Orlando gracefully broke from his fast flurry with Tosca and danced away. After saluting his friend with his sword Orlando scowled in fake irritation. “Come now, old man, how can you still evade me during that move? Are you practicing in your sleep? You are fighting brilliantly!”
A panting Tosca shook his head in admiration. “I think I can say the same of you, little boy. You’re forcing me to rise above my own skills! Stars Above, you’re moving as fast as an Elf!”
“Orlando?”
Orlando turned toward the inside practice room’s door and smiled at Húrin. The cautious look aimed his way faded Orlando’s welcoming smile. “ Húrin, does the uncertain weather cause that dour look or have I done something to insult you? And why are you away from your post? Aren’t you assigned to the second floor council offices?”
Húrin shook his head and frowned. “Unfortunately I am away from my post because Lord Halbarad requests your presence in his office.”
Stiffness invaded Orlando’s body. “Why?”
“I do not know but here I am to obey his order. He wants to see you immediately.”
A slight arrogance coated Orlando’s accented voice. “Oh does he now? Well I do not answer to Halbarad. I answer to the King and I am supposed to meet him in a half-hour outside the royal nursery. I came to practice because he didn’t think he needed to be guarded from his baby daughters.” Orlando’s slight joke gained no smile from Húrin’s thin face. “You truly have no idea what Halbarad wants with me?”
A shrug answered Orlando’s query. “ Orlando, he told me to fetch you and he made it quite clear that I was to move swiftly. Please, I want no argument with the powerful Halbarad so can you humor him? I am sure he merely wants to annoy you. We all know how much he loves you, you filthy Haradrim.” This time a slight smile quirked Húrin’s lips. Halbarad’s obvious dislike for Orlando annoyed most of the guards. They didn’t appreciate one of their own being insulted and harassed for no good reason.
An impatient sigh gusted from Orlando. “True enough. In the four weeks since I have been Ar... the King’s bodyguard Halbarad has accosted me at least twice a day with useless queries about Ar... the King’s well-being. Bah, I’m surprised he doesn’t make me report on how many times the King answers nature’s call! I suppose this is more of the same protectiveness. Very well.” Orlando sheathed his sword and gestured to Tosca. “My friend, are you on duty soon?”
“No, I am free until five bells.”
“Excellent. If I don’t return here in a timely manner could you please inform King Aragorn where I am? Hopefully this matter won’t take that long.”
“Of course, Orlando.”
“Spoken like a true friend, unlike the man I am about to meet with, eh?”
The three guards shared a rueful laugh. It never ceased to amaze Orlando how easily he had befriended these elite warriors. Their friendship was based on his skills and his new relaxed personality, not his relationship with Aragorn or his heritage. He loved these proud men as the brothers he had never enjoyed.
As Orlando walked with Húrin he shook his head. “Tell me, Húrin, did Halbarad’s mood seem grimmer than normal?”
The lanky Húrin nodded in full agreement. “Absolutely. A strangely dismal expression lurked in his fierce eyes. Now that I think about it I feel this meeting might be serious. I don’t know, perhaps Halbarad heard of a dire threat against King Aragorn. That would definitely sour his mood and involve you.”
“But I feel then Halbarad would meet with us together. Do you know if he summoned the King?”
Húrin shook his head in denial. “Not to my knowledge so...”
“Well, I’ll soon know the mystery, eh?”
Orlando had barely knocked before Halbarad opened the door and silently admitted him. The second Orlando entered the room he heard the door snick shut. Bother, a shut door signaled a serious talk. Instead of giving Halbarad his immediate attention Orlando glanced out at the streaming rain. “What a miserable day, eh, Lord Halbarad? I fear summer is long behind us. Any struggling blooms are rapidly fading.” He turned from the window and studied Halbarad’s grave face. Yes, under his usual stern appearance the advisor looked almost... ill. “So what matters do I need to deal with today, my Lord? I can report that when last I saw King Aragorn, which was an hour ago, he appeared hale and hearty and looked forward to enjoying a visit with his daughters.”
Halbarad pointed to the chair in front of his desk. “Sit.”
Orlando bristled at his abrupt tone. He wasn’t a dog to be ordered about. In defiance he glanced out at the rain for another minute then he settled into the chair and finally met Halbarad’s bleak stare. A chill touched him. The expression in Halbarad’s eyes did not bode well.
