at a wooden beam with no idea why...."

****

It took Gilhael several precious minutes to remember what had happened to him and why. He started to move but the pain he felt stopped him and he settled back down on the rough cot on which he was lying. Glancing about he saw a narrow room with a rickety chair and a clothespress. There was a small washstand in one corner and another table beside the cot where a candle stood, providing him with the only illumination as there was no window. There was also no door, simply a colorful patchwork quilt hanging from the lintel.

"Hello?" he called out, remembering to speak Rohirric. "Is there anyone there?"

There was the sound of a gasp followed by movement as the quilt was pushed aside and a loop caught on a nail so it stayed back. Gilhael saw a young woman, barely out of childhood, staring at him with wide eyes. She had light brown waist-length hair bound in two braids. Her dress was homespun but even in the candlelight Gilhael could make out some embroidery around the neckline. The girl wore a smock over her dress with which she was wiping her hands.

"You’re awake!" she exclaimed.

Gilhael nodded. "Aye, child, and in need of answers and... ah... I think a chamber pot right about now."

The girl blushed and pointed. "It’s under your bed, sir. Should I get it for you?"

"If you would, my dear," he answered, attempting to sit up, wincing from the pain as he did so. The girl came further into the room and bent down to grab the chamber pot. She held it out to him as she straightened and Gilhael could see that her eyes were a warm brown. He took the proffered pot and when she made no move to leave he gave her a wry smile. "A little privacy might be nice."

The young woman gasped in dismay and reddened in embarrassment. "Oh! I’m sorry... I... I’ll just go and... check on supper." She started backing away, her expression one of chagrin as she slipped the loop off the nail and let the quilt drop. Gilhael waited another minute until he heard the sound of a knife chopping something and the girl started humming. Loudly.

The Ranger chuckled to himself as he saw to his personal needs. Shortly thereafter he called out and the girl returned to take care of the chamber pot while he sat back against the wall trying to piece together his memory. A quick examination of his body showed that both his ribs and shoulder were tightly bound. The pain from the arrows was manageable for now, though he suspected he was going to need some willowbark tea soon. He felt his head where he had hit it against the limb and while it felt tender he did not detect any stitches. The girl returned with the cleaned out chamber pot and placed it beside the bed.

"Are you in pain?" she asked.

"A little," he admitted, "but I can manage for now. Do you have any willowbark tea?"

"Aye," she said with a nod. "I’ve been dosing you rather regularly these past three days."

Gilhael’s eyes widened. "Three days?"

The girl nodded. "My da found you floating in the river and brought you to me." She blushed a bit and looked down. "I’m the village leech, or at least what passes as one. My name is Helewis."

"My name is Tungolfród," the Dúnadan replied.

Helewis gave him a quizzical look. "You’re not of Rohan or Dunland, yet you bear a Rohirric name and speak it passably well, if with an accent."

Gilhael smiled. "I am from the North originally, but I have taken service with Thengel King for a time along with my cousin."

"Ah," was her only comment. Then she gave him a smile. "I have some barley broth if you would like some."

"That would be fine, thank you."

She nodded and left, disappearing to the left where the pulled-back quilt blocked his view. What he could see of the other room was a wooden table where a chipped blue vase filled with late autumn blooms was set. There was a wooden bench shoved under the table out of the way. Swags of dried herbs hung from the rafters, providing a pleasing scent of rosemary, basil, lovage and he knew not what else. A door opposite the bedroom must lead to the outside. He could see little else from his position. When Helewis reappeared bearing an unglazed bowl and wooden spoon, he asked the one question that burned in his mind.

"Where am I and how was I found?"

Helewis handed him the bowl and spoon and sat down on the chair. "Well, this is Isenby, so called because there’s an eyot sitting in the midst of the river nearby. It shallows out the river don’t you see and that great limb you were hanging onto washed up on the eyot where my da found you. He had a time of it getting to you though and needed help from some of the other men but eventually they got you to me and I’ve been tending to you ever since."

"For which you have my thanks, fair maiden," Gilhael said and grinned as the young girl blushed.

"It’s little enough that I’ve done. The worst was... was digging out the arrowheads." She blanched somewhat and wrung her hands nervously in the folds of her smock. "Never done that before. My da had to hold you down for even unconscious you seemed to have felt the pain." She looked down, her expression turning to one of embarrassment. "Once I had you all stitched up, I... um... well I ended up becoming sick."

Gilhael gave her a sympathetic smile and carefully leaned over to put his hand on her knee. She glanced up, looking wary. "I am only grateful that you waited until you finished stitching before getting sick," he said drolly.

