Chapter 16
This time around, Lori could sense that they were getting close to Rivendell. As soon as the cold mellowed out, she let out a relieved sigh and dropped her shoulders, which had been hunched against the chill.
"Do you come here every year?" she asked. "I honestly wouldn't mind spending every winter here."
"I am not always so fortunate. It is at the request of an old friend that I am returning now," Aragorn said, then added with a wry smile, "I suppose it is a happy coincidence that it happens to be at the coldest time of the year."
Lori hummed in agreement. "Is this friend anyone I know?"
"I do not believe you have met him yet. He is…an interesting fellow. A wanderer."
"Seems like Rivendell is exclusively inhabited by interesting people. And me."
Aragorn glanced at her. "What makes you think you are not interesting?"
She waved a hand in an evasive gesture. "Well, besides the whole dying thing, I'm basically a giant ball of anxiety on my best days. There's not much that really stands out."
"There must have been something that set you apart from your peers before you came here."
Lori thought for a moment. "Well, I was in the top five in my computer science program in college." Before he could ask, she added, "We were ranked based on our grades, basically how well we did on assignments and exams and stuff. Out of a couple hundred students, I had the third best grade."
She tried for a smile. Back in college, that had been a decent thing to brag about, but it had lost most of its weight after graduation. Here, that number meant next to nothing.
"Then you are a good student," Aragorn said. "I have seen as much in your studies of Sindarin."
"Right." Student. She felt a little relieved to be something more than just that, now that she could put what she learned into practice. "If you could choose to be something else besides a Ranger, what would you be?"
Aragorn fell silent at her question. She snuck a glance at him out of the corner of her eye, wondering if she'd accidentally offended him. His gaze was pensive, far-off.
"You mean a role of my own choosing," he said after a while.
"Yeah," she said softly. "Anything you want."
"I would choose a simple life. A farmer, perhaps. Somewhere to live out my days in peace."
"That sounds nice." A bit boring, but she couldn't blame a Ranger for wanting that.
"And you?"
"You mean if I could be something other than a healer?"
When he nodded, she fell into her own contemplative silence. For years, she'd dreamed of working in Silicon Valley, though these days it was more of a possibility that she'd learn how to fly. In truth, she wasn't sure if she'd actually wanted a job there as much as she'd wanted the approval from her parents. She thought back to the workers she'd encountered in Bree-land: merchants, miners, shoemakers, town officials. She'd never envied any of them.
"I think I'd be happy still being a healer. I just wish…" She chewed on her bottom lip. There was something she was missing. She'd known it for a while, now. "I don't know. There are still some things I have to figure out."
"You have time," Aragorn said, and she shot him a grateful smile.
When Rivendell finally came into view through the trees, it was like stepping into a beam of sunlight. The sight of the elegant, timeless buildings, along with the promise of hot water and clean sheets, put a new momentum in her weary steps.
Lori recalled the first time she had come here, how intimidated she'd been by the foreign place and its people. Now she felt a comforting familiarity as she crossed the small bridge at Rivendell's outer boundary. This place didn't feel like home, exactly—more like the home of a close family member.
She'd forgotten how quiet Rivendell was, compared to the bustle of Bree, and it wasn't until they had passed the stables that they ran into someone.
Lori grinned as she recognized Lindir before her eyebrows rose at the sight of his companion.
"Aragorn," Gandalf said. "I'm glad to see you could answer my summons so swiftly." He turned his gaze to Lori. "Though I am somewhat surprised to see you here, my dear."
"So am I," Lori said. With his worn gray robes and bushy beard, Gandalf looked completely out of place in Rivendell, though she was glad to see another friendly face. She couldn't help but wonder what exactly he was doing here, and what business he had with Aragorn that was important enough to pull him away from his duties as a Ranger.
Aragorn tilted his head. "I did not realize you two knew each other."
"We ran into each other a few months back," Lori said. "He gave me some good advice."
"I hope you were able to find whatever it was that you were seeking," Gandalf said warmly.
"I did," she said, and guessed from the twinkle in his eye that he'd caught on to more than she'd said aloud.
"There will be time for proper introductions later." Gandalf straightened and addressed Aragorn. "For now, there is something I must discuss with you."
"Very well." Aragorn laid a hand on Lori's shoulder, a gentle parting touch, then departed with Gandalf towards the main hall.
"I can show you to your old room, if you desire to clean yourself," Lindir said.
"That would be amazing." Lori set out towards the guest houses with Lindir, though she cast one last glance at Gandalf's retreating back.
An interesting fellow, Aragorn had called him. There was definitely something significant about him if he had been the one to ask Aragorn to come to Rivendell. There was too much of a resemblance to the man from Bilbo's stories to be a coincidence.
Lindir's voice broke her out of her musings. "I did not expect to see you return to Rivendell so soon."
She raised an eyebrow. "I was gone for two years."
"Ah, yes. I forget sometimes that time does not pass so quickly for mortals." Lindir gave her an assessing glance. "You have changed."
"How so?"
