“Lonely men are we, Rangers of the wild,
hunters – but hunters ever of the servants of the Enemy.”
‘The Council of Elrond’, The Fellowship of the Ring
The trouble with Bag End, Halbarad reflected, was that you couldn’t pace. That is, anyone not a hobbit couldn’t pace... back and forth, as he desperately needed to do. He sat in the chair next to Aragorn’s bed and clutched the cup of hot tea Sam’s sister Daisy had brought him.
“Here we are, young man,” came a calm voice from the doorway. “Sorry to have taken so long, but Frodo’s arm needed suturing.”
“I know,” Halbarad said, relieved to see the healer bustle into the room and set her satchel on the bed. “Halfred and his sisters have been dashing in and out, letting me know what’s happening.” He watched, somewhat amused, as Gilly hoisted herself up onto the Man-sized bed and drew back the blanket covering Aragorn’s upper body.
“I wanted to check his head wound,” Halbarad continued, “but I do not know much about such things. Halfred brought some ice, and I--”
“You did well,” Gilly said. She nodded approvingly at the ice pack on Aragorn’s sprained wrist, then bandaged the wrist properly. She then checked his well-muscled chest and arms for injuries.
“Would you help me turn him, Halbarad? I want to look at his back.”
“I saw no other injuries,” Halbarad told her, helping the healer roll Aragorn onto his side. “Whatever knocked him unconscious must have only hit his head.”
“I agree,” Gilly said. “I see no other bruises or cuts. He was quite fortunate. There we go...” Halbarad settled his chieftain onto his back once again. “I understand he regained consciousness for a time?”
“Just for a moment,” Halbarad frowned. “He said...”
“Yes?”
“He… was unsure who I was,” Halbarad continued, wondering how much to reveal about the identity of his chieftain. “He called me ‘Captain’.”
“And you’re not?” Gilly asked.
“No.”
When Gilly had seen them at the market, both Rangers were dressed identically in sturdy cloaks clasped with a star-shaped pin. There was no sign of rank or leadership visible on either, and she doubted that either of these men was a captain of anything -- let alone the wandering folk known as Rangers.
“Will he be all right?” Halbarad blurted out.
“Let me see what we’ve got here,” Gilly murmured soothingly. She hoped her face was betraying none of her concern; memory loss occasionally resulted from a head injury, but she had never personally encountered it before. Hopefully, the injured Ranger would heal quickly. She unwound the cloth tied about his brow. She parted the Man’s long hair to examine the swollen bruise, and gently probed the injury for any bits of glass.
While Halbarad stood by with clean cloths, Gilly cleaned Aragorn’s head wound first with soap and water, then an antiseptic solution from her satchel. She was relieved when her patient stirred slightly, his eyelids flickering. A good sign, she thought. He’s on the verge of waking…
“That’s all I can do for the moment,” Gilly said, re-wrapping a clean bandage about Aragorn’s brow. She patted the Ranger’s cheek gently. “Estel? Estel, can you hear me?”
I swear to you, Gandalf, that the Dúnedain will not fail to protect the Shire from intrusion. This land will be kept safe, and the halflings will know only peace.
“Estel, can you open your eyes?”
From a fog of swirling images and memories, Aragorn opened his eyes with an effort. As his blurred vision cleared, he realized that a female hobbit with kind, thoughtful eyes was gazing down at him.
“There you are,” Gilly said softly. “Can you tell me your name?”
“Estel,” Aragorn said after a moment.
“Very good. And do you know where you are?”
“This is... Bag End,” Aragorn said, looking around the room. “Captain...” His eyes lit on Halbarad.
“I am not--”
“A moment, Halbarad,” Gilly cautioned. “Estel, my name is Gilly. I know your head must ache dreadfully, but I need to know if you feel pain anywhere else.”
“Just...” Aragorn started to move his right hand, but Gilly stopped him.
“You have a sprained wrist,” she told him. “Anything else?”