The advisor shook his head and sighed. He did not relish this ugly duty. “You are always so recklessly proud. And arrogant, yes, I always sensed your ingrained arrogance. Now I understand where it comes from.” Halbarad steepled his fingers and leaned forward. “I regret to inform you that you’ve made a serious enemy of a royal family member, No Name... or wait, that’s not accurate anymore, son of Arieft Bloomahir, 20th Duke of Homrassarid, that butchering pawn of Sauron who led the Haradrim forces against us at Pelennor. Yes, you now possess a family name and you are right not to be proud of it.”
Orlando ’s heart immediately encased in killing ice. He almost couldn’t breath. As he felt his life begin to die away in slow stealthy pieces his soul wilted like a frail sprout uprooted and denied water. A vast nothingness coated him.
As he stared down at the folder Halbarad continued his sad litany. “I read of Orlando Bloomahir, a lad wanted in Homrassarid for the suspected slaying of said 20th Duke. And I viewed with horror the tale of Orlando Bloomahir, a mere youth who spent two years imprisoned in an Umbarian brothel run by a notorious monster named Ulfang of Khun.” After pausing Halbarad looked up and watched the youth’s wide brown eyes fix on in him in blind rage. The sight wasn’t promising. “Well? Are you this Orlando Bloomahir?”
Suddenly a near to convulsing Orlando could only see his wretched, foul demon father beating him senseless while calling him nothing. Orlando saw the demon gleefully snapping the locks shut on the chains holding Orlando prisoner before the monster sent his own son to that Umbarian brothel.
The healing so skillfully wrought by Aragorn began snapping strand by delicate strand. A choking growl erupted from Orlando’s throat.
The watching Halbarad frowned in apprehension. Instead of reacting with verbal violence, which he full expected, Orlando sat there trembling. A feral gleam slowly entered his staring dark eyes. What was wrong with the lad?
Why wasn’t his ghastly father dead? Why did he sit here laughing at him? One snarling shriek slashed through the damp air then Orlando leapt to his feet. “You foul monster, I killed you once! Why are you back to ruin my new life? Why?” Next a long, lovingly preserved sword flashed free and wildly lunged at the eternally laughing demon.
What? Halbarad bellowed in surprise and threw his body sideways. Not quick enough. The sword’s finely honed point sliced into his tunic, bit into his upper arm, rampaged through flesh then impaled into the chair’s padded leather back cushion. As he hissed in pain Halbarad clamped his left hand against the wound. Blood spurted through his fingers.
An out of control Orlando screamed in frustrated anguish. The trembling Haradrim leaned across the desk, grasped the carved handle and yanked the sword free from the leather padding. He raised it anew at his father who now sneered in loathing triumph. By the Burning Sands this time he would not miss.
Choking at the pain Halbarad desperately held out his bloodied hand toward Orlando. Quick, talk to this delusional fury! The stunned advisor adopted his best commanding tone. “ Orlando, no! Stop! Listen to my voice. I am not who you think I am! Halbarad ! I am Halbarad, not your father! Orlando, listen to me Drop the sword NOW!”
Through the clamor in his confused mind Orlando suddenly heard words not spoken by his father’s voice. He blinked and watched in growing horror as Lord Halbarad held a bloodied hand toward him. NO! Lifeblood stained the advisor’s ivory tunic and turned the material a vivid crimson. But how... Orlando numbly stared at his precious sword and saw the bloodied point. He let the sullied weapon drop to the desk.
Suddenly a roaring black tide sucked at Orlando’s battered mind. What had he done? What had he... he staggered back a step. No! No, no, no... “NOOO!”
The fetid tide clutched at his consciousness, pulled, engulfed then it swept over him. One last strangled cry burst free before Orlando succumbed to the darkness drowning him. As he fainted his forehead slammed against the desk’s edge. His limp body slid down to the floor.
An alarmed Húrin flung open the office door and gaped. What in the Gods had happened here? “By the Stars, Lord Halbarad... what...”
Looking up from stanching his bleeding arm Halbarad barked out his orders. “Bring Aragorn to me now! Bring him here then summon a healer to this office. Speak to no one else, do you understand me? If you utter one word of what you see here I will banish you to guard the war beacon on Mt. Ethring. Now go!”
After Húrin sped away Halbarad walked over and locked the door. Next he ripped off his sleeve and examined the wound. Nothing serious; the blade had carved away a sizable flesh chunk but it had not injured muscle. He tightened the ripped material around his throbbing arm. Yes, he had endured far worse in his time.
