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

I am so lated in the world that I

Have lost my way for ever.

Shakespeare- Antony and Cleopatra 3.11

Failure, then, failure! so the world stamps us at every turn.- William James

The idea of Aragorn in the snow was inspired by Nightwing's gripping story “To see a World" and is used with her kind permission.

Warning - This Chapter contains extreme angst, which may distress sensitive readers.

Faramir stirred uneasily in dark dreams. He was standing over Aragorn's lifeless body. The sightless eyes seemed to stare at him in silent accusation. Then Hanna appeared, brandishing a carving knife and waving it in the direction of a very delicate portion of the Steward’s anatomy, while Dervorin urged her to strike. Behind him, Fosco and his servant, now reduced to grinning skeletons mocked him. Suddenly Denethor appeared crying, ‘You failed, you always will fail! Why did Boromir have to die and not you? What use were you to that upstart you allowed to supplant our House? You failed him too!’ A scream rose in Faramir’s throat but he found himself unable to make a sound.

“Uncle Faramir, wake up!”

He awoke with a start to find Elbeth shaking him. The candle had burned low and the fire was little more than glowing embers. He realised that he must have slept for hours. How could he have been so remiss? It was small wonder that he had been plagued by evil dreams!

He blinked and yawned while he tried to force himself to full wakefulness. Throwing some fresh logs on the fire, he coaxed it back to life then fumbled to light a fresh candle from it.

“Uncle Faramir, Strider has gone!” Elbeth announced.

“What?” Faramir exclaimed in horror, “Is he dead? Oh, no!”

“He’s not dead, he’s gone!” Elbeth said impatiently.

Leaping to his feet, Faramir looked around and then ran to check the outer cave. Elbeth was correct. There was no sign of Aragorn.

“When did he go?” he asked her urgently, gazing wildly at the mouth of the cave. It was dark outside and snowing again heavily enough to obscure any footprints.

“I don’t know,” she replied, “I got bored making snowballs and came back in and found both you and Strider asleep. I fell asleep too for there was no one to talk to and when I woke up he had gone.”

“No!” groaned Faramir, snatching up his cloak. He could only surmise that Aragorn; delirious and confused, had somehow, using his phenomenal force of will, managed to leave the cave, either in an attempt to cool his fever or a desire to answer a call of nature in private. But how could a wounded and feverish man, wearing only a thin linen shirt and drawers, survive outside in conditions like these?

As Aragorn had obviously been gone long enough for the snow to cover his tracks, it seemed there was little chance of finding him alive.

“What has happened to Strider? Are you going to find him? Can I come too?” Elbeth’s torrent of questions exhausted, she burst into tears.

Faramir knelt and put his arm around the distraught child, trying to conceal his own fears from her. "I think he has gone outside and got lost in the snow. I need to go and look for him,” he told her. ”I have a very important task for you while I am gone. I need you to keep the fire well stoked and a pan of water boiling. Do you think you can do that?”

Elbeth nodded and dried her tears on her sleeve.

“I will be back as soon as I can,” Faramir told her, getting to his feet. He took a torch and lit it as he spoke, “Stay here and do not try to follow me. If you are hungry, there is dried meat and fruit in the sack next to the potatoes.”

“Don’t be long, Uncle Faramir, “ she pleaded, “I'm scared on my own and I want Strider back!”

“You should be quite safe here,” he reassured her. “I shall try to find Strider for you!”

***

“Estel, no, no!”Arwen woke herself by crying out.

“Whatever is the matter?” …owyn exclaimed, roused from sleep by her friend's cries.

“It is Estel. He is dying!” Arwen announced bleakly, “I can sense his life force growing weaker.”

“You cannot know that for certain. Maybe it was just an evil dream?” …owyn said, trying to soothe the Queen. She found the mental abilities of Elves and Numenoreans highly disconcerting. Arwen's dreams had become increasingly disturbing over the past week. The Queen was growing increasingly worried about her husband. Eowyn had been fretting that Faramir might be in danger too.

Since Damrod had brought them to this isolated farmhouse to stay with his sister, they had been isolated from the outside world. The young Captain dared not visit often. When he did, he could tell them little, save that Faramir was the talk of the City for his increasingly outrageous comments made in the Council Chamber. The two women could only hope that Faramir's plan was working. Arwen had never wavered in her steadfast belief that her husband was alive though, until now.

“It was no dream! He is dying!” Arwen insisted.

…owyn placed a comforting arm around the Queen and could feel her trembling violently beneath her touch. “You must be strong. Reach out to him with your love!” she counselled, though having no idea if such a thing were possible.

As if he too sensed something was wrong, Eldarion began to wail in obvious distress.

“I will try,” Arwen said tearfully, reaching to take her child from his cradle.