“I think I... I feel...”
Seeing the man pale beneath his tan, Gilly quickly motioned for Halbarad to bring her a basin. But Halbarad was already in motion, moving quickly to the bed and holding his chieftain with one arm and the basin with the other as Aragorn began to vomit. Finally, Aragorn sank back weakly onto the pillow.
“It’s all right,” Gilly said, wiping his face with a clean, damp cloth. “You were hit quite hard with a piece of board, most likely. No other pains?”
“No,” Aragorn murmured. “What happened after... Is Frodo well? And Sam? What of the children who--”
“Sam is fine, as are all the hobbits you warned off,” Gilly told him. “Frodo was injured, Estel, but not badly. You can see him tomorrow.”
Aragorn sighed and closed his eyes again. “Very... dizzy,” he whispered.
“Just rest now,” Gilly said softly. She hopped off the bed and motioned Halbarad to join her in the hallway.
“Estel may sleep quite a bit for a few days, Halbarad, so don’t let it frighten you. I left a mild sleep potion for Frodo, but Estel may not require it. He’ll no doubt be quite dizzy for a time. Don’t be alarmed if he grows slightly feverish tonight; he and Frodo both may suffer a bit of infection, although I tried to clean both their wounds as thoroughly as possible.”
“I know.”
“Don’t worry overmuch,” Gilly said, smiling up at the worried young Ranger. “Estel seems strong, and head injuries can be quite unpredictable. His thoughts may clear quickly, once the swelling goes down and he’s had a chance to rest.”
“I hope you are right.”
“Now then, I need to give Sam a quick check, then it’s home to start supper for my children. I’ll be back tomorrow morning, but Bilbo will send someone to fetch me if there’s any emergency before then.”
“Thank you, Mistress,” Halbarad said gratefully. Inside, however, his thoughts were tumbling wildly. Tomorrow morning... He couldn’t possibly leave Aragorn, and yet... what would the Dwarves think if none of the Dúnedain came to meet with them? He wished Thalguron was here, or even...
“Halbarad...” Aragorn whispered.
“Right here,” Halbarad said, quickly re-entering the bedroom.
“How badly is Frodo hurt?”
”You remember Frodo...”
“Of course,” Aragorn frowned. “Why would I not?”
“Because you do not... remember me,” Halbarad said. “You call me ‘Captain’.”
“Are you not our captain?” Aragorn asked, puzzled. “Then who is?”
“You are,” Halbarad told him.
“But it is you who lead our people,” Aragorn insisted. “I trust you with my life.”
“As I trust you with mine,” Halbarad said with a smile. “However, it is you who lead us. Mistress Brownlock said your thoughts should clear as your wound heals. Do not let this matter concern you.”
“But tomorrow we must ride north!” Aragorn said. He tried to rise, but the headache and dizziness were too overwhelming. “I was to stand at your side, and...”
Halbarad sighed. “I do not know what to do about tomorrow. You cannot travel. Can you tell me exactly where the Dwarves were to meet us, and what you planned to say to them?”
Aragorn frowned. “Do you not know?”
Halbarad shook his head and got to his feet. “I will bring fresh water. Just rest, Aragorn.”
“Why do you call me that?”
Halbarad stared at him. “It is the name your father gave you.” He thought for a moment, then went to where Aragorn’s weapons stood propped against the wall. Ignoring the knives, bow and quiver, he reverently lifted a sheath engraved with Elvish letters and brought it to the bed.
“This sheath holds what remains of Narsil, the sword used by Elendil to cut the Enemy’s ring from his hand. You are the keeper of these shards, Aragorn, as the direct descendant of Elendil. You are our chieftain and the hope of all peoples.” He rested a hand to his heart for a moment, his eyes shining.
Aragorn stared at the sheath in wonder and confusion. Halbarad would not lie. How is it that I do not remember this?
