Aragorn Heals the Sick

In the aftermath of the great battle, as the wounded and dying filled the Houses of Healing in Minas Tirith, Aragorn son of Arathorn, the heir of Isildur, turned from the sword to the art of healing. The prophecy spoken by the wise-woman Ioreth—that the hands of a rightful king are the hands of a healer—found its fulfillment in his actions. Three figures lay under the deadly grip of the Black Shadow, the venomous breath of the Nazgûl: Faramir, the Steward's son, pierced by a Southron arrow and worn by grief and despair; Éowyn, the Lady of Rohan, who had slain the Witch-king but been crushed by the horror of the encounter; and Meriadoc the hobbit, who had stabbed the Ringwraith from behind and felt the cold of its passing. Aragorn, weary from battle and long journey, did not rest. He knelt beside each in turn, calling upon a power older than the lore of the healers of Gondor.

The Healing of Faramir

Aragorn first went to Faramir, who lay in a fever, his wound already closed but his spirit nearly spent. The herb-master of the Houses brought dried leaves of athelas, or kingsfoil, a plant of little repute among the learned but known in old rhymes to have virtue in the king's hand. Aragorn took two leaves, crushed them, and cast them into steaming water. A living freshness filled the room, a fragrance like the memory of dewy mornings in an unshadowed land. He held the bowl before Faramir's dreaming face, and the sick man stirred. Opening his eyes, Faramir looked upon Aragorn and spoke: "My lord, you called me. I come. What does the king command?" Aragorn bade him rest and take food, and the Steward's son was recalled from the brink of death.

The Healing of Éowyn

Next Aragorn came to Éowyn. Her shield-arm had been broken by the mace of the Witch-king, but the deeper wound was in her spirit. She lay cold and still, her face white as a lily, hard as graven stone. Aragorn saw that her malady began long before the battle, in the long months of watching Théoden fall under Wormtongue's spell, in the despair of a caged spirit that sought death in glory. He bent and kissed her brow, calling her softly: "Éowyn Éomund's daughter, awake! For your enemy has passed away!" Again he bruised athelas leaves into water, and as the clean, sharp fragrance spread, a keen wind seemed to blow through the chamber, fresh and young, as if from snowy mountains or shores of silver far away. He took her right hand, and it grew warm with life returning. "Awake! The shadow is gone and all darkness is washed clean!" She opened her eyes and spoke to her brother Éomer, and the winter of her heart passed.

The Healing of Merry

Last, Aragorn came to Meriadoc, who lay grey-faced and weary, his right arm cold and lifeless from the blow he had struck against the Lord of the Nazgûl. Aragorn laid his hand on the hobbit's head, passing his fingers gently through the brown curls, and touched his eyelids. The fragrance of athelas stole through the room like the scent of orchards and heather in sunshine full of bees. Merry awoke and asked for supper, and then for a pipe. When he spoke of Théoden, who had died praising him, Aragorn counseled him to smoke and think of the king, for his service had been brief but honourable. Merry smiled and took the pipe, and the shadow lifted from his heart.

The Fulfillment of the Prophecy

Word went through the City that the King had indeed come, and that after war he brought healing. Aragorn laboured far into the night with the sons of Elrond, and many who lay under the Black Shadow were saved. The prophecy of Ioreth was remembered: "The hands of the king are the hands of a healer, and so shall the rightful king be known." In this act of healing, Aragorn was revealed not merely as a warrior or a lord, but as the true heir of Elendil, in whom the ancient power of the Kings of Men was renewed. The crownless had become king, and the broken blade was forged anew, not only in steel but in the restoration of life itself.