Chapter 24

King Théoden was alone in his study when Lori arrived, and the curtains were drawn shut. She bristled a little at the sight. Even if Gríma was away for the moment—Éowyn had managed to entrap him in a meeting with some lords from the Westemnet—he still found ways to resist them. She didn't know of anyone else who would be so insistent on keeping the curtains closed.

"Good afternoon, your majesty." Lori gave a small curtsy and crossed the room.

Slowly, she drew back the heavy fabric from the window. The light was dim today, the sky heavy with gray clouds threatening the first snow of winter. Théoden had become more withdrawn as the cold closed in and outings became less frequent. Lori had felt the weather weighing on her own mood. They both needed as much sunlight as they could manage today.

She took the seat on the other side of the desk, both hands clasping her notebook so she wouldn't fidget.

"Is there anything you'd like to discuss with me today?"

She always felt awkward during these meetings. Unlike Éowyn, Éomer, and Théodred, she was not part of Théoden's family. She was an outsider, and the only information she could rely on was that which he decided to give freely.

"What will you do if there is nothing?" Théoden asked after a moment, his gaze focused on the far wall.

Lori cleared her throat. She'd prepared for this. "I'm available if you ever want to discuss your health or any…any anxieties you might have. If you don't have anything you want to talk about, I'm willing to provide some company. I believe being isolated like this could have a poor effect on your health. That being said, if you want me to leave, I'll go. It's your choice."

"So you have come seeking the woes of a king's mind."

"Only what you're willing to share." She shifted in her seat. "I know I'm all but a stranger to you. I wouldn't blame you for not wanting to show me any kind of vulnerability. Maybe we could start with a simple question."

"What is it?"

She nodded at the object that had caught her eye last time she'd been in the study. "I wanted to ask you about the chess set there. It's the first I've seen since I came to Meduseld."

Théoden followed her gaze to the dark wooden sideboard. He considered it for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice wasn't nearly as distant. "It was gifted to my father while he lived in Gondor. It has since passed down to me."

"Do you ever play?" Lori asked, fervently hoping she wasn't crossing a line. "It could be a good way to pass the time."

He lapsed into a long silence, then slowly nodded.

Lori rose from her seat to retrieve the chess set. It was beautifully made, the board checkered with glossy squares of white and black. Each piece had been hand-carved and painted to resemble miniature soldiers and horses. The whole thing was covered in dust, and it smudged her fingers as she carried it back to the desk.

She sat down and wiped her hands on her skirt. "It's been a while since the last time I've played. Do you prefer white or black?"

Théoden leaned forward a little and studied the board, his eyes moving over each piece as if examining them individually. She'd rarely seen him so present before, and it brought a little flutter of hope to her chest.

"I will have white," he said, and Lori turned the board so the white pieces were on his side.

"Your move."

They played a few turns in silence. Lori was surprised how quickly the game came back to her. Back in college, she'd done online chess tournaments with her friends, staying up late and giggling with each other over video chat. Holding the pieces in her hand felt better than clicking a mouse around, but she missed the banter and the rowdiness of her old friends.

It took her a while to work up the courage to break the silence.

"How long did your father live in Gondor?"

Théoden didn't respond until he'd made his next move. "For most of his boyhood. He returned to Rohan when it came time to take up the crown."

She wondered why the previous king had spent so long away from his own people, but it didn't seem appropriate to ask. "Have you ever been to Gondor yourself?"

"Many years ago. Since then Théodred has made the journey in my stead."

"You must be proud," she said with a small smile. "He's a kind man. I'm grateful he decided to put his trust in me."

A long moment of silence passed, and Lori bit the inside of her cheek. This was the closest thing to a normal conversation she'd ever had with the king, and she was terrified of ruining it somehow.

Théoden slid his rook across the board and said, "Yes, I am."

Without knowing why, Lori thought of Aragorn. She'd never thought to play chess with him during their days in Rivendell. She'd never asked him if he was proud of her. She wished someone else would ask him, even if she would never be able to hear the answer.

"You left your family to come to Rohan?" Théoden asked, breaking her from her thoughts.

"Yes," she responded, because it was close enough to the truth.

"What was the trade of your father?"

"He ran an inn." Another half-truth. She hoped it didn't show on her face, even if Théoden was focused on the chessboard. "He…He spent a while trying to convince me to become a healer."

"And he bade you travel south?"

