As always, thanks so much for the reviews/favorites/follows. Enjoy this holiday-themed chapter!
Chapter 17
The familiar scent of herbs greeted Lori as she walked into the infirmary.
The room smelled like the inside of her bag—both pungent and sweet, like a cocktail of meadow grass. She'd come to find it comforting—it had been one of the only constants during her days on the road.
Erestor smiled in greeting as she entered. "You're early."
"Am I?" She blinked. "Bilbo said you wanted to see me, so…"
"Indeed, but I did not mean for you to rush." He began rearranging an assortment of bottles on the worktable. "It is no matter. I am glad to have you as a student once again."
"I'm glad to be here." Lori joined him by the table and set her bag down, frowning at the seam that was beginning to tear. When Bilbo had told her that Erestor had wanted to see her, she'd come straight away—it wasn't like she had anything pressing on her agenda here. She guessed elves weren't too used to punctuality, since they literally had all the time in the world.
"Perhaps we should begin by assessing what you already know of healing," Erestor said.
He quizzed her on various herbs and her properties, then moved on to treatments for injuries. There were a handful that she stumbled on or aspects she hadn't learned, and Erestor paused every time she wanted to write something down.
"Your memory is sharp as ever, I see," he said once they'd finished, and Lori brightened. She wondered what it would have been like to have Erestor as her initial teacher instead of Adela.
He retrieved a couple dried sprigs of a plant with small leaves and delicate white flowers and held it out. "Are you familiar with athelas?"
"I've seen it before. The Bree-landers call it kingsfoil." Sheepishly, she added, "I usually weeded it out of the garden."
"Knowledge of the healing properties of athelas has long been lost to men, save the Dúnedain. Athelas can be used to ease pain and cure infections, and it is especially effective in healing wounds inflicted by the Shadow."
Trying not to sound too skeptical, Lori asked, "What does that mean?"
"In centuries past, these lands were assailed by wraiths, men cursed by a living death who could inflict despair and disease on their enemies. They used poisoned blades and wicked magic to turn other men into wraiths, or otherwise curse them to a slow and painful death."
An involuntary shiver ran down her spine. She had to remind herself that Erestor wasn't one to tell tales like the Bree-folk, and that he'd likely been alive to witness the events he was describing.
"I've heard rumors of ghosts in the wild lands outside Bree," she said. "Are you saying they're real?"
"The wraiths I speak of no longer haunt these lands. I deem it unlikely you will ever come into contact with one of their victims. But I entrust you with this knowledge nonetheless, because I know you would put it to good use should the occasion ever arise."
"Of course." She relaxed a little. "I'm honored to learn whatever you can teach me."
Now that she'd lived among men, she understood better just how fortunate she was to have access to this place. There was knowledge and power in Rivendell that couldn't be found anywhere else in the region, and it had been more by chance than anything that she'd been granted entry, that the elves were so welcome and trusting with her.
"I will show you how to prepare the herb."
Erestor began by stripping the leaves and crushing them into a powder, then added them to a bowl of hot water. A fragrant steam rose into the air, and Lori breathed in deeply.
"It smells like matcha."
He glanced at her. "I am unfamiliar with that word."
"It's a kind of tea I used to drink back home," she said with a pang of nostalgia. "It was one of my favorites."
A smile curved his lips. "Athelas carries a different scent for everyone. It often brings back pleasant memories."
A refreshing calm settled in her limbs. She felt energized, as if she'd woken from a restful night of sleep.
"What does it smell like for you?" she asked.
Something that might have been surprise flickered on his face. He spent a moment in silence.
"For me, it calls to mind the flowers I would gather in my youth. Alfirin. Mallos. Lissuin. It is rare to see them bloom these days."
Lori said nothing. She knew what the scent was for him—something pleasant, but a reminder of loss as well. She never would have expected to have something like that in common with an elf.
"This brew can be applied directly once it has cooled, or the steam can be inhaled to treat internal injuries," Erestor said after a stretch of silence. "Fresh leaves can be made into a paste, though it is not as effective."
