Chapter 18

A week later, Aragorn found her in the library. Lori was curled up in a chair near the fireplace, idly perusing a book about Gondor's history. She was drawn to the illustrations of towering cities, their size impressive even at the foot of the mountains. During her travels in Middle-earth, she'd only seen ruins, suggestions of past grandeur. The idea that such monuments were still standing intrigued her.

She turned the book so Aragorn could see the picture that had captured her attention. "Is this what Minas Tirith really looks like?"

He leaned forward to get a better look, then nodded. "It is. Though an illustration does not do justice to the size of the city."

She traced the lines of ink with her thumb. "It almost reminds me of the skyscrapers back home."

Aragorn took a seat across from her. "Skyscrapers?"

"They were these really tall buildings near where I lived. It was impressive to see from a distance, but once you got into the city proper, you would sort of forget they were there." She tapped the drawing of Minas Tirith. "I wonder what it would be like to live in a place like this."

"You truly wish to go south."

It was spoken as a statement, not a question, but when Lori looked up, Aragorn was watching her closely, his expression unreadable.

"I mean, it's mostly wishful thinking." She smiled wryly. "It's not like I can just catch a train to Gondor."

"I could take you there."

She blinked. "What?"

"I have business in the south, and my path would take me through Rohan. If you wish to find work there, I will take you with me."

She frowned, half-afraid to believe him. "That's a long way. Why do you need to travel all the way to Rohan?"

Aragorn turned his face to the fire. "I trust you, Lori, but it is a mission that requires utmost secrecy. I do not want to give you an answer that could put you in danger."

Her frown deepened. Whatever he needed to take care of involved something bigger than guarding the northern lands. She thought back to Gandalf's visit and wondered if that had anything to do with this secret mission.

"So you need to do something somewhere in the south, and you could take me to Rohan along the way," she said.

"Yes. And I must leave tonight—I cannot delay my departure any longer." He met her eyes. "I do not want you to make a decision unless you are absolutely certain."

The full implications of his offer hit her then. Her journey to Rohan would be a one-way trip, unless she found someone she trusted enough to take her back to Bree-land. After Aragorn finished his task—assuming he survived whatever was involved—he would return to the north, and they would never see each other again. She would lose all the friends she'd made here.

There were a hundred reasons she had to stay, but just the glimpse of a possibility for something different had filled her with a lurch of adrenaline. It was the same feeling she'd had standing on the coupling of that otherworldly train: the promise of something steady and permanent countered by the urge to leap into the unknown.

That feeling scared her, and she closed the book in her lap. "Can I have a few hours to think it over? I promise I'll give you an answer before tonight."

"All right. I will leave you in peace, then."

Aragorn stood up from his chair. Lori took a breath to say something, and he paused.

Is this what you want for me?

She swallowed the words back before she could speak them aloud. It wouldn't be fair to ask something like that. She gave him a small, awkward smile.

"I'll talk to you later."

Once Aragorn had left the library, Lori drew her knees up to her chest and stared at the fire until its slender flames were imprinted in her vision. Aragorn was giving her a chance she likely wouldn't ever have again. He cared about her enough to make the offer—even if it meant they wouldn't see each other again.

But even if she stayed…these peaceful days in Rivendell were more of a dream than anything. Aragorn still had his duties as a Ranger, and every time they parted was a gamble at another reunion.

I can't stay here.

She'd said something along those lines before she'd jumped from the train, fueled by panic and a fear of…of staying, of continuing on that train. The thought of an afterlife had scared her more than a drop into endless mist.

Something like deja vu pressed against the back of her skull, and Lori rubbed her forehead with the tips of her fingers. This time was different. It wasn't fear driving her away from Bree-land, it was the desire for something more. Glorfindel had asked her what she was going to do with her second chance, and now she had the opportunity to go through with it.

This time, she wouldn't be running away.

The full moon was perched at the highest ridge of the valley, like a spectator to their departure.

The news that she was leaving for Rohan had traveled more quickly than she'd expected. Bilbo had come to her first, and it had taken most of her willpower to hold her tears back as she embraced him for the last time.