Halbarad was startled to see something in his chieftain’s eyes he had never before seen – pain, fear... vulnerability. He wondered how often Aragorn saw these same things mirrored in his own eyes. He stood straighter, a new resolve filling him.
Should I represent our people in front of the Dwarves, I will stand before them as Aragorn would – with confidence and dignity… even if I do not fully believe that those qualities are as yet part of me.
~*~
Gilly returned to Frodo’s room and smiled at the sight of the lad, clad in a pale blue nightshirt, sound asleep. Curled next to one lax hand was Scamp, also asleep, and Sam was just sliding a cunning wooden ramp into place next to the bed.
“It’s so Scamp can get on and off the bed,” Sam explained. “She’s waddlin’ so much now, she can’t go jumpin’ up and down like before.”
“Very clever,” Gilly nodded. She removed the cloth from Frodo’s forehead. “The swelling is down considerably. I think we can leave this off now. Sam, I saw your father bringing up more ice from the cellar, and asked him to join us when he’s finished. Has everyone else gone?”
“I think Mr. Bilbo’s in the pantry,” Sam replied. “Boys from town brought up the groceries he bought today, and he’s puttin’ away the last of things. Halfred and my mum and sisters have gone home for a bit, to do chores and start supper. And... Mr. Bilbo asked if I could stay here tonight, to look after Scamp and run any errands needed.”
“I know Bilbo is very grateful to have you nearby, Sam,” Gilly said. “He and Frodo think the world of you and your family.”
“It’s t’other way ‘round, Mistress,” Sam blushed. “Mr. Bilbo and Mr. Frodo are... well, there aren’t many like them, are there?”
“No indeed.” Gilly said. Sam’s father came into the room. “Hamfast, would you mind staying while I check Sam for any cuts from all that flying glass?”
“I’m fine, Mistress Brownlock,” Sam protested as Gilly motioned him over to her.
“I’m sure you are. Just let me...” Quickly but thoroughly, she ran her hands over Sam’s head, chest, and arms. “Does anything hurt or sting, Sam?”
“No, ma’am,” Sam said. “I was awful lucky, I guess.” His eyes suddenly filled with tears.
“Sam,” Gilly said gently, “what is it?”
“When they… when Mr. Frodo and Mr. Estel were just lyin’ there, all still and... I thought they were dead! I thought...” Hamfast hurried over and gathered his son in his arms as Sam started to sob.
“Shhh, lad,” Hamfast said soothingly. “It’s all right. Shhh, now...”
Gilly went to the bed and checked the skin around the sutures on Frodo’s arm, then felt the boy’s face. He’s a bit warm, but that’s to be expected, she thought. This could have been so much worse.
“Sam,” Hamfast said, handing Sam a pocket handkerchief, “Mr. Bilbo is near exhausted with worry, and needs to eat. I’m goin' to tell Mr. Halbarad that supper is ready, and see that he and Mr. Bilbo eat somethin’. Your mum made sure there’s plenty.”
Sam nodded and blew his nose.
“I want you to go on home, lad, and have your own supper. And you’ll be needin’ a bath before you come back to stay with Mr. Frodo and the pup. Go on, now.”
Sam hugged his father hard which, Gilly noted with amusement, seemed to at once embarrass and please Hamfast.
“Is my boy all right, Mistress?” Hamfast asked anxiously, once Sam had gone. “Truly all right?”
“Hamfast,” Gilly said, “Sam escaped any physical injury, but he might be a little upset for a few days.”
“D’you think it’s all right for him to stay here tonight? He’s got his heart set on it.”
“There’s nothing I could prescribe better than that,” Gilly smiled. “Being able to see for himself that his friends are in no danger, and beginning to heal, is the best medicine I can think of.”
Scamp snuffled and twitched a bit in her sleep, and Hamfast’s face softened as he looked at her.
“She’s a sweet one, isn’t she?” Gilly asked.
“She’ll do,” Hamfast said grudgingly, “for a scrap o’ dog.”
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