Gods, what about Orlando? Halbarad hastened around the desk and rolled the young guard onto his back. A line of bright blood freely seeped from Orlando’s head wound and painted vivid streaks across his swarthy flesh. Thank the Valar the wound looked superficial. Head wounds often looked worse than they truly were. Ahh, excellent; his breathing seemed regular.
As the shock of the attack caught up with him Halbarad sank to the floor and moaned. Wait. Rising he grabbed Orlando’s sword from his desk and paced to the long green velvet drapes. Halbarad slid the bloodied blade behind the material and returned to Orlando. Ahh . Dizzy. First he slumped against his desk then he collapsed into Orlando’s former seat. He must have lost more blood then he suspected. Yes, his tunic was saturated.
The advisor silently stared down at Orlando’s bleeding face. As a Dúnedian Ranger turned advisor he had trained for many different situations yet this bizarre encounter left him sickened and disoriented. Beyond the closed door he heard voices approach. Aragorn. Questioning, concerned, frustrated. Halbarad knew soon that familiar voice would also contain pain and rage.
He unlocked the door just as Aragorn pounded once. When the King saw his friend coated in blood he gasped. “ Halbarad! What happened to you?”
Halbarad shook his head. “Not as bad as it looks. Is Húrin fetching a healer?”
“Yes but...” Aragorn pushed in and saw Orlando lying on the floor. A frightened gasp sounded. No !... “What in the Valar happened here? Orlando?” Aragorn dropped to his knees and rolled back his lover’s right eyelid. Healing. Gods, he hadn’t abused that power in years. Murmuring softly he gently touched Orlando’s bleeding head. His lover moaned but remained unconscious. Although Orlando didn’t awaken Aragorn sensed nothing physically life threatening. But mentally... something felt extremely wrong. Aragorn tenderly stroked Orlando’s tousled long hair then he used his silk tunic to blot at the blood drenching that beautiful face. Never did he ever dream he’d see his beloved bleeding. Never.
Halbarad wearily settled into the chair again and watched Aragorn examine Orlando. Healing. Gods, Aragorn never used that skill anymore. He claimed it unnerved him.
Once he determined that Orlando wasn’t in immediate danger Aragorn glared up at Halbarad’s pale face.
The fury in Aragorn’s light piercing stare almost made Halbarad finch. Aragorn’s vocal inflection wasn’t much kinder. “What foul words forced Orlando into attacking you?”
The advisor tried sounding reasonable. “Enough of the truth to make Orlando go mad on me. Aragorn, please listen to me. The Haradrim is an extremely unstable man. You cannot have...”
Aragorn frigid voice slashed against Halbarad’s words. “What did you say to my lover?”
Ahh, fine, suddenly this disaster was all Halbarad’s fault. No. As he replied Halbarad’s voice descended into equal harsh anger. “I told Orlando the truth about himself and he wasn’t pleased with me. How much do you know about his revolting past?”
Somehow Aragorn restrained himself from leaping up and crashing his fist against Halbarad’s pale cheek. He would feel foolish beating on a wounded man, especially one he once regarded as a friend. “You cruel old bastard. How perverse of you. So you refused to give up persecuting him. You are...”
The advisor held up his bloodied left hand. “Take care, Aragorn, take care. I did nothing except pass along someone else’s intense research. Obviously someone else mistrusted this No Name even worse than I once did.”
Aragorn barked out one word. “Who?”
“Your son.”
Sick horror flooded into Aragorn’s already anguished mind. “ Eldarion? Oh Elbereth save us no. No. But...” He fell silent. So his son had his revenge on Orlando. Yes, this time his son had gone too far.
Halbarad’s voice now sounded onion-skin thin. The wretched expression suffusing Aragorn’s strong face sickened him. “When I entered my office today I found a folder filled with lovingly gathered information on Orlando Bloomahir, son of Arieft Bloomahir, 20th Duke of Homrassarid.” Aragorn’s startled surprise paused Halbarad’s words. “Yes, the name rings an ugly bell, eh? This boy that you have taken into your bed is a fanatical Sauron supporter’s offspring. Is it any wonder he went by No Name? He knew he’d be arrested on the spot.”
