Chapter 10

 

“You will take me to my husband this instant!” Arwen demanded of the guard that barred her door. “You are in no position to refuse me.”

It had been two days since she had been brought aboard the elven ship and she had spent most of it in a drugged sleep. Her grandfather had mixed a tea that had kept her in a state of rest for the better part of two days. Now that she was feeling better, more coherent, she could easily discern when the she was about to be drugged into complacency.

“Do not expect me to stand for this. Release me from this prison now!” Arwen fumed and when the door opened behind the guard, he was visibly relieved to find Imrahil standing before him, followed by the Chamberlain bearing more tea.

“You are dismissed. Thank you.” Imrahil nodded and the guard made for the door faster than the Prince of Dol Amroth would have thought possible.

The Chamberlain stirred the mixture and offered the mug to the Queen. “Please drink, majesty. You must regain your strength.”

Arwen scowled and took a sip, knowing just how difficult they would make life for her if she didn’t comply. But one sip was all she took before turning her heated gaze on Imrahil.

The Prince of Dol Amroth held his hand up to still her words. “Peace. Please. I’ve come to take you to him.”

“It’s about time.” Arwen seethed.

“Please. Just listen to me.” Imrahil began, his eyes sad, his voice low.

Arwen’s anger faded and her heart plummeted into her stomach. She unconsciously clutched the mug of tea in both hands, needing something to grasp for support.

“He is injured. Badly. Your brothers, Lord Celeborn and Cirdan have done their best for him but he is weak, deathly so.” Imrahil took a deep breath. It had been decided by her family to warn her before hand, to tell her the gravity of the situation before she laid eyes on her beloved. “We are another three days at least from the White City and even longer if we attempt to move him. For the road would be slow.”

“I understand.” Arwen said meekly. “Take me to him.”

 

“He will look- bad, Arwen. He is very sick.” Imrahil rested his hand on her arm, imploring her to understand.

“He is dying.” It was not a question.

The Chamberlain raised an eyebrow at the statement. For he, too, had not been allowed near the King and knew as little as the Queen about the severity of his injuries.

“We don’t know. Not yet.” Imrahil admitted with a sigh. “He has not worsened. Not-exactly.”

“Take me to him,” She whispered and Imrahil nodded.

When they reached the door, the silence within frightened her more than she was prepared to admit. Imrahil opened the door and two dark haired, followed by two light, heads glanced up. They’d known Imrahil was going to bring Arwen to her husband but that didn’t lessen the fear they felt when she looked at the man, to whom she was bound for the rest of her days, lying so still and sick in the bed before them. She faltered for a moment, and stood still, letting her gaze sweep across her husband’s unconscious form.

Celeborn immediately went to her and wrapped his arm around her waist, but she shrugged him off wordlessly and moved to the bed where her husband lay – very still and very pale.

“Tell me.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“We’ve done all we can for now.” Celeborn began. When Arwen didn’t answer, he continued. “We need to go ashore the rocking sea is too much for him, but we must reach an inhabited village first. Cirdan has stabilized him with medicine drawn from seaweed and other herbs he gathered before we left the island.”

“Thank you, Cirdan.” Arwen whispered. She raised a slim hand to rest along her husband’s damp cheek and released a short breath. His skin was cold and clammy even as the room itself was kept at an incredibly high temperature. Arwen trembled as the cold from his body seeped through her hand. She choked back a sob and sank to her knees. Her head fell against his arm and she closed her eyes. After a few moments, she concentrated, feeling the warmth of her spirit circle the cold attempting to take root in her body.

“Arwen.” Celeborn’s eyes narrowed and he took a step toward his granddaughter.

“May the grace of the Valar...” Arwen whispered, her eyes fluttering. A slim hand slipped between limp fingers as the other flattened against his cheek. “Protect him.”

 

She concentrated, her weak body protesting as she forced the warmth from herself into the unconscious form of her husband. The power of the elves was still with her. It was with all of them. She knew she could help him. Heal him. And it would only take the sheer power of her will. Dimly, she heard Celeborn cry out and then she felt herself being pulled away.

“Nooooooo,” Arwen cried as the connection with her husband snapped and she reached for him.  Celeborn’s arms encircled her waist and drew her away even as she screamed from the loss of contact.

“You cannot, Arwen.” Celeborn held her tightly as he spoke. Imrahil’s eyes narrowed in confusion as he listened. “If you force your spirit into him, it will kill you. We’ve taken turns, “he indicated the other elves who stood nearby, “sending him the warmth of the Valar and our love. We cannot test the fates. We cannot risk your life and the life of your babe.”

