Chapter 14

Footsteps pounded so close to her she could feel the vibration beneath her bedroll. Lori sat up, blinking sleep from her eyes, and the scrape of unsheathed metal made her scream.

There was a figure standing in the clearing where she'd settled down for the night, the silhouette of a drawn sword visible despite the dim lighting. Lori scrambled to her feet, drowsiness making her movements clumsy.

"Lori?"

She froze at the familiar voice. The figure lowered his sword and stepped closer.

"What are you doing here?" Faeron asked, disbelief coloring his voice.

All at once, her panic was drowned out by irritation. "I was sleeping."

"I gathered as much," he replied, sounding more amused than anything.

Lori crossed her arms, tempted by a sudden urge to laugh. "Are you going to scare the shit out of me every time we run into each other?"

"To be fair, you startled me too." He shrugged. "For what it's worth, I'm glad it's you and not a goblin."

She relaxed, unable to stop a smile from creeping onto her face. "What are you doing out here?"

The humor faded from his expression. "I could use your help, actually. I was looking for herbs. My partner was injured."

Instinctively, she straightened. "I'll take a look at him."

She was done with uncertainties—her conversation with Gandalf all those weeks ago had restored most of her confidence. If someone needed her, she wasn't going to shy away from helping them.

"Thank you. It's not far. Just stay close."

Faeron reached for her hand and she took it. The forest was dark, and she didn't know the way. And perhaps she just wanted to hold his hand.

"How was he injured?" she asked as they made their way through the brush.

"We were fighting off a troll." Faeron's footsteps were steadier than hers, and she was glad to see that his ankle injury hadn't lasted. "The thing knocked him into a tree, right where a branch had broken off. Pierced the back of his shoulder."

Lori couldn't suppress a wince. "And what happened to the troll?"

"It's dead. Or stone, rather."

"Stone?"

He nodded. "Trolls can't withstand sunlight. It was just a matter of holding it off until dawn and luring it into the open."

She raised her eyebrows at his casual tone. "Yeah, that sounds really simple."

"A night's work for a Ranger." He sighed. "I just wish Forlong hadn't been hurt in the process."

"I'll see what I can do for him." She squeezed his hand. "It doesn't sound like his injuries are too severe. Do you know if he hurt his ribs when he…when he hit the tree?"

"I don't have a clue." He shook his head. "He insisted that we bandage it and move on. It took me pointing out that he could barely use his left arm for him to agree to stop."

"So you Rangers are all the same."

He turned to her and raised an eyebrow. "I'm not that bad."

"You seem to be walking fine, so I'll give you that."

"Yes. Those silly little dance moves you taught me actually helped me recover my strength."

Lori was about to punch him in the arm when she was distracted by a steep hillside rising out of the gloom. Faeron pointed out a narrow trail leading up the side, barely visible between the thick, wiry bushes.

"The path is a bit narrow. Just watch your step."

She gathered her skirt close and followed him. The track wound around the hill, rising gradually upwards until it stopped at a gate. The stone was worn and patched with lichen, but the thick wooden doors in the center looked relatively new. Faeron pushed one aside and led her through the gap between.

They emerged into a tiny courtyard, containing the skeleton of what might have been a small stable at one point. Above them rose a half-ruined watchtower.

"Is this from the Old Kingdom?" she asked.

"I think so. Nowadays Rangers use it as a hideout." Faeron crossed the courtyard and beckoned her towards the doorway at the foot of the tower. "Come on. Forlong is in here."

The circular room was dim, a narrow window the only source of light. As her eyes adjusted, Lori could make out a man sitting against the far wall, one long leg stretched out before him.

"I brought help," Faeron said as the man began to rise. "You remember Lori?"

Forlong settled back and studied her for a moment. "Adela's apprentice."

"Right." Lori knelt beside him and began rifling through her bag. "Do you have the supplies for a fire?"

"Smoke attracts attention," Faeron said. "We try to keep this place a secret."

She sat back on her heels and looked up at him. "Well, I can't examine anyone if I can't see."

"Light a torch." Forlong sat up with a wince. "If I'm going to get stitched up, I'd rather have her do it properly."

