Chapter 26

Lori managed to doze off for an hour that night. She woke just as the dull glow of daylight was seeping into the cell. She shivered, huddled in one of the corners near the door, and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand.

She hadn't dreamt—there had been nothing but the cold and the hazy, desperate hope that someone would come and pull her out of the cell. She'd strained her ears for the sound of footsteps, but there had only been the wind.

Attempted murder. The words put a lump in her throat, but they implied that whoever it was hadn't actually died. That was something of a comfort.

Whatever Gríma was planning, he had no proof to support his accusation. Surely the king wouldn't punish her on his word alone.

She silently repeated the words to herself, but it did nothing to quell the anxiety boiling in her stomach, threatening to rush up like vomit. This would change the way everyone saw her, whether she proved herself innocent or not. Perhaps Éomer would return to his former doubt of her. Perhaps Théodred would begin to question why he had ever chosen her to be Meduseld's healer in the first place.

Not for the first time that night, her thoughts strayed to Aragorn. If he were here now…

If he were to see me like this… Lori squeezed her eyes shut and pressed her face into the crook of her elbow. This felt like a failure. Even if she'd done nothing wrong, it still felt like a failure. She'd been locked in here for a reason. Maybe she deserved whatever was coming next.

Dawn washed over Edoras. Gradually, the sounds of farmers starting their day and soldiers exchanging watches filtered over the hill. People rarely came near the building where she was being kept, so she didn't hold out any hope that she'd be able to grab someone's attention.

She wasn't sure if she'd even be able to move. Her legs were stiff from being locked in the same position for so long, and her feet and hands were numb from the cold. A growing seed of hunger was beginning to worry her stomach. The man had told her she would have a chance to speak to the king today. He hadn't told her whether that would be this morning or if she'd be stuck in this cell for another six hours.

I can't—

Lori cut off the thought before she could finish it. She just had to ride out the next few hours. The cold and the mud were new, but she'd been trapped with her own thoughts before. She just had to distract herself, find a way to pass the time.

She tried practicing her Sindarin, translating words and fragments from Rohirric to Sindarin without using Westron in between. She thought back to the herbs on the shelf in the infirmary, tried to organize them in alphabetical order through memory alone.

The day grew brighter, but the sunlight was weak in her cell, and the warmth even more so. She was cold. She was cold, and it was getting harder to fight back the lump in her throat.

Lori squeezed the fingers of her opposite hand, then moved down to touch the goosebumps on her forearm. She pressed down on the tendons just below the inside of her wrist. Her fingers curled, nails sinking a millimeter into her skin. She pushed down—

"Lori?"

At the sound of the familiar voice, she shot to her feet, her stiff legs nearly giving out under her. She crossed the room and clutched at the bars of the window to steady herself.

"I-I'm here."

Éowyn's face appeared on the other side, and Lori wanted to cry.

"Are you all right?" Éowyn gripped her hand as much as she could through the narrow gap. "Did they hurt you?"

There was thunder in her voice, a powerful anger that nearly made Lori flinch away even though she knew it wasn't directed at her.

"I'm fine." Her own voice sounded weak and shaky in contrast. "I don't know what happened. They said I-I tried to kill someone. I swear I didn't do anything."

"I know you did not. This was a trap set by Gríma." Éowyn's jaw worked for a moment. "I cannot free you from this cell, but I will find out when my uncle plans to question you. I will make sure you are proven innocent."

"Do you know who…who they're saying I…?"

"Guthwyn. She fell ill sometime last night, but she is recovering."

Any remaining warmth drained from Lori's body.

"The medicine," she breathed. "I prepared something for Guthwyn and left it in the infirmary, and when I came back it was gone and I thought one of the maidservants had taken it—" She dragged a hand over her face. "Oh god, if I had just taken it to her directly…"

Éowyn's eyes flashed. "You believe Gríma tampered with the medicine?"

"He must have. There was nothing I put in there that would have made her sick."

A memory stung her with the scent of sage. Perhaps she had. Perhaps Guthwyn had had an allergic reaction to the medicine, and Lori really had almost killed her.

"I don't know." Tears filled her eyes, and she was grateful for the dimness of the cell. "I don't know what happened."

"I believe you are innocent, Lori," Éowyn said, and her voice was like steel. "I have never doubted that. I will search for the truth of this incident as best I can."

"All right." Gratitude swelled within her. "Thank you."

She swallowed, tensing as if she wanted to say more, but merely nodded and said, "I will see you soon."

