"The Hands of the King are the Hands of a Healer"
Darkness was all Miril was experiencing. A profound, palpable darkness that crept into her throat and stopped her from speaking. It made it hard to breathe, hard to think. Where was she? Who was she? What was she?
Aragorn closed his eyes. He was exhausted. But he would not lose both Halbarad and Miril in the same day. He had a chance to save one of them. He would take it.
She felt cold fingers around her neck. They threatened to crush her throat. A chill spread down her throat to her chest and lungs and heart. She felt like snow was being packed around her. She felt like ice was being forced down her throat. What was happening to her?
Aragorn placed a hand on her forehead and the other on her chest just below her throat. He said some prayers and strove with the darkness deep within his friend. He felt the chill, felt the blackness like tar clouding her vision and her breathing.
"Miril!"
She thought she heard a cry, someone familiar calling her name, calling her back. But she could not place it. She was still unable to speak, even in her mind. She was restrained by the chill darkness. It grabbed her and threatened to pull her down into oblivion. What was going on?
Aragorn looked inside her mind and tried to reach his friend. She was fading quickly. Miril had very little time left. Few survived direct contact with a wraith, especially one of the Nine. But he tried again.
"Miril! It is Aragorn!"
Aragorn! That was a name she knew. Something deep inside her brightened up. Aragorn. That name had meaning. That name was familiar. What was that name?
Aragorn could tell he was getting closer to her. She hadn't responded audibly, but the darkness had lifted ever so slightly at the name he'd spoken. He kept trying.
"Miril!"
She knew that name! That was her name! And she knew the other name as well...
"Aragorn?"
Aragorn breathed a sigh of relief as the darkness lifted from her. The chill he could feel was slowly warming, and the cloud over her vision and thought was dispersing. He knew one last thing to help her.
"Auta í lómë, aurë entuluva!"
Aragorn sat back as Miril gasped for breath, though her eyes were still closed. She coughed a sputtered as of one who was drowning and now comes above water. Elladan and Elrohir, Imrahil, and Ioreth the healer all breathed a sigh of relief. Aragorn was exhausted now. He could do no more for any of his patients today.
"I'm going back out to where the Rohirrim and Dunedain are setting camp," Aragorn whispered to Elladan and Elohir. "You are welcome to stay if you wish."
"I shall," Elrohir said immediately.
Elladan nodded. "I will as well."
"Prince Imrahil, please take command of the city. With Denethor dead and Faramir incapacitated, you are next in line," Aragorn told the Prince of Dol Amroth.
Imrahil bowed. "Of course my Lord."
Both men left the Houses of Healing then. The half-elven twins sat next to each other on an empty cot. Beside Miril were three other persons. First was Merry Brandybuck, one of the hobbits of the Fellowship. Next to him was Eowyn, sister of Éomer. Finally there was a man neither twin had ever met. He had light brown hair in curls down to his shoulders. He looked peaceful as he rested.
"At least the color is returning to her face," Elrohir remarked as he looked at Miril. "What was she thinking, taking on a Nazgûl and his Fellbeast, on her own, after hours and hours of fighting?"
Elladan sighed and shrugged. "She is too rash. I fear it was the death of Halbarad that caused her to lose all her senses."
"It was foolish," Elrohir muttered. "Did she mean to get herself killed?"
Elladan didn't answer at first but finally spoke. "I do not think so. But she forgot that she was important, I would say. She forgot people cared. She was so overcome with anger and rage that all thought of love left her mind."
Suddenly a man in white entered the room. It was Gandalf and behind him went Pippin. They walked over quickly.
"Is Merry alright?" Pippin asked immediately, before seeing that Miril was injured as well. "Miril's here, too?"
Gandalf looked surprised. "Miril? What happened to her. I did not see it."
"Khamul, second of the nine, laid hands on her," Elladan explained. "They sparred for awhile before he managed to catch her. But my brother vanquished him with Galmegil."
Gandalf nodded and caught sight of the sword in Elrohir's belt. "She will want it back."
Elrohir huffed. "She does not deserve it back if she is going to be so foolish all the time. She's going to get herself killed, Mithrandir. You know it as much as I."
"Perhaps," Gandalf nodded. "But that is not for us to hinder. It is her destiny, whatever happens."
"Who is the other, Mithrandir?" asked Elladan. "The man on the end?"
"Faramir, now Steward of Gondor," the wizard replied. "Do not fret, sons of Elrond. The sick should awaken soon enough. Stay with them. I will send for Éomer for he should be here when his sister wakens."
Gandalf turned to where a young boy, twelve years old maybe, sat watching them. "Bergil! Find Lord Éomer and bring him to the Houses."
"Of course, my Lord!" He leapt up and ran out the door.
It was Merry who woke first. Pippin was there at his side and they spoke for awhile of many things. Aragorn, eager to make sure his work was coming to fruition, arrived alongside Éomer once more, not long after.
Éowyn was next. She and her brother spoke long about why she had come and what had befallen their uncle, Théoden. They thanked Aragorn, too, for his healing.
Finally Miril began to move. Her finger's twitched, and she reached out on her bed. The Twins were there before a moment's notice. Aragorn, too, quickly came beside her as she slowly opened her eyes.
"...Ada?" she whispered slowly, incoherently.
All that understood the elvish she had spoken went silent in sadness. For Adar was the elvish word for "father". But he's was gone.
She looked around more quickly, and her eyes rested on Elladan, Elrohir, and Aragorn. She realized then why they were silent.
"Alas," she murmured. "He is gone. I had forgotten."
"But you are not!" Elrohir reminded her, grabbing her hand. "You foolish woman."
Aragorn knelt beside her and felt her brow. It was warm, but in a healthy way. It was no longer chilled. He nodded in satisfaction.
"Where am I?" she asked, trying to sit up.
Elladan helped her sit as Gandalf, coming over, answered her question. "You are in Minas Tirith's Houses of Healing. Aragorn has healed you of the Shadow."
"Oh. So that is what happened," she muttered. "All I remember is blackness, and a freezing chill. Also, a hand around my throat."
And so the Twins filled her in on what had happened as they sat there in the Houses of Healing. Aragorn, after embracing his adopted niece, left them again followed by Gandalf and Éomer. Eowyn and Merry had both fallen back asleep, but Pippin insisted on hearing what had befallen them in battle so he stayed behind.