Faeron held his hands up in surrender and began rummaging through the supplies piled against the wall. Within a minute, a flame illuminated the room, revealing the sweat glistening on Forlong's skin.

Lori reached towards his face, then paused. "May I?"

Forlong nodded, and she pressed the back of her hand to his forehead. She suppressed a sigh at the heat radiating onto her fingers.

"How long have you had a fever?"

"Since this morning," he said. Whatever discomfort he was experiencing, he was good at concealing it.

"Any trouble breathing? Other injuries?"

"Not that I've noticed."

"I'm going to have to undo the bandages so I can take a look at the wound." She gestured for Faeron to bring the torch closer.

The bindings were stained with blood, and it took some maneuvering to get them off without jostling the injury. The puncture wound beneath had stopped bleeding, but the flesh around it was red and swollen.

"It's infected?" Forlong asked in a steady voice.

"Yes, but that's treatable." Lori pulled her bag closer and pulled out a pair of tweezers she'd bought from a dwarvish trader. "I want to make sure there's no splinters inside the wound."

She sterilized the tweezers with a small bottle of alcohol. Faeron moved the torch closer.

"This is, um, going to hurt a little."

Without further preamble, she began inspecting the wound as gently as she could. Forlong let out a small grunt, the muscles of his back tensing at the touch of metal, but he remained still. Lori found a tiny fragment of wood, needle-thin and half an inch long, and pulled it out. Faeron made a small noise of disgust as she flicked it onto the floor.

After another minute of gentle prodding, she pulled back.

"I think that's all. I'm going to put a bit of ointment on the wound to help with the infection." She pulled a small jar out of her bag and opened it, and the scent of garlic permeated the room. "Sorry. This is going to sting like hell."

Forlong took the rest of the treatment stoically, and once Lori had finished stitching and bandaging the wound, he gingerly shifted to lean back against the wall.

"Thank you," he said. "I'm sure Adela would be proud of your skills."

Lori gave him an awkward smile. She'd tried not to think about Adela much in the months since she'd left. "I'll check on your wound tomorrow to make sure it's healing properly."

She packed up the rest of her supplies and stood up. Faeron put a hand on her arm, making her turn.

"I appreciate you coming here. I'm not sure what I would have done if I hadn't run into you."

"It was nothing. I'm just glad he was able to get help in time."

Faeron gave her a shy smile. "I'm glad it was you."

Lori blushed. There had been times in the past months when she'd wondered if there really had been anything between them, or if it had only been a fantasy conjured by a lonely mind. She felt less doubtful now.

"Let's go up to the next floor." Faeron tilted his head towards the stairs. "Give this one some peace and quiet."

"Sure." Lori slung her bag over her shoulder and followed him up the spiraling steps. The stone was worn and bordered with moss and lichen, but it felt sturdy enough between her feet.

A small window allowed light into the small second floor. Centuries of rain and wind had pried the opening to a wider shape than its original one, and it gave a decent view of the brooding forest below the ridge. A low fog hung in the distance, shrouding the horizon.

Faeron paced in a small circle, hands waving at his sides as if he didn't know what to do with them. "It's not much, but it's safe and hidden. Gives us a good view of the land to the south."

Lori deposited her bag in one corner of the room. "Well, something tells me that most Ranger hideouts aren't exactly five-star."

He tilted his head. "Five-star?"

"Um." She silently berated herself. "It's just a saying where I'm from. It means fancy."

"Ah." He shrugged, seeming to find her answer acceptable. "So, what are you doing so far from the cottage?"

"I left. Wanted to get out and conduct business on my own terms."

He smirked. "So you weren't looking for anyone in particular?"

She raised her eyebrows. "If I remember correctly, you were the one who ran into my camp."

Faeron laughed at that. "It is nice to run again. It was frustrating, having to wait for my ankle to heal, but I remembered the advice you gave me."

A blush rose on her cheeks—he'd thought about her.

"I'm glad you did. I'm sure it was frustrating, but it paid off, didn't it?"

"It did. I wish there was a way I could repay you for what you did for me then, and for helping Forlong now."

"You don't owe me anything. Seriously."

