***See previous chapters for excuses on my tardiness :) ... can't believe i'm on chapter 17. Wow. I'm also beginning to get jealous of my own character. Not good. As always, please R&R!***



The long night bled indistinguishably into the next day, all light drowned by the stormclouds high above the trees, the rain never stopping. Aragorn woke once, thrown out of sleep by evil dreams, but a sleepy murmur from the girl lying over him drove them back, and soon enough the soft patter of water outside the perimeter of the tree's shelter soothed him, and he slept again, forgetting he had ever woken.

When consciousness crept over him again, he automatically started to get up, but found that he could not; here was a small noise, and he looked down and saw the dark, messy head on his chest, felt the girl shift a little in his lap, missing the weight of his arm. For one terrifying moment he could not remember what she was doing there, then he remembered, and the relief was tempered with shame. He had misjudged his own weakness, and she had saved him from the fever by warming him; saved herself, too, for if he had become sick, there would have been no hope for her. It reassured him, to remember that, and gave him the will to ignore her warmth, and to swiftly push down the vague memories that tugged at him, of whispers when he was half-delirious. Best for both of them that he did not think of that, now.

She moved again, and a shiver ran down his side where her hand brushed his skin. He swiftly rolled her off him with his good arm, covering her with the cloak, and painfully and slowly pulled himself up, ignoring the protests from various parts of his body. He was surprised at how unsteady his legs were at first, and at his light-headedness when he stood. After a minute he gingerly tried lifting his sore arm again to look at it. It was dressed, tightly bound with ragged cotton, and was dark with blood, but none of it was fresh.

"I bandaged it, but I wasn't sure if it would hold."

She was fully awake, the cloak wrapped around her, her eyes bright as they searched his face, seeking something there.

"It is very good. Thankyou."

She nodded, and watched as he found the limp waterskins, and took them to hang them on a branch to catch the rain. He walked slowly, to hide his dizziness, but that faded quickly.

"I forgot to do that", she said, quietly.

"They will not take long to fill".

He painfully pulled on his damp, blood-stiffened tunic and cloak, and tested the movement in his other arm. It was painful, but bearable.

"I thought-"

He turned, and saw with surprise that she had flushed deep red, and was looking at the ground. She bit her lip, in confusion or embarrassment, and when she spoke again, he could hardly hear her.

"You seemed so sick, I thought I needed to help you. I shouldn't have touched you. I'm sorry."

He stared at her, astonished. Then he saw her eyes flicker for a second up at him, fearfully, and his mind cleared, as if he had been splashed with cold water. He knelt down by her, and touched her cheek to make her look at him.

"Lora, you did nothing wrong. If you had not acted as you did, we would both be lost now. I was foolish, to underestimate my wound. Forgive me."

She turned her face away, and with a cold stab of shame he saw tears in her eyes, and he fought the urge to put his arms around her, seeking desperately for another way to comfort her. It is I who should be ashamed, not she.

"Lora, please believe me."

She rubbed her hand violently across her eyes, and sniffed. Then she huffed like a small child, and frowned, mock-sulkily.

"I'm hungry."

Aragorn was surprised into laughter, and Lora looked up, a wry, sad smile on her face, so wistful that he felt his heart might break, and he could not meet her eyes. I can only cause pain, by letting her care for me. Only pain.

After a moment, she said, "Are we near the end of the forest?", and he realised how tired she was, and that they had no more food. He got up, briskly.

"We travelled far, yesterday. We may reach the first settlements by tonight."

They drank a little, and walked on sore and worn feet, the wound in Aragorn's arm gnawing when he did not concentrate on something else, the fine, cold rain settling over them, chilling to the bone, although no longer soaking them. He realised, as the pale light filtering through the trees brightened, that they had come even farther than he thought in the last, forced run of the previous evening, that he now could hardly remember making. The trees began to be spaced a little further apart, and there was more grass where sunlight could reach the ground more freely. They stopped, frequently but briefly, and Aragorn spoke to Lora a little of the first settlements at the boundaries of the forests, of the people who did not cut the living wood of the forest, in the shadow of Fangorn, but collected only the limbs that fell, and kept pigs, and grew what they could in the shadow of the great trees. They did not have much, but they would shelter for a night two wanderers coming out of the forest, if only out of fear.

It was a surprise when the forest ended, and they stumbled out into the open air, and saw the sky for the first time since they had been above the trees, so long ago, but only a few days before. Lora felt as if a huge weight had been taken from her shoulders; the trees stood behind her, tall and dark, but before her was an open plain that seemed to stretch out forever, and she almost laughed in relief, despite her exhaustion. She wanted to get away from under the shadow of the forest, but there was no other shelter from the rain that drove harder now, so they skirted the borders of the woods, and the going did not seem as hard. She could not see much beyond the nearest hill, but she could not take her eyes off the horizon, and once saw a small, black figure moving across the skyline, and pointed, excited.

"A rider, on a horse", Aragorn told her, and she watched it, but it came no closer, and eventually disappeared again.

"We will follow him, tomorrow, if we are strong enough."

Lora was too delighted to be under the sky to question him, but he woke in her fears that she had forgotten while concentrating on surviving. She tried to shake them off, and then saw that he had stopped.

"I must take you to Edoras, Lora. I will look for an old companion there. He is wise, he will know what to do."

"Does he live there?"

She thought he saw something guarded flicker across his face, but he answered her openly enough.

"No. He goes where he is needed, and I believe he will be there."

She tried to be quiet, but could not stop the question bursting from her.

"Will he know who I am?"

He looked at her, his grey eyes steady, and she felt reassured, although she could not say why she should be.

"He may have some idea of how you came to be in the forest, and why. He is very wise, and very old."

Again she had the feeling, as he turned away to the skyline, that he had looked at her askance, just for a second, watching her in a way he had not done since he had told her, "I believe you are exactly what you appeared to be". It no longer made her angry, but left a cold, uneasy weight in her stomach. She dismissed it wearily as they went on their way again. She had more pressing things to concentrate on, like staying upright. She was tired.