Chapter 22

Spring blended into summer, and life settled into an easy rhythm for Lori. She grew familiar with the people of Meduseld, and in turn they warmed up to her. Gríma remained cold and sly, but she learned to ignore him (for the most part). It was easier to be in good spirits around Éowyn, Sárelle, and Dernhild. As much as she missed her old friends in Rivendell, she was grateful to be able to spend time with women her own age.

The training courtyard was sweltering when she arrived, and Lori brushed her hair away from her neck, which was already beginning to sweat. She didn't understand how the men could tolerate exercising with their heavy armor in this weather.

One of them waved her over to the edge of the area, where another man was sitting on a bench with his head in his hands.

"What happened?" she asked as she approached.

The man on the bench lifted his head and scowled. "You didn't need to call a healer, Baldor. My head feels better already."

Lori resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She'd come to learn that, when it came to the riders, convincing them they were injured at all was half the battle.

Baldor turned to her and spread his hands. "We were sparring and I knocked Wulf on the head. He lost his breakfast and nearly keeled over, which I thought was strange since I'd hit him on the head, not the stomach."

Lori looked closer and noticed a darkening bruise on the side of Wulf's head. "It's possible you have a concussion. Are you feeling dizzy at all?"

Wulf shook his head, then winced. "It was just a blow to the head. I've had worse."

That's not the reassurance you think it is.

"Why do you think you vomited?" she asked.

He scoffed and shrugged. "The heat, perhaps? It's not as if I'm with child."

Baldor chuckled at that.

"Whether it's the heat or a concussion, I don't recommend you continue training today," Lori said, bracing herself for an argument. "You should find a place to rest and drink some water to cool down. If your head still hurts after a couple days, come see me."

Wulf's frown deepened. "Our éored leaves tomorrow."

"If that's the case, then I would advise against riding out with them. That kind of movement could make your injury worse."

His frown sharpened into a glare. "You would have us lie idle in the city instead of defending our borders."

"No." Lori flushed. "No, that's not what I meant at all. I-I'm just recommending that you give yourself time to heal."

Wulf only snorted and pushed himself to his feet, leaving the courtyard with slightly unsteady strides. Baldor followed him in silence.

Lori stayed where she was, and to her embarrassment, felt tears prick her eyes. She took a deep breath to calm herself.

Let his concussion get worse, then, she thought, and immediately felt ashamed. It was her duty as a healer to help people. If she'd explained his condition more clearly, perhaps Wulf wouldn't have stormed out like that.

"Lori?"

She turned at the sound of Éowyn's voice and tried to straighten out her expression.

"Is everything all right?" Éowyn asked, shooting a glance at the doorway where the two men had exited.

"Yes. Just, you know, men being stubborn." They shared an understanding smile, and Lori glanced down at the blade in Éowyn's hand. "I didn't know you knew how to use a sword."

Éowyn twirled the sword so the tip was facing the ground, and her free hand came to rest on the handle. "Even if I am forbidden from riding out with the men, there may still come a time when I need to defend myself."

"I suppose it's better to be prepared than not."

"Did you learn anything of swordplay when you lived in the north?"

"No." Lori almost laughed. Aragorn had offered once to teach her a few combat skills, but she'd refused. "I've seen enough of what swords can do to people. I don't think I'd have the guts to actually use one."

A furrow appeared on Éowyn's brow. "Not even in defense of your life?"

"I…" Lori fumbled for words for a moment. She thought back to the times she'd faced death or worse. "I just don't know if I could."

"Here." She pressed the sword into her hands. "It's not heavy."

It was lighter than she expected, but Lori still held it as if it were a loaded gun. She remembered what Aragorn had told her—that a weapon did not mean protection if someone could take it from her. She didn't ever want to have to test that piece of advice.

Evidently seeing the look on her face, Éowyn held out her hand to take the blade back. "I didn't mean to worry you. There is no need to think of such things. Not in Edoras."

"I know," Lori said, relieved to have it out of her grasp. Her palm had already begun to sweat. "I think I'm better off just stitching people up."

She smiled faintly. "I suppose it is against a healer's nature to deal wounds with the same hand that mends them."

"Right." Lori swallowed. It should be. "Well, like you said, we don't have to worry about that here."

Éowyn nodded in agreement, but there was a shadow on her face as she watched the men in the training courtyard.

The sun had settled on the horizon, and only a few beams of orange light made it through the window of the infirmary. Lori extinguished the fire in the small hearth, throwing deeper shadows over the room. She'd stayed later than usual finishing up a few tonics, and she was looking forward to a late dinner.