Through a mighty effort Aragorn banished the shivers infecting his capable fingers. Seeking some familiar comfort he buried them in Orlando’s rich dark hair and convulsively massaged. No. Hearing that the demon who haunted Orlando was the notorious Duke of Homrassarid...suddenly Orlando’s ugly childhood made horrible sense. He truly had been spawned by a monster. “Why would Orlando be arrested? He killed that monstrous slime. He killed him because that demon made an eight-year-old Orlando watch his own young mother murdered by torturous, foul ritual. Orlando killed him because at age 15 Bloomahir found his son having an affair with a guard so he sold Orlando to an Umbarian whorehouse where the boy was tortured and raped for two years before he escaped and joined with a band of mercenaries. After two more years Orlando returned home and killed his father because that cur tried preventing Orlando from rescuing his Grandfather’s beloved sword from where Orlando had hidden it for safe keeping. After that last trauma Orlando fled to Gondor in hope of a new life. Now this tragedy occurs.” Aragorn relentlessly stared into Halbarad’s surprised gaze. “Yes, Halbarad, Orlando has told me everything except this last sick detail. And I still want him, as you so crudely put it, in my bed because I love him although what you have done here today may have destroyed our happiness.”
“You love him.”
Aragorn looked down into Orlando’s face and felt his words in his soul. “I love him more than myself.”
Many emotions flowed through Halbarad. Aragorn’s love drastically changed this situation. Now he knew nothing he said would make a difference. But he must try. “Aragorn, please try and see reason here. Love or not, you must remember that Orlando is the son of a monster who tried to kill you plus I believe he is mad.”
“ Reason? I am seeing reason. I know Orlando’s internal madness is built upon torment and suffering. The only person he ever hurt was himself. I had cured him through love now you have ruined him.” Aragorn felt like his heart had been placed under a mountain. The intense pressure infecting his chest reminded him of his age.
Wait. His questioning stare returned to Halbarad. “Hold, why do you call him mad?”
“Do you know why Orlando truly attacked me? When I told the boy the truth he thought I was his father. I watched him change into a raving stranger then Orlando ranted something about his father ruing his life again just before he lunged at me. I threw myself aside but not far enough. Luckily I broke through his delusion before he tried again. And trust me, Orlando was mere inches away from killing me. What’s to say he won’t try again?”
Fresh realization streaked through Aragorn. Ah no. Another dreadful puzzle piece. “By the Gods that’s why you unnerved Orlando so badly. You reminded him of his hated father. Oh what a sick turn of events. No, Halbarad, he won’t try again. He truly isn’t violent but your news snapped something.”
A respectful knock sounded on the door. Aragorn responded. “Who is it?”
“Húrin, Sire. I have Healer Glinden with me.”
“Enter.”
The young Healer bustled into the office and blinked in surprise. She never expected to see the King kneeling while supporting a wounded guard. And...what had happened to Lord Halbarad? She knelt next to Orlando and touched his bleeding flesh. “How was this guard injured?”
Halbarad shook his head. “He fell and hit his head.”
The Healer blinked her pale green eyes again and fixed her gaze on the serious blood staining the advisor’s tunic. “And you, Lord Halbarad, how were you injured?”
“I obviously was stabbed.”
“ What? By whom?”
A tense silence descended. Halbarad steadily met Aragorn’s deadly stare. He quickly decided, in the light of their long friendship, to lie. He allowed a mocking smile to creep free. “Perhaps I became clumsy with my extremely sharp letter opener.”
The young Healer sputtered in confusion but she had been at the palace long enough to know when she was being told to stop asking questions.
A nervous Húrin hovered by the closed door. Aragorn gazed up at his pale face. “Who is on duty in the royal corridor?”
“I-I-I-m not sure, Sire.”
Aragorn removed the Ring of Barahir and passed it to Húrin. “I want the way to my chambers cleared of guards. Show them my Ring and command it to be so and also tell them no one enters the halls until I give leave. Do this then return to me.”
Húrin swallowed and bowed. He was a brave enough guard but this strange matter sorely frightened his heart. What had gone wrong in here?
Glinden gently examined Orlando’s head. She glanced up at Aragorn in admiration. “Sire, I feel your healing touch upon him. His wound is largely superficial but... I feel... something more beyond his wound... yes, there’s something quite odd and almost...”
Ah, this young Healer proved skilled. Aragorn didn’t want her probing Orlando any further. He rudely cut into the Healer’s curious words. “I can deal with what you feel. Please, Healer Glinden, tend his head wound then see to Lord Halbarad.”
“Yes, Sire.”
