Chapter 19

Spring finally cracked open the cold earth, and flowers bloomed amid the tall grass. There was a wild beauty in this land that Lori had never seen before—there were fewer trees here to crowd the area, and the hills seemed to roll on endlessly before colliding with the horizon. It was more space than she'd ever seen back in New York.

A gust of wind brushed her hair back, and Lori closed her eyes, savoring the sensation.

"I never thought I'd say something like this, but it smells good out here." It was earthy and floral and free somehow, as if the life growing here was able to breathe without inhibition.

"It has been many years since anyone but the occasional traveler touched this land," Aragorn said. "There's no trace of woodsmoke or tar, no waste but what the animals leave…"

"You prefer this kind of place over a city?"

He tilted his head, as though considering her question. "There is peace out here that you cannot find in a city, but there is loneliness too." He was silent for a moment. "It is the work of more than one man to renew an abandoned place."

Lori hummed in agreement. "There weren't any ruins in my country, but in other parts of the world, people would just build up cities around them. They just became part of the landscape."

Aragorn glanced at her. "Your country has no ruins?"

"It's…a long story, but no. Most of the more permanent structures were built fairly recently."

And how. She tried to picture her old city abandoned, all cracked glass and concrete, green finally seeping through the gray.

"I would have loved to have a little more of this where I lived." She gestured at the sprawling plains around them. "My friends and I used to visit this park nearby and ride around the lake." She let out a nostalgic sigh.

"I thought you had never ridden a horse before coming here."

"Oh, we were on bikes. They have two wheels and a seat, and you just…" She gestured vaguely with her hands. "Whatever. You could build up a decent amount of speed, though. It was nice."

Aragorn regarded her with a small smile. "Did Arwen ever teach you how to gallop?"

"No," she said, dragging out the syllable. "We got up to a trot once, and that was enough for me." When he raised his eyebrows, she shook her head vehemently. "I really don't feel like breaking my neck today."

"Hithui would not let you fall. And it would earn you some favor with the Rohirrim if you knew how to ride properly."

I already know how to ride properly, Lori grumbled inwardly, then took a deep breath. At the moment she was more concerned with not disappointing Aragorn than appeasing her future neighbors.

"All right. Don't I have to sit a certain way?"

Aragorn demonstrated the correct stance—meant to lessen the stress on the horse as well as keep her own balance. Once she had the hang of it, he sat back and looked her over.

"Ready?"

She suppressed a grimace and shifted in her saddle. "Sure."

"Hithui will follow my lead."

That was all the warning she received before Aragorn spurred his horse forward with a cry. Hithui followed suit, picking up speed in a matter of seconds. The wind began to rush past her ears. Lori remembered to lift herself from the saddle, and fought the urge to squeeze her eyes shut as her grip on the reins tightened.

They were flying. A rush of air carded rough fingers through her hair, the golden grass beneath her turning into a blur. Her breaths came in time with Hithui's, each pound of her hooves sending a small jolt through her body.

This was nothing like riding a bike or driving a car with the windows down. It was rough and breathless and twice as exhilarating. Aragorn glanced back at her, and she realized she was grinning.

When they finally slowed to a walk, she let out a hoarse laugh and pushed her tangled hair from her face.

"Okay, you were right. That was fun."

"I am glad to hear that," Aragorn said, not seeming half as out of breath as she was.

"That you were right or that it was fun?"

He chuckled before his expression turned more serious. "That you are willing to take the occasional risk."

"Well, it helps to have someone I can depend on," she replied, and tried not to think about how they would be parting ways in a few weeks' time.

Aragorn nodded, that same shadow falling across his face that she'd seen during their Christmas celebration in Rivendell.

Her exhilaration and joy from the gallop faded, as softly and quietly as morning dew on a hot day. She looked down at her hands, at the grass, searching for anything that would let her think of something else.

But she found nothing, and she didn't like the silence that fell between them afterwards.

Lori shielded her eyes against the light of the rising sun and gazed out at the unending sea of grass stretching into the distance. They'd forded the River Isen about an hour ago, which meant they were more or less officially in Rohan. It looked just as Aragorn had described, all rolling plains cradled by towering mountains.

It made the world feel frighteningly large.

With each passing day, her anticipation grew, and passing into Rohan proper had only doubled it. She dreaded the moment she would finally have to say goodbye to Aragorn. When the feeling started to overwhelm her, she tried to focus on what she could look forward to in Rohan, how this was what she had wanted in the first place.

Aragorn straightened in his saddle, his attention focused on the horizon. Lori squinted in that direction, but she couldn't see anything besides grass. She guessed that his ears had picked up something before hers, which made sense since she'd spent several years blasting music at a less-than-healthy volume.