"That was my own decision." She picked up one of the discarded pawns, which had been fashioned to resemble a small soldier. "I wanted to lend my skills somewhere they would be needed."

"Then you are welcome in Edoras." Théoden moved his queen across the board. "Checkmate."

"Oh." Lori blinked. The loss wasn't as close as she would have liked, but it seemed less awkward than if she'd been the one to beat him. She considered their somewhat successful conversation to be her own small victory. "Well, I enjoyed this. I don't want to take up much more of your time, but I'd be happy to play again another time—if you'd like."

Théoden lapsed into another silence as she replaced the pieces and brought the board back to its original spot. She gathered up her things and slung her bag over her shoulder.

"If you ever need anything from me, you only need to ask."

She turned towards the door, but stopped when he spoke.

"Your father still lives?"

Something in his voice had changed. It seemed colder now.

Lori faced him, hands clasped together. "Yes. As far as I know."

"Yet you did not stay to care for him."

It was as if she'd slapped her. Lori floundered for a response, but there was nothing she could say. He was right. However it had happened, she had left her parents childless. They would have no one to support them as they aged.

It was her fault. Even in death, she still wasn't enough.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, and she didn't know who the words were for, but it was all she could manage before she fled the room.

Lori reached up to undo the half-finished braid in her hair, the dark strands tangling around her fingers. Stifling a frustrated sigh, she combed her fingers through it and tried again. This was the first time in a while that she was attempting something more complicated than a simple tail to keep her hair out of her face. She wanted to look nice for Sárelle's wedding, but that was proving more difficult than expected.

She scoffed at herself. It was such a silly thing to worry about, but at the same time it was nice, having a worry that wasn't a matter of life or death or politics.

A knock sounded at her door, and she gave up on her hair and went to answer it. Upon seeing Sárelle on the other side, she blinked in surprise. She wasn't in her wedding dress yet, but her face was clean and shining, and her hair had been pinned back from her face.

"I came to see how you were faring," Sárelle said, looking her over. "Does the dress fit you well?"

"Um, yes." She ran her hands over the soft lavender fabric. She didn't own anything suitable for a wedding, so Sárelle had lent her something since they were a similar size. The dress had a modest cut, but was light enough for the spring warmth. "I'm still trying to figure out my hair. 'Trying' being the key word."

"Let me help you."

She frowned. "Sárelle, no. This is your wedding day. You shouldn't waste your time on me."

"I am offering because I want to." Sárelle met her gaze, and there was a tiny plea there.

Lori sighed. "All right, ten minutes. I would never forgive myself if I made you late to your own ceremony."

"Well, they won't be able to start without me," she said, walking past her and into the room. She took a stool and set it in front of the mirror. "Sit."

Lori closed the door and did as she was told. "You don't have to do anything complicated. I just…you know. I want to look presentable."

Sárelle shot her a sympathetic smile and pulled her hair away from her face. "Have you ever been to a wedding before?"

"A couple, when I was younger. I had a few cousins get married."

"Do you have a large family?"

"I suppose so." Lori tried not to let her reluctance show in her voice, though a glance in the mirror told her Sárelle wasn't prying for information. "Your family seems nice. Are you happy to see them again?"

Sárelle's parents and one of her uncles had arrived a few days ago for the wedding. Lori had only exchanged greetings with them, but they seemed nice, if a little aloof.

"I am," Sárelle responded. "I'm grateful for another chance to see them before I am married."

There was an unexpected finality in her words. Lori glanced up at her through the mirror, but Sárelle's gaze was entirely focused on her hair.

"You don't think you'll go visit them?"

"They would be rare visits." She paused. "Even if the opportunity did arise, it would be Bregdan's decision."

Lori frowned. Even if Bregdan was kind, even if he treated Sárelle with respect for the rest of their days, this still wasn't the world Lori had grown up in. Women in Edoras didn't have the same level of power over themselves. She wanted to say something, wanted to protect her friend from this, but it seemed cruel to bring up a choice that she didn't even have.

Sárelle tied off the locks of hair she'd been working with, and Lori caught her hand before she could lower it.

"Look." She met her eyes through the mirror. "I know this is a big change for you. I know there are some things you're giving up, and I wish you didn't have to. Just don't forget that we'll all still be here—me, Éowyn, Dernhild. You know you can ask us if you need anything, ever."

Sárelle's expression faltered for a moment, her lower lip trembling, and then she smiled. "You are a good friend, Lori."

