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the houses of healing 1131
at first I could have told you. No, we have none of it, I am
sure. Why, I have never heard that it had any great virtue;
and indeed I have often said to my sisters when we came
upon it growing in the woods: ‘‘kingsfoil’’, I said, ‘‘’tis a
strange name, and I wonder why ’tis called so; for if I were a
king, I would have plants more bright in my garden’’. Still it
smells sweet when bruised, does it not? If sweet is the right
word: wholesome, maybe, is nearer.’
‘Wholesome verily,’ said Aragorn. ‘And now, dame, if you
love the Lord Faramir, run as quick as your tongue and get
me kingsfoil, if there is a leaf in the City.’
‘And if not,’ said Gandalf, ‘I will ride to Lossarnach with
Ioreth behind me, and she shall take me to the woods, but
not to her sisters. And Shadowfax shall show her the meaning
of haste.’
When Ioreth was gone, Aragorn bade the other women to
make water hot. Then he took Faramir’s hand in his, and laid
the other hand upon the sick man’s brow. It was drenched
with sweat; but Faramir did not move or make any sign, and
seemed hardly to breathe.
‘He is nearly spent,’ said Aragorn turning to Gandalf. ‘But
this comes not from the wound. See! that is healing. Had he
been smitten by some dart of the Nazgûl, as you thought, he
would have died that night. This hurt was given by some
Southron arrow, I would guess. Who drew it forth? Was it
kept?’
‘I drew it forth,’ said Imrahil, ‘and staunched the wound.
But I did not keep the arrow, for we had much to do. It was,
as I remember, just such a dart as the Southrons use. Yet I
believed that it came from the Shadows above, for else his
fever and sickness were not to be understood; since the
wound was not deep or vital. How then do you read the
matter?’
‘Weariness, grief for his father’s mood, a wound, and over
all the Black Breath,’ said Aragorn. ‘He is a man of staunch
will, for already he had come close under the Shadow before