"Well, even so." Faeron cleared his throat and fiddled with the hem of his tunic. "I still want to do something to thank you."

Lori hid a smile, half-tempted to tease him about his obvious nervousness. "Like what?"

"Like." He scratched the back of his head. "I suppose I hadn't put much thought into it."

God, this is going to take forever at this rate. Fighting against a burst of jitters in her stomach, she said, "Did you want to kiss me?"

His head shot up, and his cheeks darkened. "Yes. If that's all right with you."

She tilted her head, as if to say, What are you waiting for?

Faeron crossed the distance between them and took her face in his hands, then hesitated. She grasped his waist and pulled him in, kissed him, smiled against his lips. She let her senses fall away until it was just the moonlight, the darkness, and the two of them in between.

Lori didn't remember the last time she'd woken up with a roof over her head.

She allowed herself to be lazy for once, to lie on her bedroll and watch the hazy edges of the patch of sunlight on the floor as she turned over the previous night in her head. They had only kissed, and afterwards Faeron had gone downstairs to keep watch, but the memory still put a giddy smile on her face.

She sat up and stretched, then smoothed down her hair as best she could. Before anything else, she had to check on Forlong and see if he needed more medicine.

She'd only just pushed herself to her feet when a tall figure appeared in the doorway leading to the stairs. Her eyes widened in shock before her face broke into a grin.

"Aragorn." She crossed the room and embraced him, taking in his familiar scent as he hugged her back.

"I'm glad to see you," Aragorn said once she pulled away. "Faeron told me you arrived last night."

Lori straightened. "His partner was injured. Have you had a chance to look at him?"

He nodded. "You did well in treating his wound." A small smile touched his lips. "I had a feeling the profession of a healer would suit you."

Warmth glowed in her chest. "Well, I wouldn't have found that path at all if it weren't for you."

"I'll admit, I'm surprised to find you so far from Adela's cottage." He turned to descend the stairs and gestured for her to follow.

Lori struggled for a moment to find a simple answer that wouldn't sound ungrateful. "We, uh, both agreed it would be better for me to start learning from practical experience, so I set out on my own."

Her response seemed to satisfy Aragorn, and he didn't press her as they reached the bottom floor. Forlong was dozing beneath the window, his chin propped on his fist, and Faeron was lingering by the door. Lori shared a brief, knowing smile with him as their eyes met.

"Did you sleep all right?" Faeron asked.

"Yeah. That was the first time in a while I've been able to really rest without having to watch my back."

Aragorn glanced at her. "There is something we must discuss."

He motioned for her to follow him out the front door, and she tried to ignore the sinking feeling in her gut. Faeron gave her a tense smile as she passed, which didn't exactly help her nerves.

They passed through the small courtyard and the front gate, out onto the overgrown path. The forest below blushed gold with sunlight, and early summer heat had already descended onto the hillside.

"I am grateful you were here to tend to Forlong's wounds, but you should know that this refuge is known only to the Rangers," Aragorn said. "I trust you without doubt, but if someone were to follow you here, it would pose a risk to the men."

"So I shouldn't come here again," Lori said, and he gave her an apologetic nod. "I understand. The last thing I'd want is to put any of you in danger."

"Thank you, Lori."

She mulled over his words again, the way he'd said the men, and she recalled what Faeron had told her the first time they'd met.

"There's something I want to talk to you about." She paused to gather her thoughts. "Faeron told me that you're the leader of the Rangers. The chieftain."

"He spoke the truth," Aragorn replied evenly.

Lori suddenly felt guilty for bringing it up, like her words were an accusation she had no right to voice. Again, the image of the cairn in the snow came to the forefront of her mind.

"I know that it's a dangerous position for you to have, and the less people who know, the better," she said.

Aragorn cut her off with a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I meant what I said before—I trust you, Lori. I never mentioned it to you before because you are not one of my subordinates. My status has no bearing on our relationship."

"Well, it kind of does." She stuttered for a moment and clasped her elbows. "I-I mean, you have a lot of responsibility on your shoulders and people to take care of…" She glanced towards the gate of the watchtower.

