These characters belong to the estate of J.R.R. Tolkien. This story was written for pleasure and not for financial gain

Some ideas in this chapter were inspired by Nightwing's gripping “To see a World" and is used with her kind permission.

Warning - This Chapter contains severe angst and may distress sensitive readers.

Two are better than one; because they have a good reward for their labour. For if they fall, the one will lift up his fellow: but woe to him that is alone when he falleth; for he hath not another to help him up. Again, if two lie together, then they have heat: but how can one be warm alone? And if one prevail against him, two shall withstand him; and a threefold cord is not quickly broken.

Bible: Ecclesiastes, 4:9-12.

Faramir knew that he could not leave his King's lifeless body here for ravening wolves to devour. The hungry beasts would be abroad, once the weather improved enough for them to venture out of their dens.

He reverently scooped up the still form and gently laid it across Roheryn’s back. Numb, and heavy of heart with cold and grief, he made his way back to the cave. He had no idea how to break the news to Elbeth that her friend was dead. It would be better for her to believe that he has at least died within the cave, rather than alone in the snow.

To his surprise, Roheryn followed him inside, where he took the precious burden from his back and carefully laid it down.

A glimmer of hope flared anew, once within the cosy sanctuary, which Elbeth had minded well during his absence.

He had known men, whom he had served with, fall into freezing water and appear lifeless, only to revive once they were warmed. If only a healer were here who would know how to help Aragorn! He knew, though, that he must try to help him, however hopeless the task appeared.

Elbeth rushed towards them. “What has happened to Strider, Uncle Faramir?” she asked in dismay. “He doesn’t look very well! Why has he turned such a funny colour?”

Faramir desperately sought the right words to gently break the dreadful news to her. He swiftly carried Aragorn to the fire and laid him down on a pelt in front of it. He lifted the simmering pot of water from the fire and put it to one side to cool slightly.

“He is very ill indeed because he is so cold. We need to try to warm him,” Faramir explained, already pulling the cold, damp shirt from Aragorn’s inert frame. “Turn your back, please, as I need to get these damp clothes off him. Can you get some towels and hand them to me? ”

To his relief, Elbeth obeyed without asking any further questions, her demeanour suggesting she suspected the cruel truth.

Swiftly, he removed the freezing and sodden bandages and drawers from Aragorn’s skeletal frame. He tested the temperature of the water, to see it had cooled sufficiently so as not to cause shock, if by some miracle any flicker of life remained.

He carefully bathed Aragorn’s body with warm water, hoping that it would thaw him.

Drying him quickly, he clothed the King in fresh drawers, laid him on the bedroll and wrapped as many blankets as he could find around him, as well as one of the pelts, laid fur side downwards. Aragorn remained cold and still throughout the Steward’s ministrations; his skin pale and blue tinged. Faramir was increasingly certain that all his efforts were in vain.

He pressed his ear to the icy chest, detecting not the slightest flutter of life in the brief moments he was able to endure holding it there.

Yet, he could not bring himself to admit that it was a hopeless task.

More memories from his days in the army came flooding back. Once, Mablung had been wounded and left for dead overnight in freezing rain. They had gone the next morning to retrieve the body for burial, when Damrod had suggested that they warm him before giving up hope. To everyone's surprise, he had made a complete recovery.

“Uncle Faramir, can I turn around yet? How is Strider?” Elbeth's anxious voice roused him from his reverie.

“Yes, you can look now,” Faramir replied, ”Strider is no better, I fear.”

“He will wake up won't he? Please say that he will, Uncle Faramir!”

“I do not know, Elbeth,” Faramir replied sadly.

“He can't die, he can’t!”Elbeth protested, bursting into tears. “Please can't you help him?”