She opened the door and nearly bumped into the person standing on the other side.

"Lori." Théodred held his hands out to steady her in case she lost her balance. "I wasn't sure if you would still be here."

"I was just finishing up for the day. I have a few minutes if you need something, though." She understood how valuable Théodred's time was—not just because he was a prince, but because he and the rest of his éored usually only spent a handful of days in Edoras before leaving again.

"I do not want to take too much of your time," he said quietly. His usual friendliness was muted, and there was a small furrow between his brows. "I need to speak with you in private."

"Of course." Lori stepped aside so he could enter the infirmary and shut the door behind him. The room went dark, and she hurried to light the hearth again. She swallowed back a surge of anxiety—whatever the issue was, she wanted to handle it properly. She needed to prove to him that he'd made the right choice in bringing her here.

Théodred paced the length of the room while she started the fire, and the knot in her chest tightened. Perhaps he wasn't here to talk about his health, but about her performance. He might have heard about the incident with Wulf and decided she wasn't fit to treat the people here.

Taking in a calming breath, she stood and turned to face him. "What did you want to discuss with me?"

Théodred locked eyes with her. "I want you to examine my father."

Lori's eyes widened. "The king?" she asked, holding back a wince at the slight squeak in her voice.

She'd rarely seen King Théoden during her time in Meduseld. He was an elderly man, soft-spoken and grim-faced, but she'd never been close enough to glean anything more than that. She'd assumed at first that his reclusiveness was just a result of being busy running a kingdom.

She cleared her throat. "Is he…in poor health?"

Théodred's expression darkened, and he glanced towards the door, as if making sure no one was listening in. "He is in good health, for a man of his age. But he has not been himself lately."

She nodded with a small frown. If it was something age-related, like dementia or Alzheimer's, there was only so much she could do to treat him. "What are his symptoms?"

With a drawn-out sigh, Théodred leaned back against the worktable and crossed his arms. "He has become withdrawn as of late. More often than not, he is distracted, speaking in fragmented sentences and prone to long bouts of silence."

Lori bit her lip. None of those were good signs. "Was there anything that could have triggered that change in him, or was it more gradual?"

Théodred shook his head, the furrow between his brows growing deeper. "There have been signs in the past few years, but I did not think much of it until it seemed too late." He was silent for a long moment. "There is but one thing that gives me pause."

She waited for him to continue, almost afraid to speak.

He lifted his head and turned to her with a piercing gaze. "You have only lived in Rohan for a few months. I do not doubt your capabilities as a healer, but I need to know that I can trust you."

Her stomach dropped at his grave tone, and she forced herself to keep her eyes on his. "All I want is to help the king. If you need me to keep a secret, I can."

Théodred looked at her for a moment longer, then nodded. "It has grown more common that the only person to whom my father will lend his ear is Gríma. I trust you've met him."

"I have," Lori said, holding back a grimace. "Is he close with the king?"

Théodred shook his head, a strand of hair falling loose with his agitation. "He came to serve in the court three years ago. He gained the king's favor quickly, though I have found much of his counsel to be unwise. I do not know how, but the fact of it is undeniable." His jaw clenched. "And that is what grieves me—that the king would listen to the words of an stranger before those of his own kin."

Lori drew in a measured breath. She had a feeling that wasn't the worst of it.

"I have turned the matter over in my head many times." Théodred glared at the shelf of jars as though he was trying to crack the glass with his gaze alone. "To voice my suspicions without proof would be unwise. But I believe it is more than coincidence that my father's decline began shortly after Gríma earned a place on the council."

It took a couple tries for Lori to swallow, her mouth was so dry. Her voice was a little more than a whisper as she finally spoke. "You think he has something to do with it."

"I do not know if it is poison or some other form of sabotage. I have no way of knowing, and that is why I came to you."

Lori nodded, a half-automatic acknowledgement as she tried to wrap her head around what he was telling her.

"I also believe it is more than coincidence that caused your predecessor to leave Meduseld," Théodred continued. "If you examine the king, you too will come under Gríma's scrutiny. I ask for your help, but I will not command you to do something that may risk your safety."

She was silent for a moment, absently digging bits of herbs from beneath her fingernails. This was what she had wanted all along, why she had come to Rohan in the first place—a chance for something more, something different. The adrenaline coursing through her veins made her feel awake in a way she'd nearly forgotten.

"I want to help," she said finally. "I think Gríma has been keeping an eye on me since I first arrived. I'm not going to let him scare me away."

