Goran had not slept all through the night, concerned that he was of his own
future. If the Ranger woke up, he would recognize him as the killer who had
driven two arrows into him. If they crossed paths once more, Goran's life was
over.
Why had the Man not died in that quarry? How could anyone have survived such
an ordeal?
Goran's cottage seemed too small for him now. Suffocating. He wanted to escape
and flee over the Plains, towards a land where no soul knew him. Gondor,
perhaps, where he could lead a good life in the White City. He had many victims
behind him. If anyone caught his scent, he would surely die.
Yet as the morning progressed, Goran breathed at ease.
The Horseman had heard rumors coming from the Houses of Healing that the
stranger was still fighting for his life and had not spoken a word yet. Perhaps
there was hope after all.
Killing Itarildë was the best sensation Goran had ever felt. Her life slipping
through his fingers, the light of her eyes dying when she looked upon him in
fright, knowing that he had taken away her future. To watch life seep out of her,
trickling in thick red blood upon the ground. What a rush.
The rush he felt after his first kill, now three moons ago, was nothing compared to
Itarildë's death. It became better every time, and he knew he could not stop
himself.
Even with the Elves residing in Edoras, Goran knew he would have to find another
victim too. If not in one of the villages, he would take his chances upon a woman
living in Edoras. His thirst for blood was growing, and trembled him.
But first, he would finish unfinished business.
It was misfortune that crossed the paths of Goran and Strider.
That same thirst of blood had driven him out of Edoras and into the night, staring
inside the cottage where Itarildë's bower beckoned him. He had not thought that
anyone would see him, for he had learned to travel light and swift as the best of
Rangers. And the cottage stood on the outskirts of the village, almost unprotected
as if the woman feared nothing.
It had been perfect. He had entered the hut without any quarrel with the girl and
when he grasped her by the hair and forced his mouth upon hers to taste her
bitter fear coming from the inside, he had heard a Man's voice behind him and a
sword that rested upon the back of his neck.
"You have no right to take what does not belong to you," the voice spoke harsh,
and Goran had turned to find a stranger look upon him. A stranger, dressed as a
Ranger from the North. His eyes fierce and his clothes and hair dark.
Goran had let go of the girl and in the struggle that had followed, he had seen
that the man wore Ranger's clothes and was a warrior. Goran was not. The
Horseman had thrown himself into the Ranger, fleeing the cottage and shutting
the door after, locking it before the stranger could escape it and follow him to slay
him.
And then he had taken his small bow and arrows and opened the door on his own
account and had fired the bow as the coward that he was.
And after he had murdered the girl, he had seen that the Ranger's horse – an
Elfish horse - waited near his own and he remembered seeing a camp of Elves on
his way to the village within a stone's throw of the village entry. He had avoided
that place, for he knew Elves had strong scents and good skills.
He had taken the other route outside the village, past its Inn and its closed gates,
cloaking himself and rolling the Ranger in a blanket and telling the guards that his
friend had fallen drunk from ale. They had let him pass without questions,
laughing at the drunken Man lying over the horse's saddle.
Goran knew he had let his pride take over his common sense. He should have
killed the Ranger in the cottage but he had enjoyed the thought of him being
devoured by the cold or the wolves. It was a punishment, he had thought. A
punishment for cutting short his longer thrill of the kill. Now he would have to
finish his task and do what he should have done.
But how? If the Ranger was still on the verge of living, he would need a push over
the edge. Something that would send him into the world of dark, where he would
meet the soul of Itarildë and be done with.
And then it came to the man who had spent his entire life looking after horses and
caring for them more than he did for Men. He had the answers near him and it
was so simple.
Goran left the safety of his cottage and rushed to the stables where he rummaged
through the many herbs he used for his animals. He shoved a parcel in his pocket
and headed for the Houses of Healing, walking light and swift.
*
For hours Legolas would stare intent at his sleeping friend, hoping to catch a
glimpse of awakening from Aragorn's form. The Elf felt exhaustion catch up with
him, as he had not rested for more than a day.
For a long time it seemed as if nothing could wake Aragorn, but then his arm
moved. The Elf looked up, instantly alert, and woke up Elrond's sons who had
taken two chairs near the fire. Elrohir and Elladan had worked for hours with their
father to nurse the wounded Man back to health, hoping for that one token that
he would fare well.
The three of them were the only ones inside the room, except for one of the four
Healers who now slept on a small cod near the door. For many minutes they had
spoken of their friend and brother, and now, at long last, the Man's thoughts had
returned to join them.
The Elves could tell Aragorn was struggling, but he overcame. Elladan and Elrohir
approached the bed but it was Legolas that the Man saw first. He opened his
mouth to speak but felt he could not. His throat was dry, his voice wavering.
"Rest easily, my friend," Legolas spoke soothing and with care. "You have been
through quite an ordeal, but you will live. We are here: your brothers and I. And
your father, who is with Théoden King."
Aragorn nodded and smiled wearily, his tired eyes telling of the exhaustion he still
felt. Then he slept again, comforted by their presence.
"Our human friend lives," Elladan said, grasping the arms of his brother and
friend. "There is no doubt in my mind now that he will heal quickly. I shall tell
father."
"You should find Lady Moira and tell her the good news," Elrohir said to Legolas. "I
think she needs to hear it to ease her thoughts."
"You are right," Legolas said. "And I needed to hear it too."