Lori nodded and jotted down a couple of notes in her notebook. It was refreshing to be able to learn something new again, presented by the steady hand of a teacher. Though it had been useful to learn by experience in Bree, the uncertainty of it all had put her on edge.
"Now." Erestor set the bowl aside. "Are you ready to move on to surgical practices?"
She smiled. "I thought you'd never ask."
Dull gray clouds frosted over the sky.
Lori leaned back along the length of the bench, letting loose a foggy breath. It was unusually cold today, at least for Rivendell's standards. The chill of the marble beneath her was already beginning to seep through her clothes.
She'd tried to stay busy in the days since she'd arrived. Healing lessons with Erestor had taken up a decent amount of time, as had violin practice with Lindir and cozy afternoons with Bilbo. Arwen took her riding along frosty trails, and sometimes Aragorn joined them.
In the moments in between, she would sit in the cold until her ears were numb. She traded restlessness for discomfort and tried to wrestle with the tangle of her thoughts.
Her mind kept straying back to the night she'd done the same thing outside Adela's cottage.
I want to leave.
She didn't know that somewhere else would necessarily be better, as much as she'd tried to convince herself of that fact. But it would be different, it would give her something else to think about for however many months she could sustain it. If she didn't go soon, she wasn't sure she would be able to maintain the momentum to try at all.
Footsteps scuffed against the stone pathway, and she lifted her head.
"See anything interesting up there?" Aragorn asked as he approached.
"No." Lori sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bench. "I was just lost in thought."
"Pleasant thoughts, I hope."
She averted her gaze. Pleasant thoughts were a rarity these days. If someone else had made that remark, she might have tried to lie or brush it off, but it wasn't that easy with Aragorn. Sometimes she had the sense that he knew more about her feelings than he let on.
"Would you like to take a walk?" he asked, thankfully not pressing her for an answer to his previous comment.
"Sure." She stood up and tried discreetly to rub some warmth back into her fingers.
They set off towards the woods in comfortable silence. Out among the trees, he would teach her different birdcalls and point out animal tracks. Other times they talked about easy topics, or said nothing at all. With Aragorn, Lori never felt any pressure to break the silence—the conversation was there if she had something to say.
They passed beneath two towering pine trees, and fallen needles crunched beneath their footsteps. Lori blew out another smoky breath and watched it dissipate.
"I was thinking about my old home today."
Aragorn glanced at her. "You still miss it."
She nodded. The pangs of grief weren't as strong these days, and she felt stable enough to talk about it now.
"I was thinking about my funeral. If I had one." It still frustrated her that she didn't have the memory of her death, but she wasn't sure if that was enough to consider approaching Elrond. "I was thinking about who would be there, what people would say. I used to wish…"
There had been days when she'd wanted to bear witness to her own funeral, to see who had cared about her and how deeply. To see them regret the ways she'd been wronged. But the idea felt too childish to say out loud.
"Your people loved you," Aragorn said. "I have no doubt about that."
She looked up, surprised at his answer. "You never met my…people."
"You are kind and intelligent, and you've devoted your life to caring for others." He raised an eyebrow, as if he was stating the obvious. "I see no reason why they would not see a good heart for what it is."
Lori had to look away as tears stung her eyes. Suddenly her hypothetical eulogy didn't matter. Aragorn's opinion of her was clear and certain, and it was enough to hold close to her heart.
"Thanks," she managed.
Another stretch of silence passed while Lori composed herself. The clouds thickened overhead, and she wondered if it was going to snow. The most precipitation Rivendell ever experienced was a gentle rain, but she wouldn't have minded some white on the trees.
"It's kind of silly, but I also miss the things I had," she said after a while. "I miss my headphones."
"Headphones?"
"I would use them to listen to music. I could listen to anything I wanted, as loud as I wanted. It was really relaxing."
"Where did the music come from?"
"These devices." Lori held out one hand to indicate the approximate shape. "It used to be just mp3 players, but most people use their phones nowadays."
Aragorn's brow furrowed. "They are instruments?"