Aragorn was listening to her with a furrowed brow—he hadn't quite arrived at the point she was trying to make.

She shook her head, frustrated with her struggle to find the right words. "You spent so much time looking after me when you had so many other things to take care of."

"And what is it that makes you less important than these other things?"

Lori opened her mouth to respond and realized she had no answer. Aragorn was looking at her with a small frown, and her cheeks flushed. "I-I'm not trying to criticize. I'm grateful for everything you've done for me—"

"And you have said as much many times," he said with a hint of humor in his voice, before his expression turned serious. "Lori, there is no value that you can offer that makes you worthy of guidance and care. It is enough that you were in need. Do you understand?"

She bit the inside of her cheek and turned away. That first winter made sense—if Aragorn had left her in the wild, she would have died. But he could have handed her off to the elves or another Ranger afterwards. She was too flustered to bring the point up, so she managed a nod and said, "I understand. Sorry for bringing it up."

"You don't need to apologize."

"All right. Sor—" She managed to laugh at herself. "Okay."

Aragorn smiled along with her, but before they turned back to the watchtower, she caught him looking at her like he was seeing something different, like a puzzle piece had snapped into place for him.

It was late afternoon when Lori pushed open the door of the Prancing Pony. She let out a sigh of relief as the warmth of the tavern greeted her, the air scented with autumn spices and leather. The last couple of months on the road had been grueling and lonely, and she was grateful for a place where she could just sit.

Her eyes swept across the patrons in the room, searching in vain for a familiar face. Her meeting with Faeron and Aragorn had been brief before they'd all had to go their separate ways, but seeing them again had only made her campsites in the following weeks feel emptier.

"Excuse me, miss!"

She looked up and realized the innkeeper—Barliman, she'd learned—was waving her over to the front counter.

"Lori, is it?" he asked as she approached.

"Yes, that's me." She was half-surprised he remembered her name, given the amount of people that passed through the inn each day.

"Someone's left a letter for you." He gestured for her to wait and disappeared into the backroom.

Lori moved out of the way as a dusty group of miners walked through the front door. A pleasant anticipation fluttered in her chest. Her first guess was that one of the Rangers had attempted to write her—either Aragorn or Faeron—or perhaps Hazel's family had left a note. It could even be Bilbo or one of the elves reaching out. She just hoped this world didn't have some version of junk mail.

Barliman returned a moment later with a rolled up piece of parchment, tied with string and sealed with a smear of wax. "Here you are."

She nodded her thanks and unfurled the paper with careful fingers. The writing within was a little messy, the lines slanting towards each other, but still legible.

Lori,

I hope this message finds you soon. I wasn't sure when you'd next pass through Bree, but if you're able to come, Archet will be celebrating its autumn festival on September 24. I hope I can see you there. Until we meet again.

Faeron

A smile curled her lips as she skimmed the note, then reread it. First time I've ever been asked out on parchment. Her doubts had crept back in during the weeks since she'd last seen him, but he'd proven her wrong once again.

"Good news, is it?" Barliman asked, bringing her back to the present.

"Um, yes." She tried and failed to tame her smile. "Can I ask what day it is?"

He flicked a glance at his log book. "It is the twenty-second of September."

Lori did the math in her head. The festival was two days away. She'd only been to Archet a handful of times, but that was enough for her to know she would have to hurry to make it in time. She slid the letter into her bag, careful not to crumple the paper.

Barliman leaned his elbows on the counter. "No time to stop for a pint?"

"Sorry," she said, though she couldn't muster any real apology in her voice. Before she made for the door, she turned back and added, "I owe you one next time I drop by."

Okay, Faeron is starting to grow on me a little. I'll admit I wasn't too invested in him at first, but he's a cool guy. I have noted that some readers took a liking to him, so he might be more involved than I originally planned. More on that later.

If I did chapter titles for this story, this one would probably be called "Lori tries to wrap her head around the concept of unconditional parental love" lol. I'll be interested to see what you think about her relationship with Aragorn at this point.

Anyway, I should have the next chapter uploaded a week from now. I'm happy and grateful to see the new favorites/follows/reviews, they mean a lot to me. Until next time!