that´s for you, dear Arthur!

Chapter 5:  a difficult endeavour

Much time had passed since the doors to the room where his son's operation was occurring had closed.

Aragorn could barely manage the suspense any longer. He was walking up and down in a nearby waiting room, annoying not only other people waiting but the occasionally appearing healers as well. No one said anything, though. Despite discretion, the news about his son´s accident had spread throughout the city. Faramir had outdone himself, shielding the King from many of Gondor's more annoying inhabitants, yet he couldn't be in all places at once.

Aragorn stood and walked across the room again. He estimated the elapsed time must be nearly four hours now. He did not know if that was a good sign or a bad one. He had total confidence in his brothers´ abilities and knew they would do all in their power to rescue his young son, yet even their skills had limits.

Even Faramir hadn't managed to calm his fraying nerves, and Arwen had left them to take a short walk around the gardens of healing. She was as worried as her husband was, yet she could not tolerate another minute within the massive stone walls. As much as she had adapted to her new life as a Queen of men, sometimes her elven heritage took precedence.

Anger still gnawed at Aragorn´s mind for having been forbidden to assist in the surgery. But, if he was honest with himself, he knew that his brothers´ decision was right. It was possible that at a critical moment he would be unable to make the right decision because he was too emotionally involved.

A quick glance at Faramir told him that his friend was irritated by his constant walking up and down, but he could not help it. Faramir wouldn't say anything, but Aragorn knew that his friend’s nerves were as strained as his own.

Finally Aragorn let himself sink once again into the deep cushions of the couch. He closed his eyes with a sigh. He was unaware that the waiting room had emptied of all other people except Faramir.

During the long hours of waiting the steward left several times, giving orders to arriving runners and receiving news from his office.

When the door opened again, expecting Faramir´s return, Aragorn did not look up. He jerked his head up when he heard his brother’s gentle voice calling out to him.

“Estel, we need to make a decision,” Elrohir said. Aragorn swallowed and an icy fist was squeezing his heart. He could barely stand the gaze of the elf looking at him with an unreadable expression. He sprang to his feet with lightning speed.

“How is Eldarion doing?” he asked, his voice cracking from disuse and strain.

Elrohir did not answer only motioned Aragorn to follow him. Used to the elves´ attitude long since, Aragorn simply followed him knowing that more questions would bring him no answers. The long and hurried strides of his brother clarified that time was still their foe.

Before he had a chance to estimate the elf’s demeanour they had reached the operating room. Elrohir opened the door without hesitation. Aragorn took a deep breath before he strode through.

He swallowed. Eldarion was laying on a heightened work table clad only in a fine white linen trouser his upper body bare. His head was covered with a thin white cloth so that he could not see his son’s face. Elladan was standing next to the table also clad in white, yet the apron was spotted with blood. He was looking at him with the same unreadable expression Elrohir was displaying.

Before Aragorn could demand information Elladan began to speak.

“Estel, even if I have decided the best way to proceed, I do not want to make this decision over your head. We must remove a large blood clot to reduce the pressure on Eldarion's brain. We have never done this before. It will bring the change he must have, but it might also end your son’s life instantly.”

Aragorn looked at the elf in horror. How could he speak about such a thing without emotion?

After sending an equally irritated look at his brother, Elrohir turned toward the King.

“Estel, you must make the decision. Your son’s health is fragile. The procedure Elladan is discussing is very dangerous, but if it is successful, Eldarion will have a chance to survive. If we do nothing, your son will die with certainty.”

Aragorn fought his tears. How could he decide? His son would die without intervention but his chances of survival were marginal at best if he conceded. Neither option was appealing. Closing his eyes briefly and taking a calming breath he looked up and his gaze became steady. If there was even the smallest chance that his son would survive he would grasp it.

“Do it!” was all he forced out while directing a glare at Elladan. He was no longer able to suffer the blank expression on the older twin’s face. He was only glad the Arwen had not witnessed this scene. He wondered where she was, but was convinced that her brothers had made sure she kept her distance.

Without another word and after a nod from Elrohir, Aragorn turned on his heel and left the room. He didn't want to witness his son’s death while standing by helplessly. He went in search of Arwen. She would feel their son’s struggle more keenly than he. Maybe he could find some comfort with her, and offer her consolation in return.

Aragorn jerked his head up feeling a change in the air. After he had found his wife in the garden they had moved into the small conservatory where they had a clear view of the House of Healing. Here, in the beautiful park, they awaited the outcome of the surgery. They had held each other and wept, but now they had both accepted whatever fate the Valar had appointed for them and Eldarion. As much as he dreaded having one of his brothers arrive to give them news, he was equally reluctant to hear the news that might be brought.

He jerked his head toward the entrance of the hospital when Arwen inhaled sharply and squeezed his arm painfully. Coming down the stone pathway, however, was not one of the twins but rather, a very good friend.

“Legolas!” Aragorn breathed. A few days earlier, he had thought about informing the elf, but with everything that had happened, he had totally forgotten about it. Who, then, had informed the elf?

