lindahoyland (lindahoyland) wrote,
lindahoyland
lindahoyland

Night Terrors

B2MeM Prompt and Path:“And now that you don’t have to be perfect, you can be good.” John Steinbeck. Purple Path;

Format: Short Story

Genre: Angst, friendship, hurt/comfort

Rating: PG

Warnings: None

Characters: Aragorn, Faramir , Sam, Rose.

Pairings: Aragorn/Arwen, Sam/Rose

Creator’s Notes (optional): The story is set before the ban on Men entering the Shire.

Summary: Aragorn and Faramir discover all is not as well as it seems in the Shire.
Back to Middle-earth Month 2017--Night and Day

“So what do you think of the Shire, Faramir?”

“I like it. It is as green and fertile as Ithilien. I just wish the beds were a little larger, though.”

“So do I,” Aragorn debated whether to stretch out his legs which meant his toes would hang over the bed, or curling them beneath the covers and risking cramp. He and Faramir had been paying a brief visit to Éomer on an important matter of state and were now visiting the Shire or their way home. They were staying at Bag End as Bilbo had had a special room constructed for Gandalf, which was furnished with a man sized bed and chair. It was proving rather cramped for the two former Rangers, though. However, they were weary after a day of travelling and soon fell asleep.

Aragorn was lost in a pleasant dream that he was beside Arwen in his own bed and when he kissed her lips they smelled like rose petals bathed in the first morning dew.

A loud shriek rudely awakened him. He sat bolt upright and looked around the room. It was pitch dark apart from a low burning candle on the nightstand.

“Whatever was that?” Faramir asked, clambering out of bed and reaching for his sword.

“It came from Sam and Rose’s chamber,” said Aragorn. He strained his ears, listening. He heard another cry then the soft murmur of Rose’s voice. “I hope Sam is not ill,” he said. He got out of bed and pulled on his robe over his night attire.

Making his way to Sam and Rose’s chamber, he tapped on the door. “I heard a cry, is aught wrong?” he called.

After a moment, the door opened and Sam’s head appeared. “Sorry you were disturbed, Strider. The baby gets restless when teething. All will be right as rain come morning.”

“Is there any way I can aid you?” asked Aragorn.

“Thanking you, Strider, but Rose and I can manage.”

Aragorn could do nothing but bid the Hobbit goodnight and return to his room where he told Faramir what Sam had said.

“If that was a teething baby we heard I am the Kha Khan of Harad!” said Faramir.

“I agree with you, but I cannot force Sam to tell me what is wrong,” said Aragorn, pulling off his robe. “I suggest we try to sleep and see what we can learn on the morrow.”

000

Faramir gasped at the size of the breakfast Rose had prepared. There looked sufficient to feed at least a dozen. The platters were piled high with thick crusty bread, creamy butter, cheeses, sausages, eggs, bacon and crocks of several different varieties of preserves.

“A Hobbit spread more than fit for this King,” said Aragorn as he piled his plate high. “So how are things in the Shire, Sam?”

“Well enough save for all the big folk who come here to gawp at us,” said the Gardener. “I was planting taters not long ago and a group of them just came and stood there staring as if they were watching a play or something. Things were way better when Men hadn’t heard of Hobbits, but apart from that the Shire is thriving and things are growing just as they ought to. You should see the new Party Tree grown from the Lady’s gift, Strider! If was as if she knew we would need her help!”

“Galadriel saw many things,” said Aragorn. “We shall not see her like again, I fear.”

“Eat up now,” said Rose. “I hope the food is to your satisfaction, sirs. You must be used to fine cooks preparing your vittles.”

“I have never tasted crustier bread or tastier eggs,” said Faramir. “Our cooks would have much to learn from you.”

“I’ve some goose eggs and a nice bit of chicken for second breakfast,” said Rose.

Sam cleared his plate and put down his knife and fork. “Beggin’ your pardon, Strider and Lord Faramir, but I need to water my herb patch before the sun gets too high. Are you coming to help your dad, Elanor?”