"You look at people more carefully than you once did. That is a good trait for a healer to have."
She turned to him so quickly the muscles in her neck protested. "What—How did you know?"
"Your bag smells of herbs," he replied with a smile that she'd come to recognize as the elves' version of mischievous. "Lord Elrond and Erestor will be pleased. No doubt they will have a few things to teach you, as well."
"I'd like that."
She could only imagine what sort of medical knowledge a person could uncover after centuries of life—maybe even things that hadn't been discovered back in her world.
"I don't know how long I'll be staying here, but I'd like to get back to playing the violin again," she added.
"You are welcome to stay as long as you like."
The words warmed her, despite the chill in the air. Maybe this was just what she needed—some time to relax and reassess, without worrying about finding her next meal or a place to sleep.
She had a chance to face her thoughts for once, instead of running from them.
A long, hot bath and a full meal did wonders for her mood. That night, Lori retreated to one of the sitting rooms in the main building and settled into an armchair next to the fireplace. Idly, she flipped through the pages in her notebook. During her moments of down time, it was the only thing she had to keep herself occupied, and it had become habit to look through her notes to refresh her memory.
Her full stomach and the luxurious warmth permeating the room made her limbs grow heavy. Lori didn't realize she'd fallen asleep until she jolted awake, blinking the grogginess from her eyes.
"Ah, you're awake. You were quite dead to the world for a while, there."
Lori turned to the armchair across from hers and grinned. "Bilbo." She grabbed her notebook before it could slide off her lap. "Sorry I missed you at dinner."
He waved her off and shut his own book. "Don't fret. I had my supper a bit later than usual. I can get carried away when I'm working on my poetry, you know."
"What about the book you were writing?"
"It's finished," Bilbo said, lifting his chin. "Took a bit of tinkering to get the right ending, but I can finally say it's done."
"That's amazing! I'd love to read it whenever it's available."
"Well, perhaps I will make an exception and put you at the front of the queue," he said with a wink. "And what of your own book?"
"Oh, mine isn't much of a narrative. I've been learning about healing while I've been away, and I mostly took notes on patients and herbs."
"May I see?"
Lori leaned over to hand the notebook to him, and he began leafing through the pages. A furrow gradually deepened between his brows.
"My dear, your penmanship is atrocious."
Lori rolled her eyes and held her hand out for the book. "It's just for me to read, and I can understand what I wrote just fine."
He gave it back to her. "I suppose no one ever taught you how to write properly with an ink and quill."
"Nope." She sat back. "Besides, the healers from my wo—from where I'm from are sort of known for having bad handwriting."
Bilbo shook his head with a mock-scowl. "Good penmanship is a lost art among the youth these days."
She tucked the book beside her on the armchair and brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek. "Can I ask you something about your story?"
"You may, but I cannot promise that I will answer."
"It's about the wizard you've mentioned, the one named Gandalf. When I arrived here earlier today, there was a man with that same name. Is that…"
"Oh, yes. Big gray beard, pointy hat?" When she nodded, Bilbo said, "That is the very same wizard who accompanied us on my adventure—for most of the way, anyhow."
Lori blinked. "Is he a Dúnadan like Aragorn?"
"No, I don't believe so. He's a wizard," Bilbo added, as if that cleared everything up. "The old fellow's been around since I was a young lad, ages and ages ago."
"So…is he an elf?"
"No, no. Wizards are just a different sort than the other folk in Middle-earth. If you want to know more, you should ask him yourself. Though I doubt you'll get a straight answer."
"That's all right." Lori looked away. She didn't think it would be appropriate to approach someone she was barely acquainted with and ask, "What are you?"
He and Aragorn had both been absent from dinner as well, and her thoughts kept wandering back to whatever they'd been discussing. As much as she wanted to believe they were just catching up, or that Gandalf had brought news from abroad, something in her gut insisted there was danger in whatever summons the wizard had issued.
"Gandalf was the one who got me out the door and on my first journey, you know," Bilbo said. "There I was, enjoying a smoke after second breakfast in the front garden…"
He'd told this story before, but Lori relaxed into the armchair and listened quietly. She couldn't begrudge him a moment to reminisce about his younger days, and his animated style of storytelling was entertaining no matter how many times she'd heard it.
"I packed my things in such a hurry that I forgot my handkerchief. I didn't even think of it until I was halfway to Frogmorton." Bilbo chuckled to himself. "I suppose in the end it was a good thing the dwarves had ransacked my pantry the previous night, because I would not return to clean it for a very long time."
He fell into a pensive silence, and Lori flicked a stray bit of fluff off of the armrest of her chair.
"Why did you decide to leave?" she asked after a while. "That was the farthest you'd ever been from home, right?"
"It was." Bilbo clasped his hands over his stomach and let out a sigh. "At first I was after a chance for a proper adventure. A part of me knew that it would be my only opportunity to do such a thing. I grew rather discouraged after I learned just how utterly nasty and uncomfortable it could get, out in the Wild. But eventually I grew fond of my companions, and I wanted to see them return to their home, the same way I wanted to return to mine."