"I knew you'd be off on your own adventure sooner or later," he'd said with a fond smile. "It is a wide and dangerous world out there, but there is a lot of good to be found as well. I hope you'll remember that."

"I will. I won't ever forget you, Bilbo, or the stories you've told me. Thank you for everything."

"It has been a pleasure, dear." And he'd pulled her in for another hug, with more strength than she'd thought possible.

To her surprise, Erestor intercepted her on her way to the entrance courtyard and handed a pair of bottles to her.

"A couple of parting gifts for your journey."

She inspected the first one, which contained a number of small, dried leaves. "Is this athelas?"

"It is. I do not know if it can be found in the south these days, so I would advise you to use it sparingly."

"I will." She lifted the second bottle, which was filled with a yellowish liquid she could only describe as the color of spring.

"Miruvor." There was a hint of pride in Erestor's voice, the first she'd heard from him. "The recipe has been refined over thousands of years and requires nearly two hundred kinds of herbs—else I would have taught you about its preparation."

Her fingers tightened around the vial as though he'd handed her a brick of solid gold. "What is it for?"

"It is for you." When she glanced up at him in confusion, he continued, "The cordial is used to renew strength and energy, but I did not give it to you for use on a patient." He fixed her with a stern glance. "I have found no flaw in your practice as a healer—you are disciplined and intelligent—but you are lacking in the selfishness that is often abundant in humans."

Lori supposed that was his elvish way of telling her to take care of herself. Before she could stop herself, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. Erestor stiffened in surprise, making her pull back a second later, but a small smile graced his lips.

"Novaer, Lori."

"Novaer. And thank you for everything."

Just like the last time she'd departed from Rivendell, Elrond, Arwen, and Aragorn were waiting for her in the entrance courtyard. Lori touched the strap of her new bag and went forth to meet them with renewed confidence.

"I wish you safe travels," Lord Elrond said. "You are always welcome in Rivendell, if your path brings you northward again."

Lori gave him a grateful smile, though it was tinged with bittersweetness. Something deep-rooted in her soul told her this was the last time she would see the elvish city, though she would never forget her time here.

This would also be her last chance to ask Elrond to help her recover her lost memories. She held the issue in her mind one last time, then let it go. This was her chance to finally move on from the past, and she needed to make peace with everything she was about to leave behind.

Arwen stepped forward next, drawing Lori into a warm, comforting embrace. A pang of loss jabbed at her heart—wherever she went, she didn't think she'd ever find the same warmth and compassion that Arwen had offered her. She hugged her back tightly, searching in vain for the right words to contain her gratitude.

They pulled apart, and Arwen touched her chin. "Go in peace, henig. I wish you only joy and love, wherever your path takes you."

Lori took her hand and squeezed it. "I wish the same for you."

And then it was time. There were horses for both of them—Aragorn's brown steed and a gray mare named Hithui for Lori. After she pulled herself into the saddle, she turned around for one last look at Rivendell. She took in the windows of the library where she'd spent evenings with Bilbo, the roof of the veranda where she'd played violin.

Though she had a future now to look forward to, the goodbye didn't hurt any less.

She turned back to the path, and Aragorn sent her a questioning glance—not quite an, Are you ready? and more of an, Are you sure?

She shot him a reassuring smile, hoping it didn't look too strained. Now that the moment was upon her, she knew for certain that if she didn't take this chance, she would regret it forever.

They nudged their horses forward and melted into the embrace of the night.

Their journey south took them into a wild land dotted with holly trees. Rising from the hills were a number of ruined stone structures, most of them little more than outlines of walls and stumps of moss-covered pillars. After they passed two in the same day, Lori finally asked aloud what they were.

"This land was once ruled by elves," Aragorn said. "Elrond was among them, as were the Lord and Lady of Lothlórien. But their kingdom was destroyed, and those that remained found refuge in other realms."

"It's sad that there's only ruins left," she said, thinking back to the watchtower the Rangers used as a refuge. "Do you think the elves will ever come back?"