"So are you." She turned her head to inspect her hair. Sárelle had pulled the strands at her temples into simple twists that were tied at the back of her head. "It looks lovely. Thank you."

"I'm glad you like it." She smoothed her hands down her bodice. "I should go. I still need to get dressed."

"Yes, go! Don't let me keep you." She stood up and hugged her. "Enjoy yourself today, all right?"

"All right." Sárelle returned the embrace, then left the room.

Any evidence of doubt or sorrow was gone by the time the ceremony began. Sárelle looked radiant with little white flowers pinned in her hair to match her dress. She smiled at Bregdan as she approached, and he gazed at her as if she were the full moon itself.

Their joy was infectious, and the wedding feast brimmed with laughter and conversation. Lori caught snatches of conversation about possible suitors, about Lady Déorwyn's slowly swelling stomach, about who would be next to wed. The talk made her feel a little lonely, and she spent several minutes trying not to think about Faeron before someone shouted for quiet.

The noise in the hall died down as everyone turned to the king's table, where Théoden had risen from his chair. His eyes were shadowed, but the festivities and the warm weather seemed to have brought some color back into his cheeks.

Though Lori was glad to see his condition improving, it still stung to think of what he'd said about her father. She couldn't fathom why he would make a comment like that, but she'd never gathered the courage to ask him. She'd kept their conversations short and impersonal, and it seemed the efforts of his family was enough to help him continue recovering.

Théoden cleared his throat. "Today we celebrate the union of one of our brave soldiers, Bregdan of the Eastfold, and Lady Sárelle of Lebennin." His voice was hoarse from disuse, but it grew stronger as he continued. "As you all know, I myself am a product of the union between a man of Rohan and a woman of Gondor. It is an honor to see the ties continue to strengthen between our two great kingdoms. With this marriage comes the chance for new life and a cherished future." He raised his goblet of wine, only the barest tremor visible in his hand. "To new life."

The crowd echoed his words, raising their own goblets and tankards, and the feast resumed with renewed vigor. Lori rose from her seat and made her way towards Éowyn, who was standing near the back of the hall with Éomer.

"That was good," she said with a smile. "Did you ask him to make a speech?"

Éowyn shook her head, eyes bright. "I had no idea." She reached out and squeezed her hand. "I think your plan is finally coming to fruition, Lori."

"You've done well," Éomer said. "Especially if Wormtongue's face is anything to go by."

Lori followed his gaze to the king's table, where Gríma was standing with an expression that suggested he'd just swallowed something sour.

"Well, the work isn't done yet," she said. "But I'm glad to see some progress."

"What gave you the idea for such a simple treatment?" Éomer asked. "Fresh air and conversation—I would not have thought such things could prove to be remedies."

"Perhaps that is because the only remedy that would benefit you is a vigorous blow to the back of the head," Éowyn said.

Lori suppressed a snort at her comment and replied to Éomer in a more serious tone. "Not all remedies have to involve medicine. Imagine if you were confined within this hall for months on end." She shrugged. "I've just been referencing what I've learned in the past."

Éomer nodded slowly. "From your Northland mentors."

Éowyn turned to him with a glare. "Lori has proven herself a skilled healer. What does it matter who she has learned from?"

Éomer scowled, glancing between the two of them, and then his expression faltered.

"I meant no offense," he said to Lori. "I only spoke out of curiosity."

"Well, I hope you will be able to endure your unsatisfied curiosity," Éowyn said before Lori could respond. She turned and grabbed her hand. "Come. We should go look for Dernhild. I haven't seen her since the feast started."

Lori let Éowyn lead her a few steps, then paused. "I'll catch up with you. Just give me a few minutes, all right?"

Éowyn searched her face for a moment, then nodded and squeezed her hand. Lori watched her disappear into the crowd, took a calming breath, then turned back to Éomer.

She'd had no idea he still harbored any suspicions about her. Most of the time, he was away with his éored, and when he did return to Edoras they usually only exchanged a handful of words. With anyone else, she would have tried to shrug off his comment, but this was the brother of her closest friend. She didn't want this with him.

Éomer watched her almost warily as she approached. Her stomach flip-flopped, but it was too late to back out now.

"You should know," she said, willing herself not to get emotional, "that my parents were foreigners, even in the place where I grew up. I've always had questions about where I'm from, what sets me apart from other people. You're not the first person to treat me like an outsider." She stopped, jaw clenched tight. She didn't have the courage to admit how much that hurt.