…owyn could only watch and hope as the Queen soothed her son and then sat with a look of intense concentration upon her face. She seemed no longer aware of her surroundings. It seemed almost, as if she wandered in some distant realm, seeking for one who was lost.

***

Faramir hastened out into the freezing night wondering if it were possible to fulfil either of Elbeth’s requests. Why did the weather have to be so unseasonably cold? It was almost as if the Valar were conspiring against them! Faramir thought bitterly, wondering which direction he should take.

He debated whether or not to call Zachus. Eventually he decided against searching on horseback, lest he should miss some vital clue on the ground.

A careful search of the idea area surrounding the cave mouth revealed nothing. The snow started to fall more heavily, making his task even harder.

He debated which direction to look in first before deciding the stream would be Aragorn’s most likely choice of destination. He had been plagued by thirst and would hear the sound of running water and follow it.

Slipping and sliding on the snow, the Steward made his way down to the water's edge, dreading what he might find. Trying to stop his hand from shaking, he swept the torch over the shallow water but there was no sign of Aragorn. Nor could he see anything, which suggested that his worse fears had been realised. Although relieved his King had not drowned, he had hoped against hope maybe he would discover him there still alive and trying to shelter on the bank.

The only other place he could be, was in the forest, where finding him these conditions would be extremely difficult, if not impossible. He could not have got far, though, being hardly able to walk.

A flash of inspiration hit him. “Roheryn!” he called, hoping that the horse’s bond with his master might help him find Aragorn.

There was no answer. He called again more loudly. The snow seemed to muffle his voice. Then he heard a soft whinnying. He raised the torch to behold Aragorn’s stallion carefully picking his way amongst the trees.

Roheryn’s soft nose urgently nuzzled his arm as if trying to persuade him to follow him. Without hesitation he did so, trying not to lose sight of the horse as he made his way towards him.

“Whatever dark and feverish dreams had caused Aragorn to wander out in conditions like this?' he mused. A dreadful thought struck him; that the King might be so afraid of him that he had sought to escape before he could inflict any further tortures upon his pain racked body. No doubt, he still feared that Faramir was part of the conspiracy to try to force him to sign the document, which would put Arwen and Eldarion in danger!

Faramir stumbled on through the snow, now clutching at Roheryn’s mane to help him keep his balance on the slippery ground. He let the horse lead him though the trees until they came to a clearing.

He looked around puzzled as to why the stallion had brought him here. There was nothing to see but the ghostly shapes of the trees, stretching as far as the eye could see.

What looked like an upturned log almost escaped his attention, until Roheryn broke away from him and stood over the still form, neighing wildly and nuzzling it gently.

Stumbling and sliding as he ran, Faramir finally reached his goal. He fell on his knees beside the still form of his King. He could not have been there very long as his features were almost devoid of falling snow. However, he was bitterly cold to the touch and did not stir as Faramir called his name. “Aragorn, mellon nin, can you hear me?”

Nothing broke the oppressive silence of the snow clad forest. Even Roheryn had stopped snorting and seemed to be holding his breath in anticipation.

Thrusting the torch in the snow beside him, the Steward felt for a pulse but could find none. He then thrust his hand inside the thin shirt in search of a heartbeat but his questing fingers met only with icy and lifeless seeming flesh.

“No, you cannot die!” he cried in anguish, “You cannot! I love you too much! You were the father I longed for, the brother I lost and the King we all yearned for! Do not leave me now! What of Arwen and Eldarion? “ He bent and kissed the icy brow in farewell, devastated that all his efforts to save his King had been for nought.

He could hardly believe it. That it should come to this, the King of Gondor and Arnor frozen to death in the forest like some hapless beggar!

Unreasonable anger welled up within him. He had lied, been disowned by his beloved uncle and become a traitor and a torturer. He had killed in cold blood. He had sent good men to their deaths and all for nothing! Aragorn had been slowly growing stronger; but instead of using his Numenorean vitality to recover; he had decided instead to come out here to die.

Faramir shook the limp form beside him furiously; before remembering that most likely the King had chosen such a course of action because of him. He laid him down reverently again for a moment. Then fiercely clasped him in his arms and wept bitterly, each sob, a howl of bitter anguish shattering the forest stillness.

He was sorely tempted to lie down and die beside his King, knowing that his own cruel deeds had beyond doubt, driven his lord to his lonely death. How could he tell Arwen of her husband’s fate? How could he tell …owyn that he had failed and how low her husband had sunk?

Then, he knew that however painful it might be, he must try to return safely to his wife and child. He could not abandon Elbeth alone in the wilderness. He doubted not though, that soon his heart would break and he would follow his lord beyond the circles of the world.

TBC