Chapter 25

The next day, Lori went to the garden first thing in the morning. She needed to dig her hands into the dirt, to feel living things against her palms. She needed something to ground her.

Something had shifted between her friends. Sárelle was a married woman now, Dernhild was heartbroken, and Lori was afraid it was going to pull them apart. She'd spent the night trying to think of a way to prevent that without putting salt in certain wounds.

She sat back on her heels with a sigh, using her wrist to brush back a strand of hair from her face. It was getting close to a year since she'd first come to Edoras, and she'd become more deeply entwined with the people here than she ever could have imagined. She didn't want to lose any of that just yet.

Footsteps rustled the grass behind her.

"Lori?"

She glanced over her shoulder and found Éomer standing at the entrance to the garden. She stiffened. She'd been so preoccupied with Dernhild's predicament that she'd all but forgotten about her confrontation with Éomer at the wedding feast.

He took a few steps closer. "I owe you an apology."

She brushed the dirt from her hands and stood up. She couldn't conjure up any sense of triumph or vindication. It was more likely that Éomer felt sorry for her after she'd lost her composure, and hot shame settled in her belly at the thought.

"I spoke unkindly to you at the feast when you had done nothing to deserve it. Ever since Gríma came to Edoras, I've become more wary of strangers to the city. It never crossed my mind that you would have a different reason for your reticence. For that I am sorry."

It sounded as if he'd rehearsed the words beforehand, but Lori could tell that he meant them. Despite her shame, her heart warmed a little.

"I understand why you would be cautious. I know you only want to protect your family. I just…I want my actions to speak for themselves. Everything that happened before I came here…I'd rather leave it in the past."

He dipped his chin. "Fair enough."

"So if you're willing, perhaps we could take this as a chance for a fresh start." She extended a hand, then hesitated when she realized there was still dirt on her skin.

But Éomer only smiled and took her hand in a firm grip.

"Very well. A fresh start it is." He glanced over her shoulder at the garden. "What work are you doing here? I'll admit, I am not very familiar with the duties of a healer."

"Oh, I was just checking up on some of the herbs." She bent down to pluck a few more weeds from the soil. "I didn't expect gardening to be a skill I would have to learn when I was training to be a healer, but that's the only way to keep up a regular supply of ingredients I need."

Éomer squatted beside her. "So you uproot the ones that are not desirable?"

Lori hummed in agreement. "They take resources from the herbs I'm trying to grow, and they can crowd out the ones I've just planted. As long as I keep up with it every day, it never gets too bad."

After a moment's consideration, Éomer began helping her pull up the weeds. They worked in amicable silence for a few minutes while Lori tried not to think about how weird this felt. She wondered if Éowyn had put him up to apologizing, then decided it didn't matter. Éomer seemed kind and honest like the rest of his family, and this didn't feel like something worth second guessing.

He pulled a small green sprout from the soil, and she tried to wave his hand away.

"Not that one! I planted that last week."

"Ah. I apologize. I hadn't realized…" Hesitantly, he placed the sprout back in the soil.

The gesture was so genuine that Lori couldn't help but laugh. Thankfully, Éomer only smiled and stood up.

"I should leave you to your work before I do any more damage."

"All right. You stick to defending the country." She sat back on her heels and waved goodbye as he left the garden.

She smiled at his retreating figure. This was the Éomer she'd seen interacting with Éowyn, the person that lay beneath his stern exterior.

She was glad he had decided to share that part with her.

A few weeks after the wedding, Sárelle came to the infirmary. Though Lori could tell there was something specific on her mind, she kept the conversation light and let Sárelle make small talk.

Their group of four had continued on with their friendship as if nothing had changed. Dernhild made no indication that the wedding had ever happened, though Lori had noticed that she avoided the small touches that she and Sárelle had shared before.

"I want you to know that I will stay in Edoras for the time being," Sárelle said. "I had discussed with Bregdan the possibility of moving to the Eastfold to live with his family, but we agreed it made more sense to stay put. He is often away riding with Éomer, and all my friends are here."