"Not really." She gestured vaguely, trying to find the best way to explain it. "Well, with an instrument, a certain string plays a corresponding note, right? We had computers that could record the frequencies of those notes, store that data, and then play it back."
His lips quirked. "And yet you claim your world has no magic."
"It's not magic," she said with a good-natured eye-roll. "It's just that only a few people fully understand how the technology works."
"Just as there are only a few who truly understand the workings of magic."
"All right, fine." She held up her hands in concession. "I miss my magic mp3 player."
Something glimmered through the trees and caught her eye. She squinted at it, and caught a far-off golden glow.
"Do you see that?"
"See what?" Aragorn responded.
She frowned at him, but he was focused on scanning the trees. Even if the valley was safe from bandits and monsters, she considered it highly unlikely that he would fail to observe something out of the ordinary.
As they continued along the path, more lights became visible. They resembled the glowing lanterns that illuminated Rivendell at night, but she'd never seen them in the woods before. Lori pointed them out.
"You see them now?"
"Perhaps we should investigate," Aragorn said lightly.
She cast another dubious look at him, then shrugged off her concern. She'd never had a reason to fear for her safety in Rivendell, and she trusted Aragorn's judgement.
A chorus of low, murmuring voices became audible as they drew closer. A handful of elves were gathered among the lights in a clearing not too far away, and Lori's eyes widened.
In the center of the clearing was a tall pine that had been decorated with lanterns and silvery ribbons and crystalline ornaments. Lindir was seated in a corner, focused on tuning his harp before he began to play a light, cheerful melody. A few of the elves greeted them with polite smiles, and Arwen went to meet them. She was dressed in a velvety coat of deep red, and the light of the lanterns glimmered against her dark hair.
"Your cheeks are red from the cold," she said, smoothing a stray lock of hair on Lori's head. "Come warm yourself. I am glad you've decided to share these traditions from your homeland."
There was only one person she had told about said traditions. Lori turned to Aragorn. "Did…Did you set this up?"
"I thought you might take comfort in a reminder of your old home," Aragorn said with a slight nod. "I have tried to recreate what you told me the best I could."
"With some help, of course." Bilbo appeared on his other side and handed Lori a flask. "I used to be quite talented at planning parties back when I lived in the Shire. There hasn't been much use for it here, but I'd like to think I haven't lost my touch."
Lori looked up at the glimmering tree, then back at the people gathered beside her, and felt a lump at the back of her throat. They'd done this all for her.
"This is…" She blinked and cleared her throat. "This is really, really nice. I… Thank you."
Aragorn smiled and squeezed her shoulder.
Bilbo only waved her off. "Well, go on. Drink up!"
The flask was filled with spiced wine, but even before she'd taken her first sip, the cold had already left her. She'd nearly forgotten what it was like to feel so content.
"I do not believe you told me what this day is meant to celebrate," Aragorn said.
"Uh, it means different things to different people." Lori swirled the wine inside her flask. "Most people have religious connections to the holiday. For me, it's more about enjoying yourself and spending time with family."
"That's reason enough for me." Bilbo pulled out his pipe and raised it in a toast.
Lori laughed and copied his gesture with her flask. She was sure she would get some enjoyment out of today, especially with Bilbo around, but speaking the words aloud had confirmed something for her.
This was her family. Even if they weren't all of the same race, and she was from a different world, she knew these were people she could rely on, who had cared for her without asking for anything in return. More than Rivendell or any of the other places she'd been, that was home.
Arwen and Aragorn took a moment to themselves, and Lori kept company with Bilbo for a while. They chatted about past parties and compared notes on the similarities between their respective winter holidays. It was like Aragorn had said—there were definite likenesses between them, enough that she wondered if it was just coincidence.
She chose not to dwell on it, instead meandering among the other elves at the celebration, savoring light conversation and the wine in her flask. It wasn't long before she found herself next to Lindir, leaning against a tree and watching him coax a winding melody out of his harp.
When the song finished and the final notes had faded into the air, he turned aside and said, "Would you like to try?"