This time a twisted smile crossed Halbarad’s face. Yes, so what, he could bleed a bit longer. He had much practice at bleeding although now his heart also bled for his old friend. Aragorn loved his Orlando. Loved. And Halbarad had... by the Valar what were they going to do now? What?
Silence fell as both men watched the efficient Healer gently clean then bandage Orlando’s wound. Glinden stared into the King’s pale tense face. “I recommend changing the bandage in a few hours, Sire. I will come and...”
Stop being so dedicated! Aragorn firmly shook his head. “No. I can take care of the matter.”
Racing footsteps sounded before Húrin slipped back into the office. “Sire, I have done as you commanded.”
“ Excellent. Now help me carry Orlando to my room.” Aragorn squatted and lifted Orlando into his muscular arms. His arms strained but he slowly rose to his feet and cradled his injured lover close. At least he could do this alone. “Well, it seems I can still carry a man’s weight. I surprise myself. Still, Húrin, I want you to escort me. Halbarad, when you are finished I also wish you to come to my chambers. Healer Glinden, listen well to me. You treated Lord Halbarad for a self-inflicted wound. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, Sire.”
An idea sprang into Aragorn’s mind. He kept his voice firm but non-threatening. “Matter of fact when you are done come with Halbarad to my chambers. Healer, I think you might enjoy a retreat in Ithilien with Legolas’ folk. I am sure you look forward to learning advanced Elven medicine.”
Another puzzled green-eyes blink followed then Glinden bowed. Something was very wrong here but it was not her place to ask. “Yes, Sire, that sounds, erm, pleasant.”
Aragorn nodded once. “Indeed. I will arrange passage for you.”
The tense journey up another flight of stairs and into the last grand corridor proved excruciating. Once safely in his bedroom Aragorn gently laid Orlando on their bed. He had barely made it; his strong arms now quivered and spasmed from stress. His entire body felt the physical strain but at least he had supported his lover. Now... Aragorn wanted to drop to the bed and cry in wretched despair but there was no time for such nonsense. His fingers swiftly undid Orlando’s outer garb then he tenderly adjusted his lover’s body under the covers. Gods, that bandage looked so pale against Orlando’s deeply bronzed flesh. Allowing himself a second of weakness Aragorn sat on the bed, leaned over and kissed his lover’s lips.
Húrin waited in the doorway. A mental chant of “please do not send me to Mt. Ethring” pounded in his mind. Yes, the guard wished he had been on duty somewhere else today. He wasn’t exactly sure what had happened and frankly he did not want to know.
Aragorn turned his piecing light gaze upon the obviously unsettled guard and contemplated what to do about him. Yes, talk about being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Still, to do anything rash would be an insult to Húrin’s loyal service and indeed brand Aragorn a tyrant. “ Húrin, I think you also need a holiday. I have decided that you can accompany Healer Glinden on her journey and relax at Ithilien. I want you to travel quickly as possible; I also need you to send a message to Legolas for me.”
“Yes, Sire.”
Aragorn sought out Húrin’s mood. “You were probably already told by Halbarad that...”
The poor guard nodded his head in vigorous affirmation. “Oh yes Sire. I was in the corridor and... and... Orlando tripped while entering Lord Halbarad’s office and hit his head. His accident startled Lord Halbarad so badly that the Lord slashed himself with erm... he....”
Aragorn supplied a hard little smile and quietly coaxed Húrin along. “He ripped open his arm with his own letter opener.”
“Yes, Sire. A freak accident. Most strange.” He bowed low.
“You have all the makings of a general, lad. Let me...” After he rose from the bed Aragorn swiftly penned orders, melted wax and applied his seal. “There. Enjoy a safe and pleasant journey with the Healer.”
“Yes, Sire.” Another bow.
“You may... damn, wait.” Turning back to his small corner desk Aragorn hastily penned another letter and sealed it. “For Legolas. Make sure you deliver it directly into his hands, understand?”
A completely befuddled Húrin bowed yet again and hastened from the chamber. Yes, a vacation sounded perfect. Court life suddenly felt confusing and dangerous.
Aragorn wearily sunk to the bed and caressed Orlando’s cheek. “I pray to Ilúvatar that you come back to me. I pray that Legolas can still make haste. I fear only he can help you.” Tears finally welled in Aragorn’s eyes. “My lover, you were healed. I had healed you. Now my son...” A sharp unclean rage built in Aragorn’s soul until his breath emerged in sharp hard pants. “Son, ahh, what am I going to do with you? A few well-placed orders won’t solve your hatred.”
