To Capture the Heart of a Warrior

Chapter eighteen: Light and Shadow






At last the bandages were off. Pippin sat in the golden afternoon sun in a small garden adjoining the House of Healing and watched as Faramir sat with Eowyn, their heads close together. It was obvious they were in love. Pippin sighed. ‘Lucky lady,’ he thought, ‘at least one of us has a son of Denethor. I wish I still had mine. Will I always feel this empty, I wonder? Faramir has been so good to me, but I still miss him, my acushla. I will always miss him. I’m sure I shall never love again, for Boromir has all my heart still, wherever he is.’

“You’re thinking of him again, aren’t you Pippin?” Merry asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid I am. I will think of him always, Merry.”

“I know. I miss him, too, you know.”

“I know.” Pippin took Merry’s hand and let Merry walk him back to his bed.

“Thank you for coming, Merry. I’m so glad you’re getting better. You gave me such a fright. Never do that again, Merry. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

“And don’t you go throwing yourself under any more trolls just to get attention, Pip. I don’t know what I would do without you, either. You look tired. Are you resting well?”

“Some. That poor chap in the next bed; he has terrible nightmares. I’m surprised he still lives, Merry. I stole a look at him. It’s awful, what they did to him. I’ve never seen anyone beaten so badly, Merry, or so starved. They said he was filthy when they found him.”

“Oh, Pippin! How can people be so cruel?”

“I don’t know, Merry. I do not understand such cruelty. They had to shave his head and beard, for he was full of lice and fleas. They did awful things to him, Merry, just awful things, things that don’t bear repeating. I feel so sorry for him. He cannot speak or see. His face is all black and blue and swollen, and his jaw is broken. Aragorn said they had this awful metal gag on him that broke his jaw. It’s something they use for torture. And then they sewed his mouth shut, so he couldn’t even eat an insect to keep himself from starving.”

“Pippin, listen, dearest, I think you should not become entangled with the poor thing. If he dies, and he could, it will only break your heart.”

“Merry?”

“Yes, Pip?”

“Listen… they killed Boromir, right in front of us. I can’t bring him back, Merry. But I want to help care for some of the wounded. Perhaps it will help. I can’t bring Boromir back, but I could help some of his people.”

“Perhaps that would do your heart good, Pippin. He would be very proud of you, you know. You’ve done so much that would make him proud enough to split his mail shirt. You’ve done enough to make him so proud of you, as I am proud of you, my brave little Pippin, but if helping tend the wounded will help you heal your own wounds, then perhaps you should do so.”

“I thought you would understand.” Pippin hugged Merry so tight Merry grunted.

“Now, get a little sleep. You have shadows under your eyes.”

“I have a shadow on my heart, too, Merry. But if I help, perhaps the shadow will fade a little.”

“I’m sure you are right. Rest, now, my dear ass, or you won’t be able to help anyone.”

“You should rest, too, Merry. You still don’t look so good.”

“I don’t quite feel like myself just yet, but we shall heal, you and I. We shall grow old together and drive all the youngsters to distraction with tales of our adventures. But before we can do that, we must get well. To bed with you, now, and I shall do the same.”

“I suppose it is a good thing they have kept us separated,” Pippin sighed, “else we should keep each other up too much. Still, I do miss you.”

“And I miss you too, you little fool. Now get into bed.”

Pippin meekly obeyed. He was used to Merry ordering him around. Merry had looked after him all his life. He watched Merry walk away, then curled into a little ball like a kitten and slept.

He had been having a wonderful dream, such a lovely dream, a dream of Boromir and himself lying under the stars, his head pillowed on Boromir’s broad shoulder as Boromir whispered to him, calling him “poppet” once more, but he was wakened by a soft moan. He lifted his head from his pillow and listened. Another moan. Pippin climbed down from the bed and followed the sound.