"All right." Besides the violin, she didn't have much experience with other instruments, except for fooling around on her friend's ukulele back home. She'd stayed away from new instruments in Rivendell, afraid of embarrassing herself, but today felt easy. Maybe it was the wine, but she wasn't as scared of fumbling her way around harp strings.
Lindir moved from his stool so she could take his place and instructed her on where to place her hands. Her fingers snagged on the strings more than once as he guided her through a simple progression of notes, but her hands grew steadier after several tries. She wished she had the sheet music for a Christmas song.
She sat back and massaged the tips of her fingers. She'd only built up calluses on her left hand, and even those had started to fade.
"How come we've never done a duet?" she asked.
Lindir tilted his head. "You've never asked."
She hadn't, and for good reason—it would be impossible not to compare herself to a master musician if they were playing together. But the thought didn't concern her as much as it had before.
"Perhaps we should, someday," she said.
He gave her the same considering glance he'd worn the first day she'd returned. "You know where to find me when that someday arrives."
She wasn't sure if he was teasing her or not, but she smiled anyway and stood up. "Well, I won't subject everyone to my harp-playing anymore. But I'm glad you could come. This is…" She glanced up at the tree. "This made me really happy."
"Aragorn cares for you greatly," Lindir said. "And it was not difficult for him to convince the rest of us to partake in this celebration."
Gratitude swelled within her, almost painful in its intensity. She searched for him in the clearing, and found him standing at the base of the pine. He met her gaze and beckoned her over.
"One second," she said to Lindir, and went to join Aragorn by the tree.
There was warmth in his gaze, and as she approached, he lifted an object wrapped in soft gray cloth.
"I believe another aspect of this holiday is gift-giving."
"Oh, god." Lori put her face in her hands, ears burning. "It's not supposed to be a surprise, though. I-I didn't think to get anything for anyone—"
"Nonsense," Bilbo said. "This is your tradition we're all enjoying, and I'd say that's enough of a gift, if anyone was expecting something in return."
She lifted her head and could see in her periphery the others watching, waiting for her reaction. Her cheeks grew hotter, and she hoped any redness on her face could be explained away by the cold.
Not wanting to prolong the moment any further, she accepted the package from Aragorn and untied the knot that bound the corners of the cloth. Inside was a leather bag, embossed with swirling designs reminiscent of leaves.
Someone must have noticed that her old cloth bag was coming apart at the seams. A leather bag would better protect her belongings from getting wet, too. She couldn't hold back a smile as she lifted the flap to peer inside. There were several small pockets sewn on the inside—the perfect size for the herb bottles she carried. On the other side was a flap of fabric with small loops meant for surgical tools that could be rolled up and tied securely.
"This is incredible." Lori realized she was grinning as she closed the bag and lifted her gaze. "Thank you." She hugged Aragorn, and he squeezed her shoulders.
"It is Arwen who deserves your thanks," he said. "That bag is her handiwork."
Lori turned to Arwen, eyes wide. "You made this?"
She'd never known that the elf had any skill in sewing or working with leather—but she was at least a few centuries old, and it made sense that she'd have a number of hidden talents.
"Thank you. This is beautiful." Lori embraced Arwen next, and the elf folded her into her arms with a musical laugh.
"I know you will use it well, Lori." When they pulled apart, Arwen brushed a lock of hair from Lori's face with gentle fingers. "You have the soul of a healer. It is a gift I have seen in few others."
For the first time, Lori felt a patterned texture on the strap of the bag, and looked down. Embossed in the leather were a few words in graceful Tengwar lettering:
O môr henion i dhû.
Some of her joy faded into quiet introspection. Not for the first time, she wondered at how Arwen was able to see her more clearly than anyone else in the clearing.
She lifted her head, hoping she could convey with her gaze that she understood. This was a gift that would serve her in a practical way, but there was a reminder in the words Arwen had imprinted. They were a shield, too, from her darker thoughts.
Lori tucked the bag away as the party resumed. A group of elves brought large trays of fragrant meat pies, roasted chicken, fruit, nuts, and more spiced wine. Elrond and Erestor joined the festivities briefly, the former mentioning that it reminded him of celebrations in ages past.