Alarm shot through the King. Blast! The folder! Aragorn kissed Orlando’s cheek then he strode toward the outer door. No, wait... change the bloodied tunic. Once in a clean tunic Aragorn nearly ran from his suite. The returned to duty guards stared in amazement.
He met Halbarad and Glinden in the lower corridor. Relief filled his heart; Halbarad held the folder in his uninjured hand. A crooked smirk curled his lips. “Looking for this, Sire?”
“Yes, I am, old friend.” They walked in a dismal silence. Once Halbarad entered the sitting room Aragorn dredged up a tight smile for the wide-eyed Glinden. “Young Húrin has the orders for your vacation. He’ll await you at the palace guard barracks so you can meet him after you gather your belongings. I hope you enjoy a marvelous learning experience.”
“Yes, Sire.” The petite young Healer scurried away. Glinden hated politics. Perhaps she’d remain with the Elves for months. She had a feeling the King wouldn’t mind her request at all. Perhaps she’d never return.
Halbarad followed Aragorn into the bedchamber. After collapsing into a chair he accepted a goblet of wine from Aragorn. “So... I must say I never in all my long years ever expected to see the revered King Aragorn Elessar break so many rules. And I never expected to see myself go along with you. But I know you truly do love Orlando because you have also gone mad. You love him to the point of jeopardizing your own rule and alienating your family.” Halbarad slowly shook his head. “In a strange way I envy you, old friend. You have the knack for finding love. But this time I fear this love is... tainted. Keeping guards and a timid Healer silent is easy. But what about your son? You know he will not let this matter rest.”
Aragorn resumed his perch on the bed and returned to stroking Orlando’s long hair. “My son... it’s hard to believe that my own son wants to injure me so badly. I fear it never once entered his closed mind that I love Orlando. And I do not tolerate attacks against those I love.”
“One thing is certain; Orlando cannot remain in the guards. Once this information emerges there will be such an outcry that...”
A gentle yet urgent knock sounded on the outer door. Aragorn recognized that knock ; Arwen. “Oh Gods no... I...Arwen was just entering the nursery when I was called away. She...” No use in denying her admittance; this matter involved her just as fiercely. Aragorn rose from the bed and called into the sitting room. “Come in, my wife.”
Arwen entered the bedroom and halted. A gasp escaped her mouth before she pressed her elegant fingers against her lips. “By the Valar what has happened here?” Her concerned eyes swept across Orlando lying prone in the bed and Halbarad seated with a bloodied tunic and bandages on his arm.
As an unsettled silence grew into an overgrown thicket Arwen gazed at her husband. “Aragorn?”
A defeated moan crept from Aragorn’s throat. Blast, Aragorn had never lied to his wife and today was not the day to start. Yet he feared her reaction. Gods, he wished he could banish this tragic day. “Arwen, I... let me try and say this as concisely as possible. Actually I must bring up something to preface this tragedy. Our son Eldarion hates my lovers. A year ago he caught me... in a compromising position and he’s resented me ever since. He thinks I am hurting you. This time he turned his resentment into action and obviously sent agents into Harad to gather information on Orlando. He discovered that Orlando is... Arieft Bloomahir’s son.” Arwen’s sickened gasp punctuated Aragorn’s words.
The Queen’s sadness filled the room. “No. This beautiful, harmless young man is the Harad butcher’s son? Oh how terrible for him. How tragic. No wonder he wanted to dismiss his past.”
The distraught King gazed at his compassionate Queen. His deep love for her made him want to drop to his knees and beg for her sweet forgiveness. “My dear, thank you for understanding that detail. There are many other horrible aspects of Orlando’s life that he has told me... his father tortured him, slaughtered Orlando’s mother as he watched and sold him into slavery.” Deep breath. He didn’t like how tight his heart still felt. “I have been mentally healing Orlando by listening to what he has endured. When he tells me something it’s as if a mental wound becomes cauterized. He feels the pain of memory but my acceptance of his life has helped him cope. Today when Halbarad presented Orlando with my son’s wretched research Orlando’s mind snapped and he attacked Halbarad. I can only imagine he felt like his life here was destroyed.”
Once Aragorn fell silent Arwen cocked her beautiful head and gazed intently at her husband. “Is it?”
Aragorn met her gaze and offered a pained smile. “No. Never. I will not forsake Orlando.” He halted himself from saying “because I love him too much.”