"That's a relief." Lori handed her a mug of tea and sat across from her on one of the cots. "So you'll be here at least until Bregdan…retires?"

Sárelle nodded. "That seems the most likely scenario, unless he is injured and cannot ride." She looked down at the steam rising from the tea. "It feels strange to think so far into the future."

Lori let out a soft snort. "I know what you mean. I never could have imagined myself sitting here two years ago. Who knows how things will be once we're old?"

She laughed. "Everything will be different, I imagine." Her smile faded, and she traced the rim of her mug with one finger. "Bregdan intends for us to have a child this year," she said quietly. "I wanted to ask you for advice on the matter."

"Well, I have herbs that will make a pregnancy more likely…" She hesitated, watching Sárelle's expression. "And herbs that will make it unlikely."

Sárelle's brow twitched as she took in the implication in her words. "I know of the herbs you are talking about, but I'm not sure if they would be appropriate for my situation."

"It's your choice. Whether you want a child or not, it's up to you, and I'll help you either way." She held her gaze. "And everything will be completely private, all right?"

Sárelle looked away. "It is not my choice. It is expected of me that I will produce a child. That was established at the beginning of the marriage agreement, along with everything else."

"I'm sorry." Lori pressed her lips together, a helpless frustration mounting within her. "I wish I could give you that choice. I really do. Just know I'll be there for you, no matter what."

"Thank you." Her smile was bittersweet. "You have strange ideas about what should and shouldn't be."

"I know." She shrugged. "Call me an idealist."

"Do you think it is possible for a woman to choose her own path in life?"

"I hope so."

She thought of her friends, of the different ways they were yearning for something they couldn't have. She wished she had a way to help them all beyond simple reassurances. She wondered when she'd stopped wanting things for herself.

"It'll be all right." She gave Sárelle what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "We just have to keep finding new ways to make it work."

There was a stranger in the garden.

Lori stopped short, and the woman turned around. She was tall, with long, dirty blonde hair and a pointed nose. She looked to be about Lori's age, if a little older.

"Oh. Are you the healer of the Golden Hall?"

"Yes, I am." She shifted the basket she was holding to her left hand so she could extend her right. "My name is Lori."

The woman accepted it with a smile. "I am Guthwyn. Lady Déorwyn summoned me to Edoras as a midwife."

"I see." In truth, Lori felt more relieved than insulted that Déorwyn had asked someone else for help with her pregnancy. She'd learned about delivering babies from Adela, but she'd never had the opportunity for practice. It lessened her anxiety to know the pressure wouldn't just be on her when the time came. "Do you know when she's due?"

"In a few more weeks, I'd imagine," Guthwyn said. "Lady Déorwyn was complaining about pain in her back, so I was looking for some chamomile."

"I have some already dried in the infirmary that you can use."

Her expression brightened. "Oh, that would be quite useful. Thank you."

"Of course." Lori gestured for her to follow her back into the hall. "If you ever need supplies or an extra hand, you can always come find me. And the garden is free for your use, too."

"Thank you," Guthwyn repeated. "I find it a relief that you've been so welcoming. I didn't want it to seem as though I was stepping on your toes. Though you seem quite young for a healer in such a high station."

Lori shot her a sideways glance. With Guthwyn's light tone, it was hard to tell if that had been an insult or just a careless statement. "Well, I was lucky enough to have Prince Théodred's favor when I arrived in Rohan. He helped me get this position."

"You've met the prince?" A light blush rose on her cheeks. "What is he like?"

"He's a good man. I'm sure you'll see him next time he comes to Edoras."

"It's a wonder he doesn't have a wife yet."

"He certainly has a lot of important things on his mind," Lori said, trying to hide her irritation. "Anyway, how has Lady Déorwyn been faring? I'll see if I can give you some other herbs you might need."

She tried to keep the topic on medicine as they reached the infirmary. Guthwyn seemed fairly knowledgeable when it came to midwifery, and she planned to stay with Lady Déorwyn after she gave birth to help take care of the child in its first few months. Lori hoped she might be able to learn a few things from her—and stay away from gossip in the process.

