33. Poison

He didn't tell Arwen anything. She was still sleeping… silken hair spread softly on the pillow, her chest rising and sinking with calm breath. Colour returned to her cheeks already, like a pale rose opening in the dawn. The Umaswadi did not lie. The antidote was in the place where he told him, a small phial with a murky, colourless liquid. There is enough just for one, the Umaswadi warned him just before he left, but he didn't need to say that – Aragorn knew it will be so in the very moment he drank the burning dark-red concoction.

He kissed her closed eyelids. He watched her face for a long time. He loved her so much. Every day with her was a precious gift, and he always knew the last one will come. He only hoped it will not be that soon… He sighed. He thought of his mother. Such short was the time Gilraen had with Arathorn. He and Arwen already had many years, yet it still felt too short.

Quietly, he stood up. It was time now to say farewell to both love and light. He could feel the poison cursing in his veins more intently with every moment. He did not want Arwen to see this as the first thing when she wakes. She had to recover, to get strong again. She had to live…

He kissed her on the lips, savouring their softness and sweet taste. A sharp pain that shot through his body reminded him he doesn't have much time. He stood up and with a last wistful look at Arwen's sleeping form, he left.

He didn't know where to go; just that he has to get there quickly before somebody sees him. He didn't want anybody to see him like this, see him dying in pain. Sweat beaded on his brow, and the world started spinning dizzily. Not much time… Not much time before… the pain! He gritted his teeth through it, waiting for the spasm to pass. He had to get away… if not from the pain, then from people who could see him suffer, his dear ones that he did not want to burden with such memory. The pain shot through him again, more intense this time, and when it passed he found himself curled on the floor, sobbing. He got up. Made a step. Another…

Somehow, he found himself in a chamber and closed the door behind himself. Then he sagged helplessly on the floor, curling into himself as the spasms ran through his body like red-hot iron, like fire instead of blood in his veins. He bit his lip to blood to not scream in pain. It hurt so much… and he did not want to die… did not want to be alone! Dimly, he knew he made the decision, but it was hard to bear when he felt cold fingers reaching for his heart. He could hear its erratic beating in his ears, the only sound he could hear, painfully loud. It slowed. Slowed…

Instinctively, he wanted to fight, escape from the grasp of death, but he knew it will just prolong the agony.

Shhh… came suddenly a voice, strangely soothing. Do not fight it. It will just hurt more if you do. Relax…

Sauron? Aragorn bit back another scream.

Shhh… easy… I know how that feels. It is only worse if you fight. Trust me…

Aragorn was beyond reason now. He was only glad to not be alone in that hour, even if it was his former enemy who was with him. He tried to listen to the soothing voice and relax despite the pain. He took a deep breath. The last one… He tried to calm himself. He could feel the pain abating, his body going numb and cold. He could not hear his heart anymore.

A surge of panic flared in his mind when he realized that, but he could not move, could not do anything, and it hurt when he tried.

Easy… I am here. It's all right. Do not be afraid… the thought was like a caress, and he calmed.

On the border between life and death, he could see Sauron, smiling at him. There was a door. Sauron was holding it open for him. He approached it. It was dark - the light was behind him, but he did not look back. He entered the door.

There was a sea behind the door, and a grey boat waiting for him. He entered the boat, and was carried through the sea, but he had no memory of the journey. He saw only the light, slowly beckoning him to the shore. Then the grey rain-curtain of this world rolled back, and all turned to silver glass, and then he saw it. White shores, and beyond, a far green country under a swift sunrise. The boat sailed in a different direction, though…