It was the poor wretched creature in the next bed. Pippin crept around the screen, steeling himself for the effect which looking at this pitiful fellow would have on him. The man was still painfully thin, but was starting to fill out a little. His black and blue face was still horribly swollen. Some of the bruises had faded, leaving yellow and green blotches. His eyes were swollen shut. His arms were out as though he was feeling his way in the dark.

“Poor thing,” Pippin said, “You cannot see, my dear Man, your eyes are swollen shut. Hush, hush, now. You are not in that awful place anymore. If you are from Gondor, you’re home; you’re in Minas Tirith.”

“Ho-o-ome.” said the poor creature.

“This is your home, then?”

“Ho-ome.” It was more a whimper than anything.

“Ssh, ssh, you’re alright, now. You’re home. Be still, now, I’ll be right back.”

Pippin went to the door as quickly as he could with his still-sore legs and stuck his head out of the door. “Nurse!” he called. “Nurse, quickly, now! Lord Aragorn has given orders that he should be called if that pitiful fellow spoke. He is speaking, now, but not much. Send for the Lord Aragorn, now!”

The drudge scurried off to do his bidding. She had heard of the Ernil i Pheriannath, the Prince of Halflings, and knew she must obey him, and with a nod of respect, she had flown down the corridor, leaving Pippin to return to the wounded one.

Pippin went back to his bedside and took a thin hand in his small one, stroking it gently. Poor thing, how he had lived was a mystery, to be sure.

“Are you thirsty?” asked Pippin.

“Aye.” Again, more a whimper than anything else.

Pippin went to his own bedside and poured a cup of water into his cup and took it to the Man. He put cup to mouth and the Man sipped slowly and swallowed.

“Can you tell me your name?” Pippin asked.

“Ah… ah…” he whimpered. He seemed frustrated. He tried again. “Ah… ah… don’t remember…”

“You poor thing. I do not know and cannot imagine what you have suffered, but your suffering is soon at an end. You are home, now. You must have a name. Since you can’t remember yours, I shall give you a new one until you can remember. Not Boromir, though. Not that.”

“Bo-ro-mir.”

“Yes, Boromir. You knew him?”

“Aye… Bo-ro-mir.”

“Yes, yes, dear old thing, Boromir. He was a great man. I knew him well. I loved him very much. If you knew him, then you must have loved him, too.”

The poor wretch began to weep.

“You did not know he has been slain, I suppose. I am sorry I told you. You have enough sorrow and pain to deal with, I should not have said anything.”

“Ah… ah…” he said.

“I know, I know. You will remember your name soon enough. Well, I suppose that I could call you Acushla.”

“Ah… cush… la…”

“Do you like that alright? Will it do until you remember who you are?”

“Aye.” He whimpered, then began to weep again.

“Now, now. Do not fear! I cannot help my Boromir, but I can help you. Yes, Acushla. I will look out for you. I’ll do it because you knew him. Did you know him well?”

“Aye.”

“All the more reason for me to take care of you.” Pippin said.

Aragorn strode into the room on his long legs and came to the bedside.

“Lord Aragorn is here. He will help you. The hands of the King are the hands of a healer.”

“Ki-ing.”

“Yes. He is to be king. The King has returned, my dear fellow. King Elessar, they call him, though I much prefer Strider.”

“S-stri-der.”

“Yes; he is here. I shall let him tend you now. I’ll be here if you need me. Just call me. You may call me Pippin, or even Pip.

“Pip-pin.”

“Yes, that’s right. Pippin.” Pippin patted his shoulder, and was shocked at how the bones protruded. “I’m going back to bed, now. Just call out if you need me.”

“N-need you.”

“Yes, that’s right. Let’s let the Lord Aragorn tend you, now.”

“Aye.”

“Good rest to you, sir. You are home at last. We will make you better soon. Be at peace.”

“Aye.”

Aragorn then took over, examining this pitiful thing. Pippin went back to bed. He felt better already. If he couldn’t help Boromir, then he would help this Man. Perhaps this would cast the pall from Pippin’s heart.

To Be Continued