There was no joy in the smile Théodred gave her, but perhaps there was some pride.

"All right. I will find you when my father has a moment of freedom from his duties. If there is anything you need for the examination, I will do what I can to provide it."

"I don't think I'll need any supplies, but that could change after I have more information."

She tried not to let the apprehension show on her face. If Gríma really was doing something to sabotage the king's health, that would be a challenge in itself, but at least she would have Théodred's support. She was far more scared that her findings would be something simple and inevitable. Something Théodred wouldn't want to hear.

"Thank you, Lori." Théodred nodded in farewell and left the infirmary, tension still lining his face.

She murmured a response that was only audible to the guttering flame in the hearth.

"What do you mean, Meduseld doesn't have a library?"

Éowyn regarded her with a furrowed brow. "The archivist keeps a number of records in his study, but they are used to document food stores and the contents of the treasury."

Lori shook her head—that kind of information wouldn't be useful to her. "Is there a library somewhere else in Edoras?"

"We do not keep many writings in Rohan. Most of our knowledge is passed down through spoken word and song." Her expression softened as she seemed to realize it was only a cultural misunderstanding. "What are you looking for?"

"Just some medical references." Lori hesitated. She wasn't sure how much Éowyn knew about her uncle's condition or Théodred's suspicions. "If there's nothing available, that's all right."

Éowyn sighed. "I see. Normally Wídfara would have taken on an apprentice before he left his position and taught them what he knew, but…"

"It's all right. I've had apprenticeships before." But Adela had never taught her about diseases that deteriorated the mind, and neither had Erestor—elves never had to worry about such things. "I'll make do with what I've learned already."

She'd grown increasingly anxious in the days since Théodred had asked her to perform an examination on the king, not least because she didn't know when she'd be called to help. She couldn't draw any premature conclusions beforehand, but that didn't stop her from feeling terribly underprepared. Not for the first time, she wished for the benefits of modern medicine, the drugs and technology and knowledge that would be twice as effective as what she was able to do with her hands.

"What sort of information are you looking for?" Éowyn asked. "Perhaps I know someone who could help."

Lori hesitated. "I'm not sure if I should say. It's for the sake of privacy. But thank you for your help."

Before Éowyn could respond, footsteps echoed down the corridor where they were standing, and they turned to see Théodred striding towards them.

"Éowyn." He gave her an affectionate squeeze on the shoulder before turning to Lori. "It's time. Do you have everything you need?"

"Time for what?" Éowyn glanced between the two of them, frowning.

"I've asked Lori to examine the king, to determine the state of his health." Théodred sent her a meaningful look.

Understanding dawned on Éowyn's face, and she turned to Lori. "You must tell me all you have found once you are finished." She squeezed her hand. "Good luck."

Lori nodded weakly, hoping she wouldn't need any luck in the first place, then followed Théodred down the corridor.

"All right." She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "So, are there…specific rules I should follow when I meet the king? I don't want to offend anybody."

"This is only an informal meeting, so you should not worry too much," Théodred said. "A curtsy will do when you introduce yourself. And you should address him as 'Théoden King' or 'Your Majesty.'"

"All right. That's simple enough."

Théodred glanced at her, evidently hearing the anxiety in her voice. "I'll be there the entire time. If Gríma is there, I will handle him—your focus should be on the examination."

"Thank you. I-I know you were the one who asked me to do this in the first place, but I appreciate the support."

"Of course. I wouldn't put you in any kind of risk if I wasn't prepared to mitigate the consequences."

She relaxed a little. Even if the worst was true and Théoden was reaching the end of his reign, she trusted Théodred to be a good leader in his father's place.

They reached a handsomely carved door brightened with red and green paint, and Théodred knocked. A moment later, the door swung open, and Gríma's expression darkened as he caught sight of the two of them.

Lori straightened her shoulders and met his gaze when he glanced at her. She was not going to be intimidated.

"I brought Lori here to perform an examination on my father," Théodred said. "I understand his meeting with the lords from the Westfold has ended. I'm sure she will be finished before his attentions are called elsewhere."

Gríma's eyes narrowed. "The king is not ill. I see no reason to waste his precious time with needless scrutiny…Your Highness."

"I only have the health of my father in mind," Théodred replied evenly. "His wellbeing and the wellbeing of the kingdom are one and the same."

"Even if he isn't sick, it's still a good practice to have regular examinations," Lori added softly. "Wellness is about maintaining one's health, not waiting until sickness has already taken hold."

