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…………………