Slight though the chances of success were, Faramir realised there was still one method left that he could still try; to warm him as he had done in the Hunting Lodge; ideally it needed at least two for that method to be effective, though. Aragorn was far colder than he had been then and most likely beyond all human aid. If only …owyn were here to help him! Also, the King had trusted his Steward then, when now he both feared and no doubt hated him. However, Faramir had to try, even though he shuddered at the prospect of clasping what felt like a block of ice against his skin. Yet, so great was his devotion to his King, that even if trying to warm him cost his life, he would give it gladly.

He turned to Elbeth. ”I am going to undress and try and use the warmth from my own body to help him. The fire and the blankets are not enough.”

“I want to help too!” she insisted, “I’m nice and warm, I can hold him too!”

Faramir shook his head, and threw some more wood on the fire. He could not permit a child to clasp what was most likely a frozen corpse in her arms! Taking a deep breath, he started to undress, shivering as he pulled his warm outer tunic over his head. “No, Elbeth, he is so cold that it would hurt you to touch him. I need you to keep putting wood on the fire when it burns low.”

“Please let me help!” she begged, her lower lip trembling. “He is my friend!”

Faramir relented, removing his shirt as he spoke. ”Well, you can wrap yourself warmly in your blanket and lie the other side of him.”

“Do you want me to take my clothes off too? “ she enquired.

“No!” Faramir replied hastily. “Just huddle as close as you can to him.”

Even with the fire blazing, the air in the cave felt cold and damp on his bared chest and arms. He was starting to develop goose bumps already. He was too distraught about Aragorn’s condition to care that it was considered most improper to appear shirtless in front of a lady, however young.

Shedding his boots, he slid under the covers beside his King, enfolding the icy body close against his warm one, trying his utmost not to recoil from his freezing flesh. Under the cover of the blankets, he wriggled out of his breeches. He hesitated over whether to retain his drawers or not for the sake of propriety. He concluded the material was too thin to trap much heat

It took all his willpower not to cry out and recoil from the King’s icy flesh pressed close against his chest and belly. He tried to breath deeply and directed his warm breath against Aragorn's neck and chest, trying to warm his heart.

Aragorn still gave no sign of life and Faramir felt overwhelmed by grief and helplessness. His hot tears involuntarily fell on his King’s icy brow.

“Please, please live!” he whispered in Sindarin. “You have given me so much. All the love that my father denied me, and even my very life as well as that of my wife and child! I love you. Please come back to me! I cannot bear to lose you! Let me restore you to Arwen and your son!”

He wondered if he should try to sing as he had done in the Hunting Lodge. He feared, however, if Aragorn could hear it would only distress him and sap any remaining will to live. “Elbeth do you know any songs?” he asked through chattering teeth.

“Lots!” she replied, gamely snuggling closer to Aragorn's frozen back.

“Will you sing them to Strider then?” he asked.

“Of course! There was a pretty little cat who went to catch a mouse; but when the stars and moon came out, it ran back in the house!” Elbeth sang in a clear childish voice, sending a wistful pang through Faramir’s heart.

Faramir could remember his mother singing him to sleep with that nursery song long ago, and it tore at his heart. He had lost her, then Boromir and his father. How could he bear to lose Aragorn too? He clutched him all the more tightly and begged Elbeth to continue singing.

“Then all the mice came out to play, because the cat had run away!” Elbeth sang before repeating the first verse again.

Aragorn looked so peaceful now that he could have been asleep, were it not for his dreadful pallor and sunken cheeks. Faramir remembered wistfully all the times when Aragorn had devotedly cared for him, even when he tried to reject all the kindness he had so freely offered. It seemed so unjust that the bitter cold should still such a warm and generous heart.

Faramir grew ever colder, despite the mountain of covers, transferring his warmth to the frozen man in his arms. He told Elbeth to throw more logs on the fire and felt some warmth returning to his own body as the fire blazed up.

Elbeth's singing died away as weariness overcame her and the exhausted child fell asleep. Faramir maintained his lonely vigil, knowing that if Aragorn were alive, he would show some sign once he grew warm. He became increasingly anxious as the hours passed.