As the daylight began to wane, Lori found herself sitting next to Aragorn, pleasantly tipsy and relaxed. She found herself touching her bag more than once, admiring the softness of the leather and the intricate details on its surface.
"Thank you again for today." She folded her arms across her knees. "I've never had anyone throw a surprise party for me before."
"I am glad I was able to lift your spirits," Aragorn said with a small smile. "Even if it did take you off guard."
She looked away as she caught on to the full meaning of his words. He'd noticed something was wrong. She'd tried her best not to let it show, but she wasn't perfect at it.
"Whatever it is that troubles you, I will listen," he said.
Lori chewed on her lip for a moment. "I feel terrible for saying this after…after everything today."
"Speak your mind."
As always, there was no judgement in his voice. Her anxiety had lessened somewhat when it came to discussing her feelings with him. Nonetheless, she took a deep breath before she spoke.
"I don't think I want to return to Bree when winter ends. And I…I don't know if I want to stay in Rivendell, either."
"You are looking for something that you have not found in Bree."
She nodded, glad that he understood. "I know you've mentioned finding a place to stay there, but I don't know if that would help." She hesitated, then forged on. "I've been thinking a little of the kingdoms to the south. Gondor and Rohan. I know they're farther than any place I've been, but…"
"What is it you hope to find there?"
Something different. The answer felt too vague, too desperate to say aloud, so she only gave a small shrug. "I'd have to do some more research before making any decisions. And I don't have much confidence that I could make the journey on my own."
"It is a dangerous journey through the Wild," Aragorn said. "I do not know if things have changed since last I was in Rohan, but the villages on the western border are sometimes raided by Wildmen."
She looked up. "You've been to Rohan?"
He nodded. "I lived there for a time, when I was younger. I spent some years in Gondor, as well."
There was another facet of his life he'd kept hidden. Lori knew it wasn't fair to expect his entire history, but he kept managing to surprise her when she least expected it.
"Well, how was it? Did you prefer one over the other?"
"It would not be fair to judge one against the other. The people of Rohan are wilder, but they have a fierce sense of loyalty, and their skill with horses is unmatched in Middle-earth. The people of Gondor are disciplined and wise, and it is their courage that protects other lands from the darkness of Mordor. They are both great kingdoms."
Lori could hear a deep respect and affection in his voice, and it heightened the curiosity within her. She mulled over his words and the implications behind them. There was some amount of strife in both Rohan and Gondor, enemies that threatened their respective borders. Something Gandalf had told her months ago drifted to the forefront of her mind. Where warriors were needed, so too were healers, even if their role was sometimes overlooked.
Perhaps that was what she had been missing. She was needed where there was danger, where soldiers spilled blood in service of something greater than themselves.
She thought back to the painting in the library. If she couldn't conjure a light for herself, perhaps she could still be a light for someone else.
"Tell me what you are thinking," Aragorn said, drawing her out of her reverie.
Idly, her fingers brushed against her new bag. "I wonder if I'd be more useful in the south, where they really need healers."
"You are doing good work among the people here."
"I…I know. Sometimes it's hard to remember that."
She wouldn't take any of it back, not even the assholes that she'd treated from time to time. But she wanted meaning, wanted danger and heroism and whatever else it took to keep her busy. Somewhere within that chaos had to be whatever she was missing.
When she looked back at Aragorn, there was a small frown on his face, but it vanished before she could parse its meaning.
The engraving on Lori's gift means "From darkness I understand the night" in Sindarin. It's a lyric from Aníron, the song that plays during Aragorn and Arwen's scenes. Those lyrics are not from canon, but I like to imagine Aragorn and Arwen picked out those words for Lori together. It feels fitting to me since they're kind of like her Middle-earth parents :)
Anyway, we're getting very close to that new plot arc I keep talking about. I'm excited to (eventually) introduce a canon character who has a really similar emotional trajectory to Lori, and I can't wait to have them as foils for each other. Any guesses as to who that might be?