return

1132 the return of the king
ever he rode to battle on the out-walls. Slowly the dark must
have crept on him, even as he fought and strove to hold his
outpost. Would that I could have been here sooner!’
Thereupon the herb-master entered. ‘Your lordship asked
for kingsfoil, as the rustics name it,’ he said; ‘or athelas in
the noble tongue, or to those who know somewhat of the
Valinorean...’
‘I do so,’ said Aragorn, ‘and I care not whether you say
now asëa aranion or kingsfoil, so long as you have some.’
‘Your pardon lord!’ said the man. ‘I see you are a loremaster,
not merely a captain of war. But alas! sir, we do not
keep this thing in the Houses of Healing, where only the
gravely hurt or sick are tended. For it has no virtue that we
know of, save perhaps to sweeten a fouled air, or to drive
away some passing heaviness. Unless, of course, you give
heed to rhymes of old days which women such as our good
Ioreth still repeat without understanding.
When the black breath blows
and death’s shadow grows
and all lights pass,
come athelas! come athelas!
Life to the dying
In the king’s hand lying!
It is but a doggrel, I fear, garbled in the memory of old wives.
Its meaning I leave to your judgement, if indeed it has any.
But old folk still use an infusion of the herb for headaches.’
‘Then in the name of the king, go and find some old man
of less lore and more wisdom who keeps some in his house!’
cried Gandalf.
Now Aragorn knelt beside Faramir, and held a hand upon
his brow. And those that watched felt that some great struggle
was going on. For Aragorn’s face grew grey with weariness;
and ever and anon he called the name of Faramir, but each