He raised an eyebrow at his wife. Arwen smiled.

“Legolas had also been invited to your birthday, my love. You have again forgotten about that.”

Aragorn sighed. His birthday, yes! The event was so unimportant at the moment that he did not waste any thoughts about it, yet the preparations could not be stopped. There were only three months to go. Even if Legolas was responding to the invitation to his birthday celebration he was glad that the elf had arrived early. The grave expression on the elf’s face told him that the archer had already been informed about Eldarion's condition.

When the elf reached them he first kissed Arwen on the cheeks and then embraced his friend in a tight hug. It was unusual for the wood elf to show such emotion in public, so Aragorn appreciated the gesture all the more.

“Estel, I’m so sorry,” the archer breathed in a soft voice that only the King could hear.

Aragorn choked back a sob and squeezed Arwen's hand tightly. He pulled back and took a deep breath.

“Thank you my friend for your sympathy and your…being here,” Aragorn replied. He motioned the elf to sit beside them on the bench surrounding a large tree trunk.

Legolas simply nodded but kept standing, his face turned up to catch the rays of the sun. Arwen closed her eyes simultaneously and both elves suddenly seemed fey. Aragorn watched them silently and again wondered if he would ever understand the core of these mysterious beings. He had grown up among them, had lived with them and had even married one of them, but sometimes he felt far distanced from their thoughts.

The moment lasted only for a short time, then it was gone and the eternal beings appeared again, a bit earthier.

As if nothing had happened Legolas sat gracefully next to the King his eyes directed at the royal couple.

“Aragorn, Arwen, I just spoke with Faramir when I arrived but he was very reluctant and cautious about saying what had happened to your son.”

Aragorn smiled. That was just like Faramir, yet he was glad for such a servant. Farmir´s thoughtful attitude always helped to prevent rumours from running rampant. He took a deep breath.

“Two days ago Eldarion fell from the scaffold around the citadel. He was playing there with his friends.”

A short flicker of the elf´s eyes toward the great tower was the only reaction to the King’s words. Patiently the elf waited until Aragorn continued, although he could guess what would come next. It was Arwen, however, who spoke since Aragorn still struggled to find words.

“Eldarion hit his head hard during the fall. A blood clot in his brain was the consequence, resulting in a life-threatening situation. My brothers are attempting to remove the clot to lessen the pressure on his brain.”

Arwen lowered her gaze now, also fighting for words and holding her tears in check. Legolas' eyes had widened in shock. He had expected something ill, yet the possible consequences, even if the elven twins were successful, only occurred to him now.

The royal couple and the elven prince sat there for many moments silent and wrapped up in their thoughts. Legolas could make a good guess about what must be going on in Aragorn’s and Arwen´s minds. He was also an only child and a prince no less. His father had always been very protective and overly cautious, to an extent that had unnerved him greatly during his years of childhood and in his first adult years. Today he understand the actions of his father and had often offered him a silent apology.

Feeling that the couple needed some time in private to compose themselves, Legolas rose.

“Arwen, Aragorn, I’m so sorry and I hope with all my heart that the twins will be successful. That’s sadly the only assistance I can give. I will pray to the Belain for your son’s recovery.”

While Arwen did not react, Aragorn rose and embraced the archer with a whispered "Thank you." More words were unnecessary.

Just as Legolas began to take his leave, one of the double doors to the House of Haling opened and Elrohir strode down the paved pathway toward the small group.

Torn between the wish to stay and learn how Eldarion fared, but not wanting to intrude in a family matter, Legolas´ gaze was glued to the approaching figure like Arwen´s and Aragorn’s were.

Before he could reach a decision the younger twin had reached them. Elrohir inclined his head in his direction and Legolas returned the gesture. Seeing no dismissal in the peredhil's gaze, Legolas decided to stay.

Too emotionally overwrought Arwen sprang up and stepped in front of her brother.

“Elrohir how is Eldarion? Did the surgery go well?” she asked. Her voice held a shrill undertone caused by her fear.

Legolas observed the younger twin closely. Elrohir allowed no expression to show what news he was about to deliver. He had thrown a tunic over his blood stained apron, but patches were seeping through the thin material.

Arwen and Aragorn however were not children anymore and they had clearly seen the state their son was in. It was the message the younger brother bore that was important, not his appearance.

“Arwen, Aragorn,” Elrohir began. His voice sounded very restrained.

“Eldarion lives. We were able to remove the blood clot and, hopefully, lessen the pressure on his brain. He is still in a coma and we cannot yet determine if our intervention was successful. Only time will tell how much damage may have been done.”

Even though delivered thoughtfully and carefully, the words hit Legolas like a blow. Until now, he had not considered that even in the case of a successful surgery, there could still be lasting negative consequences for the boy.

Elrohir´s words however had clearly confirmed this secondary worry. Legolas sank back on the bench with a sigh, while Arwen and Aragorn hurried toward their son's chamber in the House of Healing.

Gray eyes met blue ones and both elves closed their eyes in mutual despair.

To be continued…………………..