Lori felt her absence the moment she was out of sight, but her chest felt a little lighter. At least now she knew for sure that someone was aware of her situation, that someone was on her side.

She started pacing, both to get her blood flowing and to try and burn off some of the nervous energy welling inside her. Perhaps Gríma had tried to frame her by poisoning Guthwyn, or perhaps it had only been an allergic reaction. Either way, this all could have been prevented if Lori had brought the medicine directly.

Either way, she'd slipped up.

Another hour passed—maybe more than that. It was hard to keep track of time in the dark of the cell. When footsteps sounded outside, she tensed and peered through the window.

Dernhild appeared on the other side. "You look terrible."

Despite herself, Lori cracked a smile. "That's what I get for sleeping in a cell."

"All right, I didn't come here just to tease you." She pushed a piece of fabric between the bars. "Pull."

Lori did as she asked, and a blanket slid through the gap. She wrapped it around her shoulders with a grateful sigh.

"Sárelle is helping Éowyn, or she would have come to see you already. I don't know what they hope to find, but perhaps they will uncover something that will help you."

"What do you…" She struggled to swallow. "How do you think this will turn out? You've lived here longer than I have."

"It depends on how thoroughly Gríma has planned this trick." Dernhild met her eyes. "You have us on your side, Lori. Whatever happens, we will not let this ruin you."

"Thank you," she whispered.

"Don't give me your thanks. I know you would do the same if it were any of us in that cell." Dernhild's expression wavered for a moment, and she reached into the bag at her hip. "I thought you might be hungry."

She passed bits of food through the bars, along with a waterskin that just barely fit through the gap. Lori didn't realize how hungry she'd been until the first bite of bread was in her mouth. It made her more grateful than ever that she had true friends in Edoras, people she could depend on even at a time like this.

"I'll come back in a little while," Dernhild said once she'd finished eating. "Though if they don't take you out for your trial soon, I might as well break you out myself."

Lori managed a soft laugh. "Don't get yourself into trouble for my sake, all right?"

"We'll see." Dernhild reached through the bars to squeeze her fingers. "You'll be free soon enough."

Her lips moved to form an acknowledgement, but her voice wouldn't cooperate. Her heart was gripped by a sudden fear that she didn't know how to understand.

She fought to keep an iron grip on her emotions even after Dernhild was gone.

When the men came for her, Lori was ready.

Or at least, she was trying to be. She'd spent the hour and a half since Dernhild had left pacing and mentally rehearsing what she was going to say. Above everything else, she'd drilled into her mind that she could not cry. Showing that kind of weakness would be all but an admission of defeat to the men judging her. She wasn't going to give that to Gríma.

One of the men unlocked the door, and the other stepped inside. Lori straightened, hoping they wouldn't feel the need to drag her around like they had last night, but she couldn't hold back her surprise as the man grabbed her wrists and wrapped a rope around them, binding them together.

"I'm not going to run away," Lori said, fighting to sound indignant despite the tremor in her voice. She wanted to be out of the cell, anywhere she wouldn't be alone with these two men.

The one that had bound her hands planted a hand between her shoulder blades and pushed her out the door.

Despite her protests, one of the men gripped her arm and the other one flanked her as they walked towards the hall. A pair of stableboys stared as they passed, and Lori clenched her jaw. This was all an effort by Gríma to humiliate her (and if she was being honest with herself, he was succeeding).

Just let this be over, she prayed silently. She just wanted the trial to be over so she could be left alone. Assessing the damage Gríma had done could come later.

They were walking down the corridor to the main hall when a voice interrupted them.

"What is this?"

Lori jumped at the noise and glanced over her shoulder. Éomer was approaching them with a thunderous expression. Her first instinct was to shrink away, but his glare was focused on the two men.

"We are taking the prisoner to stand trial," one of the men said, the challenge apparent in his voice. "To interfere would be treason."

Éomer came to a stop before them. He towered over both of the men. "In Edoras, we do not treat our women with such disrespect. If you have truly taken an oath to defend our hall, you would do well to remember your sense of honor."

He reached out and undid the ropes binding her hands. Whether it was because of his words or his imposing stature, neither of the men intervened as Éomer put a hand on Lori's shoulder and guided her down the corridor. Despite his anger, his touch was surprisingly gentle.

Lori didn't dare say a word. She was grateful to Éomer, and relieved that he didn't seem to hold anything against her, but the two men were still trailing behind them. They were almost at the main hall, and anxiety had frozen her tongue.

As they passed through one of the side doors, Éomer said lowly, "My uncle will be the one to judge you, not Gríma. Remember that."