Helewis snorted at that and gave him a weak grin. "I mostly just fix up various herbs to give as tonics and such. I’ve had little experience in having to stitch someone up, especially from... from war wounds."

"Not much in the way of war," Gilhael said. "I was... waylaid by Dunlendings while traveling to Edoras." He decided not to give her the full truth, for he did not wish to alarm her and Dunlendings waylaying travelers was a common enough event not to arouse suspicion. She nodded in understanding, then pointed to the now empty bowl.

"Would you like more or I can get you something else?"

"Nay, I thank you," the Ranger said. "I think I have expended as much of my strength as I am able. Perhaps something for the pain and then I would sleep some more."

"Of course. I have some willowbark tea ready for you." She took the bowl and went back out, returning shortly with a small goblet of the tea which Gilhael downed quickly then lay back on the cot, easing himself into a more comfortable position. He felt, rather than saw, Helewis leave again, pulling down the quilt to give him some privacy and then he was asleep.

****

Gilhael woke to the sound of voices, specifically the rumble of a man’s voice coming from the other side of the curtain. He spent a minute or two trying to decipher what was being said, but could make out no words until he heard Helewis speaking.

"He’s no Dunlending," he heard her say, "for all he claims to be from the North. His speech is too fine for one of them, even if his accent is funny."

Gilhael grinned at that. The man’s voice rumbled after that, still too low for Gilhael to make out. Deciding he wasn’t going to learn anything from lying there staring at the ceiling he let out a loud yawn to let them know he was a wake. He was struggling into a sitting position when the quilt was pushed back and Gilhael found himself wincing somewhat as the brighter light from the other room momentarily blinded him.

"Oh, did you have a nice nap?" Helewis asked as she entered and Gilhael smiled at the artless question.

"Aye, Ides, I did," he replied. "Thy leechcraft hath done me well."

Helewis gave an embarrassed laugh. "No lady am I, Lord Tungolfród, just a ceorlgefæmne with little skill."

Gilhael shook his head. "Not so, good Helewis. I deem thou’rt no mere lybbestre who uses simples and magic to attempt a cure but one who is well versed in the healing arts, a lácnestre."

He watched with amusement as she blushed at the compliment. "If you are feeling well enough," she said, "would you like to join us at the table for your supper? I’ll have my da help you to dress."

"I think I can manage that, thank you," Gilhael replied.

Helewis nodded and turned so as to allow a man to enter the room. Gilhael eyed him with interest. He was not as tall as most men of Rohan but he was burly and the Ranger suspected this one was a smith. He had hair that was a golden-brown and his eyes were the same brown as his daughter’s. He smiled down at the Dúnadan.

"My name is Beornhard," the man rumbled. "I see you’ve fallen under my daughter’s spell like every other young fool in this village."

"Da!" Helewis protested.

Gilhael grinned. "I am Tungolfród, one of Thengel King’s Riders. Thank you for saving me."

Beornhard nodded. "Let’s see about getting you dressed. Helewis managed to salvage most of your clothing but your shirt was ruined. You can have one of mine, though I think it’ll be overlarge for you."

"I’m sure I’ll manage," Gilhael said as he started to throw off the blanket. He heard a startled gasp from Helewis and then the quilt was being pulled down. The two men looked at each other and they both started laughing as Beornhard reached down to give Gilhael a hand.

****

Even though he only had to walk a half dozen steps from his cot to the table, Gilhael was winded and feeling weak by the time Beornhard helped him into a chair. The Rohir handed the Ranger a wooden stein and bade him to drink. It was a light ale and Gilhael drank carefully wishing it were water instead.

Beornhard sat beside him on the bench while Helewis puttered about, laying trenchers on the table in front of them as well as platters of winter greens and a roasted chicken with small potatoes. A loaf of coarse bread and some butter and a crock of honey completed the fare. Helewis made sure that Gilhael was served first before she and her father took their share. As they ate, Beornhard asked about Gilhael’s recent adventures.

"I was on a scouting expedition for Lord Hilderic," Gilhael told them and Beornhard nodded, recognizing the name. "I was careless and allowed myself to be seen by some Dunlendings. They shot my horse from under me and I was running to the river to escape them when I too was shot. I managed to get to the river though and the rest you know."

For a long moment as they continued eating there was silence and then Beornhard gave Gilhael a searching look. "An interesting tale," he finally said. "And I would almost believe you save for the fact that that was no Dunlending arrow in your back, youngster. I know an orc arrow when I see one."