It was with a small sigh of relief that she finally bid Guthwyn farewell and sat heavily at her workbench. She hadn't even had a chance to collect the herbs she needed from the garden, but that could wait.

Only a few moments after Guthwyn left, Éowyn traded places with her, slipping through the infirmary door without knocking.

"You met the new woman, then?" she asked, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.

Lori nodded. "She seems nice." She gestured for her to take a seat. "How are you?"

"I'm all right." Éowyn remained standing. "I have need to look for some documents in the archives. Would you mind accompanying me?"

"Of course." She stood up and followed Éowyn out of the room. There was no need to speak in plainer terms—she understood when Éowyn was asking for a companion for her own peace of mind. "You know, maybe I won't be as busy now that there's another healer in Meduseld."

Éowyn shot her a reproachful look. "Guthwyn could never replace you. She will likely be gone by the end of the year, anyway."

"You're right." Lori gave her a grateful smile. "But it is nice to have someone take the pressure off a bit."

"Perhaps you should be kinder to yourself, then." Éowyn nudged her elbow. "Not even the king can make everyone in Edoras happy."

Lori hummed in agreement. "Speaking of the king—"

She stopped herself as Éowyn pushed open the door to the archives. The room was dimly lit, a handful of torches revealing the haze of dust within, but the current occupant was visible among the shadows.

Gríma's pale eyes flicked between the two of them. "My lady."

Éowyn gave him a curt nod and swept into the room. She seemed to know exactly what she was looking for, so Lori trailed after her, keeping her gaze fixed forward. If Gríma chose to outright ignore her, that was probably the best case scenario.

"I'm looking for some records of repairs that were made to the outer wall in past years." Éowyn ran her fingers over the spines of the books packed onto the narrow shelf. "Would you mind bringing one of the torches closer?"

Lori did as she was asked, careful to keep the flame away from the contents of the shelf. "Is there something wrong with the wall?"

"No, but it does require maintenance. It's work best done when the weather is dry."

Out of the corner of her eye, Lori could see Gríma standing at the other end of the room, staring at them. She suppressed a sigh. It was evident now why Éowyn had asked her to come with her, and she was overcome with the urge to throw something at Gríma.

"He's staring?" Éowyn asked in a whisper.

"Yeah."

To her surprise, Éowyn began laughing, and brought a hand to her mouth to muffle her giggles.

"What's so funny?" Lori whispered.

"I cannot help but think of the word you used at the autumn festival." She tried and failed to straighten her expression. "What was it? In cell?"

Lori risked a glance at Gríma, who was glowering at them, then burst into her own fit of laughter. They leaned against each other and laughed until they were breathless. When Lori finally managed to straighten up, she looked around and realized Gríma had gone.

"God." She sniffled and shook her head. "I really can't stand him."

Éowyn nodded, her expression falling a little. "In truth, I am worried."

"Why?"

"My uncle's condition has improved. Soon, Gríma's hold over him will begin to slip, and I do not believe he will relinquish it peacefully."

Lori stared at her, her earlier amusement evaporating. "What do you think he's going to do?"

"I do not know." Éowyn looked down at the text she had pulled from the shelf, and there was anger in her gaze, gleaming with the reflection of the torchlight. "And I wish we did not have to wait and see."

She put a comforting hand on her back. "He's outnumbered. We have Éomer and Théodred working with us—and King Théoden, too. I know he wants what's best for his people, even if he's struggling right now. There's only so much Gríma can do to stop us."

"I hope that you are right," Éowyn said, her gaze still faraway.

Lori bit the inside of her lip and replaced the torch in its brazier. She wanted to offer further reassurances, but she wasn't sure she could find any. She didn't know how this was going to end, and it was far easier to pretend that there would be no retaliation to what she and the others were doing.

Autumn brought a gray, chilly fog to Edoras. The inside of the stables was cold, but Éowyn had reassured her that the horses were kept comfortably warm once the temperature dropped.