A small smile twitched beneath Théodred's beard. "She speaks the truth. Lori has a sharp mind. The examination should only take a few minutes."

"I see no reason to search for problems where there are none, but…" Gríma turned his gaze towards her, and she resisted the urge to fidget. "I will not argue with a learned woman."

Somehow, it didn't feel like a compliment coming from him. Lori tried for a smile, though it came out as more of a grimace.

With barely-disguised reluctance, Gríma stepped aside so they could enter. Théodred motioned for Lori to go first, and she stepped into the study on the other side of the door. True to Éowyn's words, there were no books in the room, but the table in the center was dominated by a large, detailed map of Rohan. The wide window on the far wall was obscured by a pair of thick curtains, leaving the fire in the hearth as the only source of light.

King Théoden was seated in an ornate chair on the other side of the table. His face was lined with deep wrinkles, his eyes rising slowly to take in the newcomers.

Gríma moved to the other side of the room and bent to speak to him in a near-whisper. "Prince Théodred has arrived with the new healer. They believe you are in need of an inspection."

"You need not stay for this, Gríma," Théodred said, then added with a slight undercurrent of contempt, "I'm sure you have your own matters to attend to."

"My place as chief counsellor is with the king," Gríma replied coldly, one hand coming to rest on the back of Théoden's chair.

Théoden shifted, his eyes roaming about the room, then murmured, "Gríma…"

"I will remain here," Gríma said, triumph glinting in his pale eyes.

The hell was that? Lori tried not to let her disquiet show on her face. She considered bringing up the issue of confidentiality to try and get him out of the room, but she had a feeling he would find a way to slither around that reason as well.

Théodred put a bracing hand on her shoulder, urging her forward, and she moved to place her bag on the corner of the desk.

"Um. Your Majesty." She dropped into a small curtsy, aware of Gríma's eyes on her the entire time. "My name is Lori. I came from the Northlands this past spring to serve as the new healer in your court."

"Where in the Northlands?" Gríma interrupted.

She tried to hide her irritation as she glanced at him. "Bree. It's the major town in that region." She turned back to Théoden. "This is just going to be a basic examination, but if you have any specific concerns about your health, I will do my best to address them."

Théoden was silent as she spoke, but she wasn't sure if he was actually listening until he responded. "What concerns do you have about my health?"

She realized she was fidgeting with her hands and held them against her stomach. "I won't be able to answer that until I finish the examination. If you have any concerns, you're free to bring them up at any time."

Her words were met with stoic silence, and she resisted the urge to start fidgeting again. She'd never done a general examination like this before—her previous work had always been addressing specific complaints or injuries.

"May I take your pulse?" Lori held out one hand.

To her relief, Théoden extended one hand from the thick fur of his robes. She took his wrist and began measuring his pulse with two fingers, hoping her own racing heartbeat wouldn't mess up her count. His wrist wasn't nearly as frail as his appearance suggested, though his nails were long and unkempt and his skin was pale from lack of sun.

"All right. Your pulse seems normal." She stumbled over her words as she released Théoden's wrist. After every pause, she kept expecting Gríma to jump in with another unnecessary question. She couldn't help second-guessing the next step she should take.

Her fingers brushed her arm, and she remembered the way Aragorn had treated her when they'd first met. Even at her most emotional, he'd always been calm and understanding. If he were here now, he wouldn't let anyone speak over him.

She took a deep breath and pressed onwards.

"People who have a lot of responsibility can suffer from stress and fatigue, and that can have a negative effect on one's health. Have you experienced a loss of appetite or trouble sleeping?"

Théoden's gaze lifted as if he were searching his memory. After a long moment, he replied, "Such matters have not been on my mind."

"Do you ever have trouble remembering things?"

On Théoden's other side, Gríma bristled. "I see no need to prod about the king's mind with these questions. I cannot help but wonder what the purpose of this interrogation is, especially from a foreigner."

Lori bit the inside of her lip as she tried to formulate a response that didn't involve swearing.

"It is a serious accusation to imply disloyalty to the Crown, Gríma," Théodred said, his voice nearly a growl.

"I have made no accusations." Gríma adjusted the fur-lined cuffs of his robe. "I am merely curious about such an unusual examination process."

"If you have questions, I'd be happy to answer them at another time," Lori said, fervently hoping he wouldn't actually take her up on the offer. "Right now, I'd like to complete my examination without any further interruptions. As you said, the king's time is valuable, and I don't want to take any more than necessary."

"Carry on, then," Gríma said with an impatient glance, as if she had been the one to start stalling.