"Lori, I do not distrust you because you are not one of the Rohirrim. You are not the first outsider to set foot in Edoras. I am more concerned with the fact that you remain reticent about your past, that you came here alone and have shared very little about where you came from."

"I don't talk about it because it—" Her breath hitched, and she knew she was moments away from crying. "I'm never going to be able to see my family again. I came here alone because I don't have anyone. That's it. I'm not a-a fugitive or a spy or…" She felt tears prick her eyes, and her face grew hot.

"I'm sorry," Éomer said, and she could tell he meant it, even if she didn't have the courage to look him in the eyes. "It never crossed my mind—"

"It's fine," Lori said, the last words she could manage before her voice broke. She turned and weaved through the crowd, heading straight for the nearest exit. A blast of cool air greeted her as she left the crowded hall, and she clenched her jaw before a sob could escape. She held her breath, then let it out slowly.

Breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven, out for eight…

She repeated the numbers to herself as she made her way outside. It was too early to disappear from the party entirely—she would take a moment to collect herself, then walk back in and hope she didn't run into Éomer again.

She wished she'd brought a drink with her.

She walked around to the back of the hall, where she would be less likely to be disturbed. She thought about visiting the garden, but she didn't want to get any dirt on Sárelle's dress.

She rounded the corner and stopped short at the figure curled up against the wall.

It was Dernhild, arms wrapped around her knees with her head resting on top of them. Her shoulders were shaking with small, suppressed sobs.

"Hey," Lori said softly.

Dernhild's head snapped up, and she briskly wiped the tears from her face. "Ah. You, um…"

Whatever witty comment she was trying to conjure never came. Lori sat next to her and put an around around her shoulders.

"It's all right," she said. "You can cry if you need to."

Dernhild's expression crumpled, and she put a hand over her face. Lori rubbed her arm, her chest growing tight. She'd never seen Dernhild like this before. In the days leading up to the wedding, she'd been as irreverent and animated as ever—perhaps more so than usual, now that she thought about it. She realized now that it had all been an act.

"If you want to talk about what's upsetting you, I'll listen."

Dernhild sniffled and swiped at her eyes again. "I do not think you will like what you hear."

"Do you remember that day by the river? You told me I wasn't the only one with secrets. You asked me to be understanding if I were to ever learn yours." She paused, but Dernhild did not meet her eyes. "I think I already understand."

"Say it, then," Dernhild said, staring ahead with a stony expression. "What is it you think you understand?"

"I think you're in love with Sárelle. I've suspected there was something between you two for a while, but—"

"But she is married," Dernhild finished, her voice growing hard. "There is nothing more to be said."

Lori bit her lip. "I'm so sorry. I really wish things had turned out differently. You deserve to be happy too."

She huffed a derisive laugh. "I am not so sure. Perhaps I am being punished for my feelings."

"No." Lori leaned over so she could look her in the eyes. "You know there's nothing wrong with you, right? There is nothing wrong with the way you feel."

"But the way I feel is not allowed. What I want is not allowed. I am to grow old and remain unmarried, to the utter shame of my family, or I will spend the rest of my life wed to a man I will never love." She spat out the last word, jaw trembling.

Lori opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn't come. There was nothing she could say or do to fix this. Even with everything she was able to do as a healer, she was powerless here.

After a moment, Dernhild asked, "How do you know that what I want is not wrong?"

"Well, if you're wrong, then so am I."

Her head whipped around to face her, eyes wide. "What?"

"I mean, for me it doesn't matter. I like men and women." She gave her a one-armed hug. If this tiny piece of companionship was all she could offer, then she would offer it freely. "I promise you what you feel does not make you a bad person. If I could make this right for you, I would do it in a heartbeat."

Dernhild looked down at her tearstained hands, her expression unreadable.

"I don't know what to do," she said quietly.

The words resonated in Lori's chest like a crack running through stone. How many times had she sat like this, so full of despair it felt like she was drowning in it?

She still didn't know how to pull herself out, but she would fight like hell to make sure Dernhild saw the surface again.

"We'll get you cleaned up, and I'll make some tea." She grasped her arm and helped her to her feet. "Let's just get through the rest of today. We'll take tomorrow when it comes."

Sorry for the delay in posting. As always, I really appreciate everyone who has left a follow/favorite/review. Until next time!