The watching Halbarad shook his head. “And that brings us to the main problem. Eldarion left me a note telling me to deal with this disgusting problem. I confess I handled it badly but I never expected Orlando to... react so desperately. Aragorn left out a main detail; we think Orlando attacked me because I remind him of his father.”
“I see. So Eldarion knows this damaging information. We all know my stubborn son... well...” Arwen continued gazing at Aragorn. “Did you know your son went on a hunting trip today? I questioned why he ventured forth in such wretched weather but...”
Halbarad released a soft snarl. “No doubt he wanted to escape the nasty aftermath. He throws his dirty work to me then flees. And he’s our next King? Bah.”
Both Arwen and Aragorn stared at Halbarad. The old advisor thought their pointed stares might skewer him. “Don’t give me those looks. You’ve spoiled the lad. He thinks he can do as he wishes and I think this potential political mess proves that detail.”
Aragorn reached up and grasped Arwen’s fingers. “We never thought that bringing our firstborn up with unconditional love would turn him cruel. He’s young and headstrong so I hardly think this reflects on his ability to rule. Please, Halbarad, I’m not abdicating anytime soon.”
“Nor do I want you to, my husband.” After Arwen caressed Aragorn’s hair she walked to the bed’s opposite side and, to Aragorn’s amazement, placed her fingers on Orlando’s cheek and concentrated. She instantly drew back and clutched her fingers against her breasts. The negative energy welling up in this boy shocked her. It nearly felt life threatening. Her fingers returned to his cool flesh. Concentrate. Connect... aiii!
As the men watched in awe Arwen shivered in dismay. Words tumbled free from her full lips. “Turmoil. Great, soul-crushing turmoil. He’s hiding from us. Doesn’t want to awaken. He won’t awaken but he must. His soul is... dying. He’s...” Arwen shut her wide blue eyes and rested both hands on Orlando’s cheeks. Her words died away to faded Elven murmurs. A pained moan. Her entire body shook then she jerked away from Orlando’s face.
Orlando released a tormented scream.
“Orlando, shh, you are all right. Shh. Be calm; you are safe.” Arwen tenderly fluttered her long fingers over his cheeks.
A baffled Orlando looked up and choked in confusion. “My... Queen? But... I felt you... call to me yes, you...I was... surrounded by darkness. So dark. So very dark.”
“You needed my healing so I offered it freely. I know how much my husband... loves you.” Arwen darted a gentle smile toward her startled husband. “Aragorn, you know you can’t hide these emotions from the daughter of Elrond.”
The King suddenly felt like a craven coward. “I... didn’t want to hurt you, my wife. I...”
“You do not hurt me. Only by shutting me out of your life or abusing your children would you hurt me. You shall never do that to me so...” As she toyed with her long sleeves Arwen shook her head and walked around to Aragorn. “Now forgive me but I think I must rest. I haven’t performed such a dramatic thing in years. I forgot how draining a soul touch could be, yes, especially now that I am... less then my true self.”
Orlando could barely comprehend what just happened. He managed to gasp out words. “My Queen... you are... truly one of the heavenly spirits.”
“Nay, just a female with a few mental healing tricks still tucked away.” After kissing Aragorn Arwen turned and fled from the chamber. She never wanted to feel something that lethal ever again. Yet Arwen knew when her Aragorn passed on... yes, now she knew what to expect. A bleak crushing blackness sweeping into an endless cave of despair.
The concept frightened Arwen’s soul. Yes, this was one of the few times she wished she could still speak with her dear Father. She wished she could see her noble Father again, yes, rest in his study holding his strong hand while listening to his wise advice.
Never again. Arwen had ignored his last advice. As she paced along the corridor tears filled her eyes. She kept her sobs locked away until she reached the nursery. Then to the shock of the watching nanny Arwen gathered up her baby daughters, curled in the window seat and quietly wept. Yes, sometimes the enormity of what she had chosen overwhelmed her mind. For some reason connecting with another’s damaged soul broke her reserve down. Arwen never wanted to feel that level of soul pain but...that was her future. But how could Orlando withstand such pain? Horrible. Arwen wished she could help more but she hadn’t the power. Just coaxing him back nearly drained her mind.
Yes, someone far stronger was needed to cure that wounded lad.
As she viewed the gray-tinged world through a tear blur the Queen wondered how anyone would survive this situation without sacrificing something vital.