"No," Aragorn said, his tone equal parts mournful and certain. "The dominion of elves over this world has passed. There will come a time when they are rarely seen, if at all, in Middle-earth."

Lori frowned. "How can that be, if they're immortal?"

"Immortal, not invulnerable. The wars of past centuries have diminished their strength. And while they may live for millennia, most elves choose to have only a handful of children over the course of their lives."

"I see," she said softly. It was so unlike her own world, where populations had exploded over the past couple of centuries. The entire population of Bree probably could have fit in one block in New York City.

"All things come to an end," Aragorn said, not unkindly. "And there is still much life to be found in the world. You will see for yourself when we reach Rohan."

She perked up somewhat at that. "So, what is it like there? You mentioned horses."

"The Rohirrim take great pride in their steeds. They have bred them to be strong and swift, and those that die in battle are given as much honor as a fallen soldier."

"So I'm guessing everyone there knows how to ride a horse?"

"You are correct."

"Then I'm glad I learned, too." She paused. "I should have asked this earlier, but do they speak Westron there?"

"They have their own language, Rohirric. But most in the cities and eastern provinces speak Westron as well."

She cursed under her breath. "I should have brought a book or something so I could learn. Do you know anything you could teach me?"

Aragorn frowned at her. "I can teach you what I know of the language, but no one will expect you to speak Rohirric when you arrive."

"All right. I just…" She sighed. "My parents moved to my old home from somewhere really far away, and they were treated differently for it. They made sure I spoke the language perfectly growing up so I wouldn't get the same level of harassment. But I would still get treated differently just because of the way I looked." She shrugged. "I don't want to stand out any more than I already will."

He nodded, considering her answer for a moment. "The Rohirrim can be wary of outsiders at times, especially those from the west. But they judge a woman by her deeds above all else. I have no doubt you will gain their respect in time."

She relaxed, reminding herself that Aragorn knew more about the Rohirrim than she did. "Why did you end up living in Rohan?"

"I wanted to learn about their people, and aid their king if I could. I did the same in Gondor for some years afterward."

A smile twitched on her face. "Like a study abroad."

He raised an eyebrow, questioning her with a look.

"It's something students would do back home. They'd go live and study in a different country for a while, to learn about a different place and have fun."

"Did you ever do such a thing?"

Lori shook her head. "Couldn't fit it into my course schedule. I'd never been fifty miles from my home before I came here."

"You never returned to the homeland of your parents?"

"You know, I used to get that question a lot," Lori said, unable to keep the exasperation out of her voice. "And I don't want to visit a place just because my ancestors lived there. I mean, I don't have any real connection to somewhere I've never been, but people will still judge me by the way I look and assume I'm a foreigner." She huffed out a sigh. "Sorry. I know you don't have any context for what I'm talking about."

"It's all right. I agree that it is an undue burden to place expectations on someone because of the blood they carry. I am sorry that you have experienced such prejudices."

She shook her head. It was fine trying to explain headphones and cars, but she didn't feel up to tackling racism and diaspora. "Don't worry about it. Things are completely different in this world. It's just something I carry with me."

"You should hold on to it," Aragorn said with a significant look.

Lori turned her gaze to the landscape around them, to the ruins that were gradually disappearing behind a hill. These lands were marked by remnants of a time that had passed forever, just as she carried memories of a life she could never return to.

Absently, she rested one hand on her thigh. There were some things she'd rather let fade.

When Lori returned from filling up her waterskin in the small stream near their camp, she found Aragorn bent over a small map, only a little larger than a sheet of printer paper. He had a candle close by to work with a decent light—though the days were growing longer, evenings were still shrouded in shadow.

"Planning the rest of our route?" Lori asked, walking over to where she'd deposited her pack.

Aragorn only hummed in acknowledgement, so she decided to leave him to his task for the moment. She replaced her waterskin in her pack and took a moment to study the rest of its contents. Everything was much more organized now, thanks to Arwen's clever design. The athelas was tucked among the rest of her herb bottles, as was the bottle of miruvor. Her notebook had remained mostly untouched since her last lesson with Erestor, but she was sure she'd get more use out of it once she started up healing again.