Gilhael returned Beornhard’s suspicious stare with equanimity. "It is the tale I will tell whoever asks," he retorted quietly. "The news of orcs in the Westmark must not be spread too widely for fear of panic. Those were my orders and...."

****

"But that’s a lie!"

Gilhael sighed and the adults stirred. All stared at young Théoden, his face red with indignation. "Why did you lie?" he demanded, his young eyes glaring with hurt and confusion.

Gilhael was about to answer but Thengel forestalled him. "Théoden, come here," he said quietly, gesturing to his son. The boy got up and went to his father who took him and sat him on his lap.

"Tungolfród wasn’t lying," he said.

"But...."

"Listen to me," Thengel admonished softly and the young prince subsided, his expression still one of confusion. "What Tungolfród did was to tell a version of the truth that would not unduly alarm the good folk who had taken him in. Would you like to know that there might be orcs running about and making mischief?"

"But I do know, Ada, for you’ve told me," came the plaintive answer and there were quiet snorts of amusement from the listeners.

"Aye, I did, didn’t I?" Thengel said with a smile. "But think of it this way: you’re a stranger in a land not your own and at the mercy of people you do not know if you can fully trust. What would you do in such circumstances?"

Théoden puckered his lips and furrrowed his brow in thought for a moment and then gave his father a hesitant look. "N-not tell them the whole truth until I knew I could trust them."

Thengel smiled at his son and nodded. "And that is what Tungolfród did. He was just being cautious."

"Unfortunately, Beornhard knew I was lying," Gilhael spoke up, looking rueful, "but in the end he and Helewis agreed that the full tale would only alarm the other folk of the village."

"What happened then?" Aragorn asked. "How long before the Elves found you?"

"I was there for another two days," Gilhael replied. "I did not venture any further from my bed than Beornhard’s smithy which is attached to his home. It was given out that I was still recovering from my wounds so I was not importuned by the other villagers."

"We arrived at the village," Thandir then added, nodding to the other Elves, "just before sunset three days after we destroyed Æsctun. Luckily, Beornhard’s smithy lies near the northern edge of Isenby, and it just so happened that Gilhael was sitting out front, keeping the smith company as he was finishing up for the day."

"By that time I was sufficiently recovered that I was able to leave the next morning," Gilhael continued then paused and gave them a broad grin. "Beornhard and Helewis were rather disconcerted at entertaining five Elves for the night, but we managed to keep that bit of news quiet from the rest of the villagers. Instead, Thandir and the others left before dawn and then I made a public departure, thanking Beornhard and Helewis for their help. Helewis, of course, played the role of leech quite well and pretended to be upset that I would leave before I was completely healed but I assured everyone that I needed to return to Helm’s Deep as soon as possible. They even lent me a horse, which has since been returned to them. I met Thandir and the others a league north of the village and we made our way north to retrieve the elves’ horses and then on to Helm’s Deep where we told Hilderic what had transpired before making our way here."

"And so the threat of orcs rampaging through the Westmark is no more," Thengel said, but Gilhael and the Elves all shook their heads.

"Nay, Thengel King," Thandir said. "The threat of the one band of orcs and Dunlendings has been eliminated but forget not the other group of orcs hiding in the White Mountains. They must be found and destroyed."

Thengel nodded, looking grim. "Aye, that they must," he uttered. Then, his visage cleared and he gave them all a warm smile. "But that is for the future. For now, we thank you for your entertaining tales, my lords, and we give thanks that you have returned to us hale and whole, Lord Tungolfród." Gilhael and the Elves all nodded their heads. "Now, it grows late," Thengel continued, "and this one," he looked down at his son nestled in his arms fast asleep, then looked up to share a smile with Morwen, "this one should be abed." He and Morwen stood and all rose with them. "We bid ye all good-night," the King said and the royal couple with their heir exited the hall as all gave them bows. Aragorn volunteered to show Gilhael and the Elves where they might sleep and soon all were seeking their beds, save for the guards on nightwatch.

****

All words are Rohirric (Anglo-Saxon).

Ides: Lady. Not a common term, more poetical or archaic. Gilhael here is acting the romantic.

Ceorlgefæmne: Common woman, one not nobly born.

Lybbestre: Sorceress, literally ‘charm-woman’, a woman with no formal training in leechcraft, but is more apt to employ charms and incantations to effect cures; from the root word lybb ‘drug, poison, charm’ The masculine form is lyblæca, literally ‘charm-leech’.

Lácnestre: (female) Healer, from the verb, lácnian ‘to heal’. -estre is a fem. agental suffix. Gilhael is again being chivalric, since the more common word for healer is læce ‘leech’ used by either gender.