Sam left the table followed by his eldest child.

As soon as he had gone, Rose looked around somewhat furtively. “I was wondering if I could have a word, Mister Strider, in private like.

“Of course, Mistress Rose,” said Aragorn.

Faramir got to his feet.” I should like to take a walk round the village,” he said. ”I will see you later.” He left the room.

“What troubles you, Mistress Rose?” asked Aragorn as soon as Faramir had closed the door behind him.

Rose twisted her hands nervously. “Sam won’t like me saying anything, Mister Strider,”

“I shall not tell him,” said Aragorn. “You have my word.”

Rose continued to fidget. She then took a deep breath and said, “It’s the nightmares, you see, Mister Strider. They’ve troubled him something dreadful since Mister Frodo left. He won’t talk to me nor to Merry and Pippin for fear of bothering them. As you were in the Black Land too, I wondered if you help, you being a healer and all.”

Aragorn reached out and clasped her hand. “I shall certainly do all I can, Mistress Rose.”

Despite Rose’s protests, Aragorn insisted on helping her clear away the dishes. It was not long before Sam came in from the garden. He sent his little daughter to play.

“Would you take a walk with me, Sam?” asked Aragorn. “I should like to see the new Party Tree in the daylight.”

“I’d love to show it you,” said the Hobbit. “I’ll just get my hat and cloak.”

King and Hobbit strolled together through the village. It was yet early and few folk were abroad. Aragorn first encouraged Sam to talk of his family and his garden. Then he said “Do you ever suffer from nightmares about the war, Sam? I do and wondered if you did too?”

Sam flushed scarlet. “I’m sorry, Mister Strider, I shouldn’t have told you an untruth last night. I’m just so ashamed!”

“There is nothing to be ashamed of. It happens to almost all old soldiers including myself.”

Sam paused as if lost in thought. “Well, I reckon if it even happens to you too, maybe I can speak about it. I just feel so daft that I wake up crying and shrieking like a bairn. When I’ve so much to be thankful for what with Rose and the little ones and my garden and everything fair and growing and - ” He suddenly stifled a sob.

Aragorn reached out and took his hand and squeezed it gently. “When did this start, Sam? When you came back from Mordor?”

Sam shook his head. He sniffed loudly and blew his nose in his handkerchief. “No, things were alright until Mister Frodo left. I had to be strong for him, you see and we’d talk about things together. Now, though, almost every night, I have such dark dreams. That Mister Frodo is being tormented by orcs and I can’t save him or that Mount Doom is erupting and I’m choking in the ash and smoke. It’s horrible, Mister Strider, just horrible!”

“I know, Sam,” Aragorn said softly. “I have these dark dreams too as result of the war and other things that have happened to me.”

“You are strong, though, Mister Strider.”

“And so are you, Master Gamgee! Nightmares are the way the brain allows us to live normal lives during the day, as the bad thoughts have to come out. Don’t bottle it up, Sam. Talk to Rose, or if you feel you cannot, to Merry and Pippin. They will understand. Then remember, you can write to me anytime in complete confidence. I will give you my seal that no other is allowed to break”

“I feel I have to be strong for the young Hobbits.”

“You are good, Sam, you do not have to be perfect. I expect it would help Merry and Pippin to talk too.”

“You really think so?”

“I do.” They had reached the new Party Tree. Even after a few years’ growth, the young Mallorn looked strong and vigorous. They gazed at it in silence for a few minutes. Then Aragorn said, “ Do you grow athelas in your herb garden, Sam?”

“I do.”

“Then I suggest you crumble a leaf in hot water at bedtime and sleep with the mixture beside you. It makes the air more wholesome.”

“I will do that, Mister Strider.”

“I will do it tonight for you.”

“Thank you, Mister Strider. I feel lighter somehow talking to you.”

“Remember, Sam, I am your friend and you can always talk to me. Now we had better get back, Mistress Rose will be waiting for us with second breakfast.”

The morning sun had reached Sam’s garden by the time King and Hobbit returned.
Tags: btmem 2017, short stories
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