There had been some measure of loyalty there, Lori realized. He'd had people to follow, someone he cared enough about to risk his life.
"I meant to go back," Bilbo said quietly. The bravado and nostalgia had both drained from his voice. "I meant to see them all again, but…"
There was pain there, before he let his words trail off into silence. Lori bit her lip, searching for the right way to console him.
"I could visit them for you, pass on a message," she said. "I know it wouldn't be the same, but—"
"I couldn't ask you to do that, dear girl." Bilbo shook his head, regaining his composure. "You have too much life ahead of you to be running errands for an old hobbit."
She was silent for a moment. "I think I'm feeling the way you used to. Like I need to go…somewhere."
Lori blinked in surprise at her own words. The thought of traveling somewhere foreign, even for the simple purpose of delivering a message, had sent a small thrill through her.
"Well, there are many opportunities to see the world, if you're smart enough to see them for what they are," Bilbo said, watching her closely.
"I'm sure there are." Lori turned her gaze back to the fire, her momentary enthusiasm fading.
This wasn't like her old life—there were no planes or phones to make connection easy. Traveling was dangerous and tiring, even when she had someone with the skills to protect her.
Even a place like Rivendell had its limits, but she had enough to stay safe and comfortable. She would have to be satisfied with merely fantasizing about bigger things.
Lori set down the red-bound book and blinked back tears, grateful the library was empty. She'd read the entirety of Bilbo's story in one sitting, immediately drawn in by his blunt yet engaging style of writing. Most of the story had been a series of lively but mostly harmless encounters with the more dangerous creatures in Middle-earth. She'd smiled at the familiar descriptions of Rivendell and wondered at the strange animals of Beorn's house.
Bilbo had maintained his matter-of-fact tone to the very end, but she'd sensed the pain in his words after the dragon had destroyed Lake-town, after the gold-sickness and the battle and the death of someone he'd loved dearly. It put into context every melancholy look she'd caught on his face.
That grief, the loneliness that bled between the lines as Bilbo described his return journey, tugged at her heart in a way she didn't fully understand. She sat back in her chair and wiped her eyes. She didn't want to be alone right now, but she didn't want anyone to see her like this, either.
With a sigh, she stood and began wandering the library.
There were a number of different artifacts in the library—statues and other relics that were likely centuries, if not millennia old. It always made her nervous that none of these things were protected by a glass case. She felt guilty just breathing near them.
A pedestal on the second floor held a collection of metal shards on top of a blue velvet cloth. They were the shards of the sword Narsil, Erestor had explained to her. The blade had been shattered centuries ago during a battle waged against an evil warlord. The broken handle had been used to sever a magic ring from the tyrant's finger, which had finally brought an end to the war.
Lori turned and found herself facing a painting depicting the event. Most of the canvas was swathed in black, an armored figure advancing across the field and leaving nothing in his wake, even as a band of gold gleamed on his finger.
Her eyes fell to the soldier in the bottom left, lying prone but defiant with a broken sword held aloft to ward off his assailant's attack. Dead bodies and broken banners lay at his feet. The light gleaming from his blade seemed to shrink as she gazed at the painting. It was hard to believe the man had been the one to triumph in the end.
She looked closer at his face, the stoic determination set in his brow even as death loomed above him. It reminded her of Aragorn, how he always managed to keep a level head despite the dangers he faced.
Her eyes were drawn back to the negative space, the black void closing over the subject of the painting like a fist. She felt that darkness in her own heart, that overwhelming call towards nothingness.
Something her mother had once said to her rose from her memories, and a lump appeared in her throat.
She had looked at Lori with something that was almost loathing and said, "I see this darkness in you."
The rest of her sentence had gone unspoken.
I see this darkness in you, and that's all you'll ever be.
There had been a time once when she'd thought of the void as an external force, something she could fight against. But it occurred to her now that perhaps it always been within her, that it was her, and she had no light she could call upon, no broken sword that wouldn't make her bleed.
And she didn't know if it was possible to fight against her own state of being.
I'm happy to go back to writing characters like Bilbo and Lindir! This chapter and the next will be a little bit of downtime, and then we're moving on to a plot arc that I've been looking forward to for a while.
It was pretty interesting to explore more of Aragorn's motivations at the beginning of this chapter. I know in the movies he's all "I never wanted to be king" at first but I lean more towards the book interpretation. I don't think he wants power exactly, it's more that he's capable of being king, he knows that Gondor will need a leader, and so he takes the responsibility. It's kind of like his relationship with Lori; there's no sort of destiny binding them together, no past regret that he's trying to atone for, it's just that she needs someone to be there for her, he can do it, and so he does.
Anyway, apologies for the shorter chapter. I'm trying to keep the pacing consistent before we move on to the second half of the story. I also had to tinker with a couple scenes a lot to get them where I wanted. I'd rather take out things I don't like than leave them in for the sake of length.
And finally, thank you so much for 100 followers! I appreciate it more than you know!