Before she could ask what had caught his attention, the noise reached her ears. It started as a low rumble, like something large and heavy moving across the ground. A wide shape materialized through the spring haze.

A company of at least a hundred riders was charging across the plain towards them. Lori marveled at the amount of dust they churned up in their wake, before she was struck by a feeling akin to standing in the path of a train.

"Should…Should we move?" she asked. Hithui shifted in response to her anxiousness.

"We'll stand our ground," Aragorn said, his voice steady even now. "They won't harm us."

The riders kept their speed as they drew nearer, and Lori gripped the reins until her knuckles were white. It was only her trust in Aragorn that kept her from panicking completely.

Without warning, the company parted like river water around a rock, and surrounded them in one fluid movement. The horses came to a halt nearly in unison, and Lori covered her nose as a cloud of dust swept past.

The riders all wore helmets, some decorated with long tails of what looked like horse hair. The low brows of their headgear made them look foreboding and wild, and she fought the urge to lower her gaze. Their armor and the coats of their mounts were coated in dust, and once the air had cleared, her nose caught the familiar scent of blood.

One of the men came forward and removed his helmet. He looked to be in his early forties, with blond hair and a broad jaw.

"It is rare to see mounted riders coming out of the west," he said, his voice strong and clear. "What business do you have in the Mark?"

"I am Strider, and this is Lori," Aragorn said. "We come from the northlands. We seek safe passage through Rohan."

He'd introduced himself with a nickname, Lori noted with a sidelong glance. She'd never asked him why he was hesitant to give his true name to strangers, and had later guessed it had to do with protecting his identity as chieftain. But it seemed unlikely that men this far south would know about that.

"I did not expect to see such a large éored so far from the Golden Hall," Aragorn continued.

The man who seemed to be their leader cocked an eyebrow at the terms obviously familiar to the Rohirrim. "The Wildmen have grown bolder in their attacks on border villages. It is the duty of the king to be vigilant."

"I see you must have skirmished with them recently." Aragorn shifted his gaze to one of the riders, who had a red-stained bandage wrapped around one arm. "If your men are in need of a healer, my companion would be happy to assist you."

Oh. He's talking about me. Lori felt her face grow hot as several of the men turned to her. Aragorn had chosen not to mention his own skills in healing—he was giving her a chance to prove herself.

"I have supplies to stitch wounds and treat infections," she said, inwardly cringing as her voice wavered. She wasn't sure who to direct her words to, so she locked eyes with the leader. "And I can see to any other medical needs your men have."

He regarded her with an unreadable expression, then nodded. He raised his voice to address the others: "We will make camp near the crossroads."

The riders followed his lead in turning eastward. Though they didn't move in any visible formation, there was still a fluidity and coordination in the way they advanced, like a school of fish or a flock of birds. As Aragorn spurred his horse forward, he shot her a reassuring look.

The two of them rode towards the back, which meant Lori arrived at their intended campsite with a healthy coating of dust. She made a mental note to clean her hands the best she could before taking out any of her supplies.

The Rohirrim were already making themselves comfortable, some bringing their horses to drink at the nearby stream, while others stretched and shook out their long hair from where it had been trapped beneath their helmets. From the ground, Lori noticed that the men were tall and well-built, most of them at least six feet tall. It made her feel tiny. She looked to Aragorn for guidance, but he was chatting quietly with one of the riders.

When she turned away, she noticed the leader making his way towards her, his helmet tucked under one arm.

"Lori, is it?"

"Yes." She squared her shoulders. He had the sort of demeanor that made one want to stand up straight.

"I am Théodred, Second Marshal of the Mark. I've told the injured men to gather near the stream." He motioned in that direction with his chin.

She recognized the title from what Aragorn had told her about Rohan. The marshals were the highest ranking military officials aside from the king himself. She briefly debated addressing him as "sir," then decided against it.

"Is there anyone in need of immediate attention?" she asked.

"Thankfully, none of their injuries are severe. If you are in need of any supplies, you need only ask."

"Thank you." After a moment of hesitation, she gave him a small, awkward bow and hurried towards the stream.

There were less than a dozen men gathered by the water, most of them nursing injured limbs. She trusted Théodred's judgement on the condition of his men, but she still did a quick scan to see if there were any relatively serious cases. They'd all managed to ride here on their own, at least.

She settled on a dark-skinned man holding a wadded bandage over his eye. He looked her over with his good eye as she approached.

"My name is Lori. I'm a healer. Do you mind if I take a look at your eye?"

"All right." He made to remove the bandage, but she held out a hand to stop him.

"Wait a second." She motioned for him to turn so his back was to the setting sun. "I don't want the light to shock your eye."