She rose again to build a fire. By the time the sky had settled into the deep purples of late twilight, Aragorn had stowed the map away with the rest of his belongings. Lori wondered if he had been looking at Rohan or whatever location he needed to reach for his secret mission. A part of her itched to look at the map herself, but she put the thought out of her head.

His task had given her an idea, though. "Do any messengers pass between Rohan and the north?" she asked.

"Less often than they once did," Aragorn said. "And I imagine it would be quite expensive to hire a messenger for such a distance."

Lori nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. Of course that would be too easy.

"You wished to send letters to Rivendell?"

"Rivendell and Bree-land," she said. "There are a few people I would have wanted to keep in touch with."

"Such as Faeron?"

Her head snapped up, and Aragorn shot her a knowing smile. She didn't even have time to be embarrassed before guilt roiled in her gut.

"Shit." She rubbed her brow. "I didn't even tell him I was leaving."

She hadn't even thought to. During the weeks since she'd arrived in Rivendell, since she'd headed south, how many times had he crossed her mind? She tried to reach back to that part of her mind that had lingered on him, the part that made her heart flutter, but it felt like poking a dead animal.

What the hell was wrong with her?

"I will tell him when I return to the north," Aragorn said, and she nodded numbly.

Evidently, that wasn't the reaction he'd been looking for, and Lori finally looked up as he moved to sit beside her.

"Are you all right?" His gaze was gentle, assessing, but she couldn't bring herself to meet his eyes.

"I'm fine," she said, forcing what she hoped was an appropriate amount of nonchalance into her words. That strange, itching tingle returned to the skin on her thighs. "It's been a busy few weeks."

"You are not wrong to feel guilty or upset."

A small, awful part of her wondered if Aragorn was baiting her, if this was a trap meant to provoke an outburst, but she shoved the thought away. He would never do something like that. His words were genuine—it wouldn't be wrong for her to show that she was upset.

But if she stopped hiding those feelings now, it wouldn't take long for him to realize that was all that existed inside of her. That she bruised far too easily, like spoiled fruit. Even his tolerance would have a limit.

"I know it's not wrong to be upset," she said, trying to keep her voice even. "But I still have to control how I react to my feelings."

That was the one lesson she'd struggled most to learn. It had taken years of her father snapping at her every time tears would fall, her mother raising a disapproving stare at the slightest sign of frustration, for her to come to terms with it. There was no way she knew to control the way she felt, but she'd learned to do her damnedest to hide it.

She was scared to find out what kind of person she would be if she stopped.

"That is a fair notion," Aragorn said quietly. "But I do not want you to hurt yourself in doing so."

Her mouth went dry. There was no way he could know. No one in the entirety of Middle-earth had seen, and she definitely hadn't told anyone. He was speaking abstractly, and she was being paranoid.

"I'll be fine."

They would be crossing into Rohan soon, and she didn't want him to worry about her when they finally parted.

After that…she would be fine. At the very least, she would pretend to be.

Footnotes since I have a lot of thoughts about this chapter:

1. I keep thinking back to the scene with Glorfindel from Chapter 7. (To the reader who loved that scene, I see you and I'm sorry I haven't brought him back). I kind of threw in that conversation randomly but I think the questions he asks, "What do you want?" and "What are you going to do with your second chance?" are really central to the conflict Lori is facing right now.

2. So this is where I can finally pinpoint this story on the general LOTR timeline. Though I didn't directly state it, Aragorn is setting out to search for Gollum, which in canon happens in 3017. The Fellowship sets out from Rivendell at the end of 3018. This fic will eventually intersect with the LOTR storyline, but we still have a ways to go before we get there.

3. The name of Lori's horse, Hithui, comes from the Sindarin name for November and also means "misty" or "foggy."

4. Unfortunately Faeron is out of the story for now, but that's not to say he won't ever show up again. More on that later.

5. I've been gradually compiling a playlist for this fic, and Second Chances by Gregory Alan Isakov is a perfect theme song for Lori and Aragorn's relationship. Give it a listen!