Suddenly, he felt it: a faint heartbeat reverberating against his own! Silent and heartfelt tears of relief ran down his cheeks and he could have shouted for joy. He pressed Aragorn closer to his chest and began to gently massage his back. The King groaned and started to shiver violently making it difficult to keep his hold on him.

He had heard somewhere that this was a good sign. More than ever he longed for …owyn to be by his side. ”Come on!” he whispered. “You can recover, I know it! You are strong, fight to live with that strength! You are safe now, none shall harm you while I live.”

***

The night seemed endless for …owyn, attempting to alternately soothe both Arwen and Elestelle, all the while trying to contain her own mounting sense of panic. If Aragorn were to die, she was certain that Faramir, as well as Arwen, would quickly follow.

She had long since realised that Elves, and Men of Numenorean descent, could form such strong mental bonds that they became entwined in each other's souls. She was very grateful not to have inherited such a dubious ‘gift’ from her grandmother. Someone had to take a practical view and be ready to care for the two orphaned babies that would result. She had come to love Eldarion almost as her own and would never abandon him. However could she alone protect two infants in a world so hostile to them, though?

Eldarion had his uncles but they could hardly provide the milk that he needed, powerful Elves though they might be! All she could look forward to; was depending on …omer’s charity for the rest of her days, should Faramir and Aragorn fall; a fate she dreaded, much though she loved her brother.

Initially, she had only accepted Faramir's proposal because she had no wish to return to Rohan. Now she had come to love him deeply and become a blissfully happy wife. Arwen too, she loved as a dear sister and could not bear to lose either of them. As for Aragorn; he had blazed across Middle earth like a comet. His loss would grieve her deeply.

Arwen alternately stared into space, or shook and sobbed, while …owyn sat with her arms around her, trying vainly to comfort her. Both babies whimpered incessantly and refused to be comforted. …owyn had a strong suspicion that Elestelle was experiencing some sort of mental link either with Aragorn or her father.

Suddenly Arwen relaxed and both infants ceased crying. The Queen turned to look at her friend and smiled. “He lives,” she said, “Estel lives, his life force waxes much stronger now !”

Eowyn burst into tears, which was most unlike her. So great was her relief, she was no longer able to contain her emotion. None of this made any sense to her and yet she knew Arwen was speaking the truth.

She sniffed loudly before saying briskly, “That is very good news, I will make us some tea!”

***

Gradually, Aragorn's breathing deepened. His cold flesh became warmer and a trace of colour returned to his pallid features. He appeared now to be a natural sleep.

Overcome by exhaustion, Faramir fell asleep too.

He had no idea for how long he slept. When he awoke he was confused as to why Aragorn was in his arms under so many covers. Then he remembered. He carefully disentangled himself and felt for a heartbeat. It was strong and steady. He could have laughed for sheer joy.

He glanced across the now sleeping King and smiled to see Elbeth still curled up fast asleep on the other side, cocooned in her blanket.

Slowly he sat up, noticing for the first time that his arms and chest felt damp and sticky. He took up the candle and pulled the blankets aside a few inches to investigate, discovering that Aragorn’s infected wounds had at last burst and drained their contents. Quickly, he pulled on his breeches before sliding out from under the covers. He knew Aragorn would become distressed if he found him beside him, after all that had happened. He needed to tend his wounds before he woke up.

Grabbing his discarded shirt, he mopped himself with it before donning it again, together with his tunic. He then put some water on the fire to heat.

Gathering together the supply of salves and bandages, he gently bathed Aragorn’s wounds, wiping away the pus and fresh blood which now oozed from them, before applying a salve of calendula and carefully bandaging them. Aragorn moaned slightly but did not awaken. To his dismay, he noticed that the King's hands and feet were now purple and swollen. They looked extremely painful.

Remembering …owyn had told him that a hot drink was beneficial; Faramir put more water on the fire to boil. While he was waiting, he quickly washed his hands before making some tea and trying to rouse the King.

“Aragorn!” he called gently, wondering what manner of reception he would get. “Come, wake up!”