"You can start by telling me if it's still there," he replied, and a few of the others chuckled.

Lori smiled stiffly and reached out for the bandage. It would make sense for men who faced death and violence to cope with a few morbid jokes.

The skin beneath the bandage was too bloodied for her to see the condition of his eye. She set to cleaning it away as gently as she could.

"How did this happen?"

"A spear," the man said. "Or half of it, anyway. I cut the shaft before the head could pierce me, but the rest of it went—" He motioned towards his face.

Lori made a mental note to check for wood splinters and continued with her cleaning. The skin around his eye was swollen, and she hoped it was just from the impact and not a sign of infection.

"You seen a Wildman before?" asked a man with thick red hair and a bandaged hand.

"We were fortunate enough not to run into any while we were traveling south." Lori shifted her patient's head towards the light, and frowned at a small, pointed object protruding from the skin just above his eyelid. "You'll need to watch this for signs of infection. If it starts to feel hot or you run a fever, you need to get a healer right away."

"You came here with your father?" the redhead asked.

"Yes." Lori reached into her bag for her tweezers, then paused. "I-I mean, no. He just offered to accompany me to Rohan."

"No husband?" asked the man with the injured eye.

"No," she repeated, trying not to sound annoyed. She wasn't sure if they were asking out of concern that she was traveling without a family member, or if their intentions were less than honorable. Instead of pondering that further, she put all her focus in extracting the splinters from the man's face.

The sunset was gentle, burning low against the waving grass for another hour before finally giving the sky over to dusky blues and purples. When she needed more light to work with, she took a candle from her pack. A young man with a less severe injury offered to hold it for her, and was promptly dubbed "Candle-boy" by the others.

The Rohirrim were all kind, she learned, if a little crude at times. They stayed in good spirits despite the blood and pain they bore, and managed to make her laugh a few times.

When she finally cleared the last patient, Lori was ready to keel over. That had been something of a marathon of treating patients, but she felt good about it. Maybe coming to Rohan had been the right choice after all.

Candle-boy blew out the light and handed it to her. "Where are you headed next, if I may ask?"

"Edoras. I'm hoping to find some permanent work as a healer."

"I don't think you'll have much trouble. I could see from today that you're good at what you do." He gave her a shy smile and walked away.

For some reason, it reminded her of Faeron, and Lori's good mood wilted.

She found Aragorn smoking by himself near the edge of the camp and settled down next to him with a sigh.

"You made quick work of their injuries," he said. "I would have helped you, but I thought your skills would be better received if they were the only ones on display."

"I understand." She shot him a grateful smile. "This was a good start. I don't think I'd want to be riding around with this group, though."

Aragorn shook his head. "They would not permit that. Women are forbidden to ride in an éored. But if you have a favorable word from the marshal, you'll have a better chance of finding a position in the capital."

"That sounds a little more suitable."

She brushed a bit of grass from her skirt. The men in Théodred's company seemed nice, but it was still a bit of a boy's club. If Rohan's law forbid women from the military, she didn't think she'd be missing out on much.

"So, why did you introduce yourself as Strider?" she asked in a low voice. "Do you think some of these men could be…dangerous to you?"

"I kept my name secret out of an abundance of caution, not a lack of trust," Aragorn said. "I would rather pass inconspicuously through these lands, as best I can."

"Oh, right." She'd nearly forgotten the reason why he'd come to Rohan in the first place. "I haven't told anyone why you're here, just that you offered to travel with me." She scratched at a spot of dirt right above her knee. "Some of the men thought we were related. I-I guess it's more common for families to travel together."

Aragorn said nothing for a moment, and Lori regretted bringing that last part up. She'd come to terms with it a while ago—Aragorn had guided her, made her feel safe, done things to make her smile. He'd been everything a father was supposed to be. But it felt presumptuous to ask him to acknowledge that when it was only by chance that their paths had crossed at all.

They were going to part ways soon. She was an adult, not an orphan. She'd had a father, and it felt like a betrayal more than anything to try and replace him with someone else.

Aragorn spoke before she could backtrack. "The Rohirrim place a good deal of importance on family ties. But they also know that strong bonds are not only forged by blood."

There was reassurance and affection in his gaze as he spoke. Lori tried to smile back. She would have no family, no friends when she arrived in Edoras, but hopefully she'd be able to make some new connections.

She'd just never be able to replace the one she was about to lose.

Just as a note of clarification, I'm going with book!Theodred which means he's early to mid forties. No shipping him with Lori or I WILL be calling the authorities.

Writing this chapter hurt my heart because Aragorn is definitely at a point where he would accept Lori as a daughter, but he doesn't want to put salt in the wound by saying it out loud when they're about to go their separate ways.