Lori allowed herself one moment to fantasize about throwing one of the wooden tokens on the desk at Gríma's head, then put her focus back on the task at hand.

"All right. Let's try some physical tests."

She hoped it didn't show that she was more or less making things up as she went along. She tested Théoden's eye movement with a candle, then had him perform some simple physical exercises. His movements were a little slow, but steady and deliberate.

She took notes as she worked and let the notebook lie flat on the desk, mostly so Gríma could see that she was writing in Tengwar and her notes were useless to anyone but herself.

Physically, there didn't seem to be anything out of the ordinary for someone of Théoden's age. But when she tried asking about his mental state—his memory, mood, daily habits—his answers became more reticent. His answers were vague and slow to come, and with each question it took longer and longer to get a response. Eventually, Lori concluded that there was no point in continuing.

"I think I have a good amount of information." She closed her notebook and turned to Théoden. "Thank you for your time. You appear to be in good physical health. I'll have to take the evening to look over my notes, but I'll see what I can recommend to improve your mental state. Did you have any questions?"

Théoden didn't respond, and after a beat of silence, Gríma spoke up.

"I will see to it that these recommendations are utilized appropriately."

She leveled him with a flat stare. I wouldn't trust you with a pet rock. "We'll see."

"Thank you, Lori," Théodred said. "I'll escort you back to the infirmary." He nodded to the pair behind the desk. "Father. Gríma."

Lori followed him out of the study. She waited until they were a good distance down the hall before letting out an exasperated sigh and dragging her hand through her hair.

"That was, um…a lot."

"You did well," Théodred said. "I've only ever seen Gríma so difficult during council meetings."

"Difficult," she muttered. "Makes it sound like he's a toddler."

She'd tensed, wondering if she'd crossed a line, but Théodred laughed.

"I have certainly met children less intractable." His expression grew serious. "I hope you were able to glean something useful despite his interference."

She took a deep breath. "I'll need some time to look over my notes and think before I can give a full report."

Théodred's brow furrowed. "Is there nothing you can tell me now?"

She bit her lip. Of course he would be impatient for answers—this was his father, and it was clear he'd been suffering for a while now. If Aragorn was afflicted by something like this, she didn't know if she'd be able to wait any longer than necessary.

"It's hard for me to say anything certain after just one discussion," she said, choosing her words carefully. "I can think of a best and worst case scenario, but his situation might be anywhere between the two."

"And what is the worst that you can conceive?" Théodred asked lowly.

"There is a disease that affects the mind and causes it to deteriorate." Lori hesitated, afraid to see his reaction. "It's most common in elderly people. There are treatments that can alleviate symptoms, but…there's no cure. It causes increasing memory loss, personality changes, disorientation. But it's too early to tell if that's what is happening to Théoden."

Théodred was silent for a long moment before he asked, "Did you find any evidence that Gríma has affected my father's health?"

"If he is doing something, it's not physical. I think it's safe to rule out poison." She suppressed a shudder at the mere thought. "It might do your father some good to be away from Gríma more often."

He smiled bitterly. "If there was a way to send him from Edoras, I would have done it long ago."

"Then he at least shouldn't be alone with Gríma. I know it's not…preferable for people to see the king like this, but I think it would be good for him to be around others. He could be suffering from a bad depression, and staying isolated is only going to make it worse."

Théodred nodded slowly. "I see reason in your words. I will think about what you have said."

They reached the door to the infirmary, and he paused.

"Thank you again, Lori. I know you have not lived in Edoras for long, but I feel I was right to put my trust in you."

She was surprised to feel a lump in her throat at his words. "I truly hope I can live up to that. And…I'm sorry about your father. I know this must be hard for you."

Théodred looked at her sharply, and she couldn't help but wonder if this was the first time someone had said those words to him.

"Thank you for your kindness, Lori," he said after a pause.

She tried for a smile. "I just wish I could give you better news."

"You should not burden yourself with the wounds other people cause," Théodred said, and his words stayed with her long after they'd parted.

While writing this chapter Théodred began to sort of "feel" like the way I write Thorin. I know Richard Armitage said in an interview that he likens Thorin's character to Théoden. I really wonder what Théodred would have been like as king.

I'm really enjoying building Lori and Théodred's relationship. That wasn't something I had planned out, but I feel like they work well together. Aragorn already has the Father Figure spot, so I guess Théodred could be sort of like an uncle/older brother figure.

Anyway, it looks like we hit the 100 review mark! Thank you so much to everyone who has commented so far. It means a lot to me.