Lori ran her fingers through Hithui's mane, smoothing away a few tangles as gently as she could. Despite the arrival of her namesake, Hithui appeared as serene as ever, turning her head to nudge Lori's hand.

With a soft laugh, Lori acquiesced and began stroking along her spine. Éowyn had also taught her that horses had their own ways of communicating, and understanding them was just a matter of reading their body language. As a child, she'd never had a pet, and having a horse was a big step up from the guinea pig she'd begged her parents to buy.

"If I could take you inside Meduseld, I would," Lori said. "I'd be more comfortable curled up in a blanket next to the fire. Would you like that?"

Hithui only blinked at her.

"I'll take you out riding tomorrow. Get both of us some exercise." Lori gave her one final pat on the shoulder and stepped out of the stall. "I have to get back to work."

She pulled an apple out of her pocket and offered it as a parting gift, then left the stables. She'd grown less awkward about talking to Hithui, especially after witnessing Éowyn having what appeared to be full-blown conversations with Windfola.

A stern wind blew over the rocks, and Lori hunched her shoulders as she made her way back to the Golden Hall. As she passed through the entryway, one of the maidservants intercepted her.

"Lori, do you have a moment? Lady Déorwyn needs a favor."

She frowned. "Of course. Is something wrong?"

Lady Déorwyn had given birth to a healthy baby boy a few months ago. Lori had assisted during the grueling twelve hours of labor, but Guthwyn had attended to most of the lady's needs both before and afterwards.

"She is in good health. Her concern is for Guthwyn. She's had pain in her throat since this morning."

Lori hummed in sympathy. "I've seen a few other cases this week. I'll make something to soothe her throat."

"Thank you." She dipped her head in a nod. "Should I come collect it from the infirmary?"

"That's fine. It should only take me a few minutes."

They parted ways, and Lori headed straight for the infirmary. There had been a few cases of what she assumed was strep going around, likely because of the colder weather. It made her glad of her insistence on cleanliness, even if she got weird looks for it sometimes.

She hummed to herself while she prepared a tea with a few drops of elderberry extract. Perhaps tomorrow she would visit Guthwyn and make sure her condition wasn't anything serious. With any luck, she'd be back to normal in a few days, but a sore throat was a miserable ordeal regardless.

She was just setting down the tea to cool when raindrops began to patter against the roof. Lori glanced towards the window and cursed. She'd left out a few bundles of herbs to dry, and the rain wasn't going to do her any favors.

Slinging her bag over one shoulder, Lori hurried down the hall and out one of the side doors. The droplets were scarce for the moment, but the charcoal-colored clouds above threatened an imminent downpour. She snatched the herbs from where she'd tied them on the fence and made it through the door just as thunder rumbled overhead.

She pushed her hair out of her face with a sigh and waved to Dernhild, who was coming from the opposite direction.

"What's this?" Dernhild said as she drew closer. "Afraid of a little rain?"

"I didn't want these to get wet." She shook the bundles in her hand. "And yes, I'm deathly afraid of the rain."

Dernhild smiled and linked arms with her as they set off down the corridor. "Are you joining us for dinner tonight?"

"I will, as soon as I drop something off for Guthwyn. She's suffering from a sore throat."

She wrinkled her nose. "Poor thing."

Lori hummed in agreement. "You remember what I said about washing your hands before meals? Please try and make that a habit. I don't want you getting sick, too."

"Ah, yes. Shall I wash the back of my throat as well?"

"Sure. We'll see if it fixes that smart mouth of yours."

Dernhild narrowed her eyes playfully. "You've grown quite bold yourself to speak that way to a lady of Edoras."

"Uh-huh. Go ahead and banish me, then."

"Right into that rain you so fear." Dernhild knocked shoulders with her, then released her arm. "You'd best not be late for supper."

"Yes, my lady," Lori said, and laughed at the face Dernhild made.

She returned to the infirmary in high spirits, then stopped short. The tea she'd prepared for Guthwyn was gone from the worktable. It seemed the maidservant had already taken it to her.