“I can! I will! Release me!” Arwen protested, her shrill cries echoing off the walls.

“Your baby!” Celeborn released her and turned her to face him, his hands holding her securely by the shoulders. “You need to be in bed resting. Your body has taken too much stress. If you try to help us, you could harm the baby. Please, Arwen.”

Arwen breathed a sob and her hands flew to her abdomen. “My baby.” She turned sad eyes on the man lying still as death on the bed. “Our baby.”

“He wouldn’t want this.” Celeborn said quietly, sadly.

“I cannot live without him,” Arwen said dejectedly. “If he dies, I will follow…and we will have no baby.”

“Arwen,” Celeborn winced as he thought desperately of a way to soften his next words. “You…have the welfare of a kingdom to think of now. And you carry its heir within you.”

Arwen shook her head as Elladan stepped beside her to wrap strong arms around her shoulders. Celeborn let her go, but continued, wincing as his tone turned sharper than he intended. “The days are long past when you could think solely of your love. If Aragorn – dies – then you will be looked upon to rule in his stead.”

“I cannot.” She choked back a sob and buried her face in Elladan’s tunic. “My fate is bound to his, grandfather. If he dies, so shall I.”

“You know that is not true.” Celeborn countered and Imrahil breathed a sigh of relief.

“Your soul is bound to his, yes. But your life is not.”

 

Suddenly, Arwen turned, eyes red, her cheeks wet from tears that slipped untouched down her cheeks. He could see the determination in her eyes. He had seen it before….in the love that burned so intense between the couple that one, at times, had to look away or be scorched in its path. They had risked and endured much to be together, and everyone who knew their long story – save one – had rejoiced when their day had finally come.

“Do not make me restrain you.” Celeborn warned.

She pulled herself out of Elladan’s arms and returned to sit next to her husband. When she reached a trembling hand to brush away a strand of damp hair from his face, her stomach twisted and she gasped for breath.

Celeborn was beside her in an instant but she shrugged off the comforting hand he laid on her shoulder.  “You must rest, Arwen. You must think of your health.”

“If it is his fate to die here. Then I will be with him when he is taken from me.” Arwen whispered, her voice cracking.

The ship lurched suddenly and Aragorn groaned, head tossing feverishly to the side. Arwen gripped the bed tightly, fighting a wave of nausea while Celeborn turned to Imrahil.

“We must get off the water. Find an inhabited island where we can take Aragorn to treat his injuries. This constant rocking is not helping his nor Arwen’s condition.”

“Agreed.” Imrahil turned on his heal and strode out of the chamber, determination hurrying his steps.

Celeborn glanced back at Arwen as she lay her head beside her husband, clearly ill from the rocking of the ship.

“Arwen, please return to your chamber. You will get no rest here.” Celeborn rested a hand on her shoulder.

“I will not leave him.”

“He would want you to take care of yourself and your babe, Arwen.” Celeborn implored, kneeling beside her . “You know this.”

Arwen said nothing, simply remained immobile, her head lying close to her husband’s. She didn’t see Celeborn nod to Elrohir and she did not put up too much of a fight when she was lifted into her brother’s arms and removed from the room. Her own growing nausea and weakness prevented her from putting up much resistance.

 

Celeborn let out a huge sigh, head dropping into his hands.

Cirdan stepped toward his friend and rested a strong hand on the elf’s shoulder. “You need rest. Go. I will stay with Elladan and Aragorn.”

Celeborn shook his head but Cirdan insisted. “You will be notified the instant there is a change.”

The elf nodded and stood, turning back one last time to look at the unconscious man lying on the bed, before walking out the door to see to his granddaughter.

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“We are not more than a day from the White City. Less by ship.”  Imrahil said as they walked through the City of Lossarnach. “I’ve sent riders to inform Faramir what is happening.”

People gathered along the small dirt pathway, watching with wide eyes the men, and royal guards that flanked them. It was not unheard of to see royal guard in the City, as the King had often visited this southern holding. But usually the guard was followed by the King, and, thus far, the man had not yet been sighted. And the guard was especially secretive.

Celeborn nodded as they were led into a large, spacious building. “This is the best we can offer you, My Lords.” Aerthane, Lord of Lossarnach, said somewhat nervously, extending his hands to indicate the room in which they now stood. He had never had dealings with the elves and to see them escorted by the royal guard set his nerves on edge. “There are plenty of beds here for the injured. And upstairs there is a somewhat private suite of rooms. We built this up during the war, when we had more injured than we knew what to do with. It has long gone unused and we only have need of it when sickness runs through the people and we need to keep the sick contained.” He, along with the rest of the City, was wondering from where the ship in the harbor had come from, and what injured it bore.

