Such a heavy load

The young lady dismounted, her expression grim. And then, Arod made something highly unusual. Instead of enjoying the little bit of greenish weeds that grew on the banks, he walked to Aragorn's body and nuzzled the side of his face.

— "Arod!"

But the horse was undeterred. Horrified, Frances came closer when mere seconds ago she dared not. She wanted his body undamaged, to offer Aragorn a decent burial; the last gift of a friend to another. As she arched against the horse to shoo him away, the ranger's chest heaved. Not so much, only the fraction of an inch. But enough for her to jump out of her skin. The blasted man was alive!

Astonished, Frances' hands trembled as she set her ear on his chest. Her mind refused to believe it. But his heart, beating faintly under the soaked shirt, confirmed otherwise. Aragorn really was alive! Had she not been so concerned, the young lady would have danced with joy. But so dire was the situation that she didn't take much time to think. Pushing the ranger to his side with a grunt, she was pleased to feel his muscles resist to her ministering. No water came out of his lungs; he had miraculously escaped drowning. There was no amount of words to express Frances' relief as she watched his chest raise and fall. It would have been very miserly indeed to find him alive only to lose him to pneumonia because of dry drowning.

Drained, Frances collapsed alongside Aragorn. The coarse sand and rocks were uncomfortable under her bottom, but she couldn't care less. The muscles were already numb from all the riding. Still, her mind was getting hazier than her body. They had come close, very close to losing the leader of their fellowship. She stayed motionless for a while as the idea sunk in, the sun continuing its course over the hills as she kept a hand on Aragorn's unconscious form. He breathed evenly, slowly, like a clock endlessly ticking until its spring broke.

In, and out. Frances concentrated on the slight movement of his chest until eventually the shock started to fade away, clearing her mind for the task at hand. Aragorn was hurt, but not as much as would be expected from a man tumbling down a cliff. The guy was lucky, or very well looked after. The ranger had yet to stir, giving her some time to fish out the first aid kit from her worn-out bag. Poor thing, there was not one spot of cloth unscathed from the terrible treatment it had to endure.

Pushing Aragorn back to his initial position, the young lady roamed her hands on the tall form, assessing if any bones had snapped during his fall. Relief washed over her as the ranger whimpered at her touch. Good or bad sign, she didn't know yet. Consciousness would come soon enough. Frances was no nurse, but she knew the basics of healing. The gash on his shoulder needed tending, and she set on working the bleeding wound the best she could.

Aragorn stirred several times while she cleansed it, awakened by the pain. Frances' eyebrows furrowed as she tried to apply a rough dressing over it. She couldn't bandage it lest she undressed Aragorn, and that was too difficult a task for the moment. They needed to clear the area and get to safety. And the man was so heavy. She could never remove the thousand layers of clothes and put them back without hurting him more, especially with him slouched in the sand.

— "Are you finished yet?", came a drowsy voice.

Frances started, her eyes meeting grey ones. She saw relief wash over the ranger's face as he realised that he was, at least temporary, safe and sound. His body relaxed in the sand, and he blinked.

Aragorn's view was blurry at best, but it didn't prevent him from recognising the young lady tending to his shoulder. And in truth, he had been healed by softer hands, although the inexperience was probably the reason for her trembling motions. The ranger sighed and waited for her to finish the dressing before trying to sit up.

— "Wowowo ! Let's take it slow buddy! You took quite a tumble."

A hand came to his chest, another one struggling to support his back. Aragorn groaned; his body hurt everywhere! Still, he didn't remember much. His feet were cold and wet, the rest not much warmer. Slowly, he started to shiver, the trembling difficult to withstand in his sore muscles. Cradled between Frances' frame and her right arm, the ranger grit his teeth. His promise to Gandalf would be hard to keep if he was frail as a baby. But his head swam, and his muscles didn't answer his commands. Frances draped her cloak around him in an attempt to warm him up, nearly losing her balance in the process.

— "Damn" she finally said, "you're just too heavy to eat normal food! How came you to be so dense?'

His mind still hazy, Aragorn gave her a strange look.

— "Sorry, that came out wrong."

She smiled, trying to call forth what was left of her optimism. Frances was tired, of course, and feeling much the aftermath of the battle. But still, she didn't want to push her luck by complaining. After all, much better to drag a strained ranger than a lifeless body. This quest, at least, had been more successful than the last. Arod, having eaten his fill, came closer. The steed was probably angsty to get back to a familiar place now it had found its rider.