That was well within her rights—Lori didn't expect her to wait around after she'd disappeared. But she still didn't like the idea of people moving around the infirmary while she wasn't there. Even if there was nothing of value to be taken, the room still felt like her space.

She shook off her unease and headed for the main hall.

The others were already seated when she arrived, and Sárelle beckoned her over. Lori slid into the seat beside Éowyn with a sigh. They'd found a place close to the hearth, and the fire was already soothing the chill from the few minutes she'd spent outside.

"Have you discussed it with him yet?" Dernhild was saying.

Sárelle shook her head. "He rides out with Éomer tomorrow. I thought it best to wait until he returns."

Lori took one of the slices of bread from the plate they were sharing. "What's going on?"

"I received word that my father has fallen ill," Sárelle said, fingers fidgeting idly on the table. "I thought to journey to Gondor and visit him once the weather permits it."

"Sárelle, I'm so sorry. Do you know what it is?" She bit her lip. Her first instinct had been to reach for her healer's bag, and it pulled at her heart to know the man she wanted to help was hundreds of miles away.

"The healers cannot say for certain, but he has been in decline for some time. He was healthy enough at the wedding. It has only been recently that he has struggled with…with moving about." Sárelle spoke in an even voice, despite the turmoil she was undoubtedly feeling. Lori couldn't help but envy that a little.

"Bregdan cannot bid you stay," Dernhild said with a small frown. Her hand was clenched on the table, as if she wanted to reach out and take Sárelle's.

"Not in this matter, but I was hoping he would come with me. He could see more of my country and my family."

"I see," Dernhild said, and withdrew her hand.

"I am sure Bregdan will accompany you," Éowyn said. "If they can be spared, we could send a couple more riders with you on your journey." She reached across the table and squeezed Sárelle's hand. "You should be with your father."

"Thank you." Sárelle gave her a grateful, slightly misty smile. "In any case, we shall have to wait until spring. I doubt we could make it to Minas Tirith before the snows catch us."

"Why Minas Tirith?" Lori asked. "Isn't that at the east end of Gondor?"

"That is the path everyone must take," Sárelle said. "There is no pass through the White Mountains that is safe for travelers."

They all turned as the entrance doors opened, letting in a blast of chill air. A group of scowling men entered, and Lori shifted her gaze back to her meal.

They had arrived in Edoras about a month back, and though they wore dark, plain clothes, they'd been given the same authority as the guards of Meduseld. The official explanation was that they'd been summoned from the Westfold by the king to supplement the guard, but Lori had a strong suspicion it had been Gríma's doing. She just wasn't sure to what end.

"I didn't realize we needed common thugs to guard the hall," Dernhild muttered, then glanced at Éowyn. "No offense."

"I have taken none," Éowyn said, though it looked as though she were holding back a scowl. "I do not think they are needed, either."

Lori risked another glance at the newcomers, who had commandeered a table on the other side of the room. They made her nervous, even if common sense told her the small group wasn't enough to do anything drastic. The majority of the people in Edoras were loyal to Théoden, not Gríma, and the king was finally coming back to himself.

"I think we should speak of happier things," Sárelle said, breaking her from her thoughts. "I do not want to…indulge in misery anymore tonight."

"I have done no such thing," Dernhild said. "I have been a pleasure all evening."

"Of course you have," Sárelle said, shooting her a half-exasperated smile.

"All right," Lori said. She hadn't even been aware of the turn their conversation had taken, but these days it seemed easier to talk about their worries than anything else. "Let's think of something fun to do for the winter."

Éowyn brightened a little. "I do not believe anyone would miss a few bottles from the wine cellar."

"We can have a wine tasting like those pretentious Gondorians," Dernhild said.

Sárelle raised her eyebrows. "And who would you be referring to?"

Lori allowed herself to relax as the four of them slipped into an easier conversation. Winters had always been hard for her, even before she'd come to Middle-earth, but her first in Edoras hadn't been so bad. Her friends made the short days brighter.