“This will do well. Thank you.” Imrahil nodded to the guards that had accompanied him and they began to arrange the furniture.

“Of course, sire.” The man bowed to Imrahil and stepped aside. He recognized the signet of Imrahil’s house immediately. The banners flying high over the Elven Ship were a clear indication there was a member of the royal family aboard, but they had yet to be seen.  “Is there anything else you require?”

“Your herbmaster.” Celeborn turned to Aerthane. 

“I’ll fetch her.” Aerthane nodded to a guard who rushed to carry out his Lord’s order.

Celeborn turned to Imrahil and Aerthane frowned. “Lets get them off the ship.”

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People gathered as close as was allowed, as the small boats came one after the other, bearing injured from the High Elven Ship, onto the shore. The royal injured were surrounded nearly to the point where no one could see who was being carried and Aerthane watched with curious fascination and more than a little concern. He knew the King had been out of the realm on errands in the North and was due to return to Gondor at any time.

“You have many injured, my Lords. What has happened?” The man asked as they reached the building that would serve as a sick house. “We have heard no tidings of war from the White City.” The man’s eyes widened when the Knights parted to allow the litter into the room and then gasped as he recognized the injured man. “The King.” He muttered, biting back a gasp of shock. Elladan and Elrohir flanked their brother as he was carried up the steps and into a more private suite of rooms.

Celeborn turned immediately to Aerthane and stood over him, his expression stern. “You will tell no one of who we bring here. We have dispatched riders to the White City and expect them to return soon.

“I will do my best, My Lords. But – this news might be too difficult to contain.”

“Just halt the flow of information flowing out of the City as best you can, please.”

The queen arrived next, cloaked and sandwiched between another set of royal guards. The man’s eyes widened when he saw her walking slowly toward the steps up which they had taken her husband. The man had never seen such beauty, and recognized Arwen immediately as the Queen of Gondor.

“Majesty.” Aerthane fell to his knees immediately and bowed his head.

“Please do as my grandfather says.” Her voice was like a wisp of music to his ears.

“Yes, Lady.” The man nodded and he rose as the Queen passed.

“Thank you.”

From another room, a loud cry echoed through the building and Imrahil quickly escorted Aerthane out the door, asking him to be patient and they would meet as soon as everything was settled.

 

Everyone stood frozen in place as Imrahil turned toward the source of the heart-wrenching sound.

As the door nicked shut behind the Lord of Lossarnach, Elladan walked slowly down the steps, his face pale, and his eyes full of tears.

Arwen glanced at her brother and stretched out her hand, looking for something to steady her as her heart plummeted into her toes. Celeborn appeared beside her to hold her upright as Elladan, followed by Elrohir walked slowly down the steps.

“No.” Arwen whispered as she looked at the pale faces of her brothers. She began to tremble, her hand flying to cover her mouth and stifle her cry.

Guards stopped working around them as they watched the twins approach their sister. Silence descended like a wave to silence everyone in the room.

“He- he stopped breathing, ‘wen,” Elladan said slowly, a tear finally dripping from the corner of his eye to snake down his smooth cheek. “We couldn’t get him back. Not this time. We-”

“No!” Arwen cried and launched herself out of her grandfather’s arms. She took a few steps and then cried out in pain, clutching at her abdomen as she felt the hot sting of fluid flow down her legs. Her eyes crossed and she sailed toward the railing of the steps, reaching for something to support her weakening body.

“Arwen!” All four elves rushed toward her and she gazed at them with a shocked, pained expression moments before she crumpled to the floor.

Legolas, Gimli and the Chamberlain stepped through the door in time to hear the Queen’s name echo from the lips of the four elves. They stood rooted in place as they watched the woman collapse heavily to the floor.

“Majesty!” The Chamberlain was the first to react, calling out and making motion toward his Queen. Legolas’ elven reflexes saved the unwelcome intrusion as he stopped the concerned man from stepping any closer to a scene that was already under as much control as was possible.

“No,” Legolas whispered, never taking his eyes off the Queen. “Let them to their work.”

Blood pooled beneath Arwen as Celeborn pulled his granddaughter into his arms. He gasped at the warmth that soaked into his own garments, realizing immediately what had happened yet still hoping he was wrong. “Valar no. Please.” He prayed to anyone who would hear his plea. “Please don’t do this to them.”