— "Arod led me to you," said Frances.

The ranger's face lit up with gratitude.

— "Hannon le, mellon nin."

And then, he turned to Frances, realising that he had not thanked her at all.

— "And to you as well, I owe you my thanks."

The young lady dismissed his words with a shrug. But still, her eyes shone with contentment.

— "Yeah well, you saved my ass so very often than I owed you one. Do you think you can ride? I could mount with you and support you on the way?"

Aragorn slowly nodded. It would be quite a strain for her to handle his failing body, but there had no better solution at hand. And the lady was tougher than she looked. He would forever be in her debt for saving his life. Fortunately, the horse displayed the extend of his intelligence by kneeling down at his side. Frances' eyes widened. Never had she seen such a clever beast! The Rohirrim definitely had a close relationship with their horses.

Gently, she helped Aragorn on the saddle. He was swaying, and she had to hold him fast when Arod crawled on all fours. But at last, the ranger was installed on the stallion's back, and Frances reflected whether she should mount in front of him or behind. Eventually, she decided to climb behind him; if he lost consciousness, she could prevent him from falling and breaking his neck. After mounting clumsily beside the ranger, a feat she didn't think capable of, they left the bank.

Aragorn pointed her in the right direction since she could not extract the map in her backpack. Despite the situation, Arod walked at a fast a pace. The ranger seemed to doze off against Frances a few times on the way, his weight becoming heavier as they progressed. The young lady gritted her teeth and contracted her postural muscles to refrain from falling. Damn, having such a weight pushing you over the edge while riding was definitely the advanced level of horsemanship! Those muscles would probably be sore for days after using them with such intensity.

Eventually, Aragorn gained more control. After three hours or so of travelling, he was sitting much straighter on the saddle. Weary, but alert, the ranger took the reins back from Frances' hands and led the steed himself. In his mind turned so many things that it was hard to focus. Still, he finally managed to find his train of thought.

— "Let me renew my thanks to you for saving my life. I am in your debt."

Frances' hold tightened around his middle.

— "You're very welcome. I have, after all, only kept a promise I made to Arwen. And…"

The words caught in her throat. Suddenly, her eyes felt watery again. How could she possibly express the reason why she had left the Rohan party? A gentle squeeze on her arm reminded her that, notwhistanding the inability to see her, Aragorn was quite attuned to her sudden stiffness. A tear fell, quickly discarded by her tunic's sleeve.

— "What ails you, if I may be so bold to ask?"

Frances might have laughed from the formality of his tone had the subject not been so serious. Even half dead, the man didn't forget his manners. She knew, for one, that being in pain like his, most swear words would have been out by then. She breathed deeply before answering.

— "I left the rest of the company to retrieve your body. I wanted to give you a decent burial.

— "A very noble task indeed, but not an easy one"

There was a hint of uneasiness in his tone. Talking about one's own burial was probably unsettling. Frances remembered the day he had explained to her how Numernorean kings died across the campfire. It seemed ages ago. Before Caradhras, before the wargs, Moria and Lothlorien. Yet, she had kept this concept close to her heart. She wondered if, by her intervention, she had given him the chance to die by his calling instead of passing away in the icy fingers of the stream.

— "It was the least I could do after all you have done for me, after guiding us so steadily."

A heavy silence fell. Not one to be discarded by pleasantries. A silence so full of meaning that hours could have passed before they expressed all of it. But time was short, or so it seemed as they were reminded by distant "thuds" disturbing their wandering minds. Aragorn gave an affectionate squeeze to the woman's arm before turning his steed to the north, against the wind.

— "What is this noise?" she asked, her voice carried away by the breeze.

— "This is what I intend to discover."

And then, Arod was trotting faster, going uphill to gain some insight. The slope was steep enough for the horse to pant, and when at last it conquered the summit, two horrified gasps greeted him.

— "Holy Mary, mother of God," whispered Frances.

— "By the Valar," answered her companion.

Never before had the young woman called to God; she was non-religious by education. And yet, those were the first words that came to mind, for only a divinity only could save them from Saruman's wrath. An army of ten thousand Uruks marched upon them in plain sight, not even using the cover of darkness. There were no words to be uttered. Aragorn urged Arod to Helm's deep as fast as the stallion could carry them. And while on the run the ranger's jaw was firmly set, he could not help but rely on the support provided by Frances behind him. He would need all his strength ere nightfall.