She was in good spirits when they parted ways for the night. She stopped by the infirmary and made a quick note to check on Guthwyn the next day, then headed off to bed. The rain outside had ceased, but she was still eager to crawl beneath the warm blankets.

She picked up her comb—a gift from Éowyn—and ran it through her hair a few times. She'd never let her hair get this long in her past life, preferring to keep it just below her shoulders, but it was down to her waist now. She wasn't sure if she would ever cut it again. It felt like a sign that she'd changed, that she belonged to this new world now.

Someone pounded on the door hard enough to make it rattle in its frame, and Lori started. The comb clattered to the floor. She left it there and hurried to answer the door, adrenaline jolting through her veins. If someone was asking for her this late, it was undoubtedly an emergency.

She opened the door and stopped short. Two scowling men stood on the other side. Gríma's thugs.

She let out a short, nervous breath. "Can I help you?"

"You are accused of attempted murder," one of the men said. "By order of the king, you are now under arrest."

"What?" Lori said dumbly.

Instead of responding, the other man reached through the doorway and took hold of her arm. She planted her feet, but she wasn't strong enough to keep from being pulled into the corridor.

"What do you mean? I-I haven't done anything," she said, hating how weak her voice sounded. "Who was m—" She faltered before the word could make it past her lips.

The man pulled her away from the door, hard enough that her shoulder twinged. His companion fell into step on her other side.

"Let me go!" Anger overtook her shock, and she tried fruitlessly to pull away. "I don't know what you're accusing me of, but I haven't done anything to hurt anyone."

They both ignored her. She cast about the hallway, but it was empty. Briefly, she thought about calling for help, but she couldn't bring herself to raise her voice.

"Let me talk to Lady Éowyn," she said. "Please. I'm sure—"

"You'll have a chance to defend yourself before the king tomorrow."

She struggled to swallow around the lump in her throat. A chance to explain herself—there was a small glimmer of hope.

"Then where are you taking me?" she asked.

Neither offered a response. Lori flinched as they stepped outside, a blast of cold air sweeping over her. Mud squelched beneath her boots. It was dark enough for her to stumble a couple times as they walked, and it was only the man's bruising grip on her arm that kept her steady.

They took her around the back of the hall, to a low wooden building further down the slope. She'd always assumed it was meant for storing various supplies, but when they threw open the door, she saw a long, empty hallway. Along one wall were four wooden doors. The man pulled her to the second one from the door and opened it.

Lori's stomach dropped. It was a cell, empty except for a stained straw pallet. The dirt floor was still damp from the evening's rain.

"I don't—" she started, but the man gave her a hard shove.

She stumbled forward and caught herself on the far wall. The wood shook beneath her palms as he slammed the door shut and locked it.

"No." She turned and pushed against the door, but it held fast. "I don't need to be in here. I didn't hurt anyone." Her voice wavered, and tears welled in her eyes a moment later.

The man gave her a hard look. There was no cruelty in his gaze, just impatience. As if he simply had no interest in her pain. He spared her a moment's glance, then followed his companion outside.

"Wait!" Lori pushed again at the door, then pressed her fist to the back of her mouth as a sob lanced through her chest.

Pull yourself together, she told herself, and the voice in her mind almost sounded like her father's.

With her next breath, she bent like a broken stem, curling up on the edge of the pallet while she tried not to cry.

Pull yourself together, she tried again, but the words only felt like they were beating her down.

It was dark, the barred window on the door just barely silhouetted in gray. There was nothing in the cell, just the yawning space around her and the chill seeping upwards from the ground.

There was nothing to drown out the lonely sound of her finally giving in to her tears.

I realized after last chapter that I needed a scene of Eomer apologizing to Lori. I feel like he can be kind of rough around the edges at first, but once you get past that he is absolutely a ride or die friend. So I'm glad he and Lori were able to make up.

Anyway, I think this is the first cliffhanger in a while. I'm excited for the next chapter, and I hope to have it up soon.