Lori could only nod numbly, terror nearly rooting her to the spot. Éomer gave her a brief, reassuring squeeze on the shoulder before they parted.

Théoden was seated on his throne at the back of the hall, his shoulders hunched and his gaze distant. Perhaps he wasn't intent on bringing her down like Gríma was, but that wasn't a guarantee he would rule in her favor.

Taking a deep breath, Lori moved to stand before the throne, at the bottom of the stone dais. On both sides of the hall stood dozens of other people: nobles, soldiers, and staff alike. She looked none of them in the eye, afraid of what she would find there.

Gríma had taken his usual place at Théoden's side. Though his face remained stoic, a twisted triumph glinted in his eyes. The sight made anger roll through her chest, nearly strong enough to drown out her anxiety.

Lori clenched her jaw and met his stare. You are not going to win this. If he truly had been the one to try and poison Guthwyn, she would not let him get away with it.

Gríma cleared his throat and stepped forward. "You have been summoned to stand trial for the attempted murder of Guthwyn, daughter of Gárbald."

"I did not make any attempt to hurt her," Lori said, surprised at the strength in her voice. "I would never—"

"You will speak only when asked to do so," Gríma said, his upper lip twitching. "Any…belligerence on your part will only result in a more severe punishment."

She bit the inside of her cheek and fell silent. She wished someone had explained to her how this trial was supposed to work and what rights she had—if any.

"Now." Gríma clasped his hands behind his back and descended the dais. "One of the maidservants has testified that you were asked to concoct some sort of medicine for Guthwyn. It was collected from the infirmary and given to Guthwyn. Shortly afterwards she suffered from…distress of the stomach which left her ill and weakened."

Lori tried not to let her surprise show on her face. She hadn't put enough of anything in there that would have caused stomach problems, even if Guthwyn had been allergic to one of the ingredients. It was far more likely that she had been poisoned, and though that was a horrible truth on its own, it put her mind at ease somewhat.

Gríma came to a halt before her. "Do you deny any of the maidservant's claims?"

She held his gaze for a moment, then asked quietly, "Am I allowed to speak?"

"I would welcome it." His eyes narrowed slightly. "Unless you have no defense to give."

"It's true that I was asked to make something for Guthwyn." Lori raised her voice so everyone else in the hall could hear her. "She was suffering from pain in her throat, a symptom I've seen in a few others this week. I made a tea with some elderberry essence to ease her pain. None of the ingredients I used would have caused her to fall ill the way she did." She swallowed hard. "It goes against everything I believe in as a healer to hurt another person like that."

"Indeed." Gríma began pacing back and forth in front of the dais. "You have been the healer of Meduseld for more than a year now, yes? What a stroke of luck to have come from a foreign land and earned a place close to the king in such a short time."

Lori said nothing. She wished Théodred was here to vouch for her, but his éored had been absent for weeks.

"And for another healer to take residence within the hall…" Gríma tilted his head, as if he were merely thinking out loud. "Perhaps you held concerns that Guthwyn's arrival would put your own position in jeopardy."

"That's not true," Lori said, unable to keep the indignation out of her voice. "Guthwyn is a good midwife. We've learned from each other. I was never jealous of her—you can ask her yourself."

He spun to face her. "I did not ask you to speak."

"You're throwing accusations at me without giving me a chance to defend myself." Her fists clenched at her sides. "Do you have any proof that I tried to poison Guthwyn, or are you just going to continue speculating?"

His eyes flashed. "You ask for proof? It was your remedy that poisoned Guthwyn. You have admitted already that you prepared it. What proof can you give besides your word that you did not add something deadly?"

Lori bit down on her cheek. It was her word against his, and they both knew who had the king's favor. She tried for a deep breath, feeling cornered. She hadn't wanted to bring this up, but she was running out of options.

"There was a period of time in which Guthwyn's medicine was left unattended in the infirmary," she said. It was getting harder to keep her voice steady. "When I returned from an errand, it was gone, and I assumed the maidservant had taken it. I…I believe it's possible someone tampered with the medicine during that time."

"And who would have cause to do such a thing?" Gríma raised his eyes to hers, baiting her with his stare. He knew she suspected something. But accusing him without proof would only make things worse for her.

"I don't know," Lori said. "I have no way of knowing." She lifted her gaze to Théoden. "All I know is that I have spent more than a year dedicating my life to looking after the people of Meduseld. I-I have no reason to betray the trust I've tried to build here."

Théoden watched her silently, his gaze unreadable.

"You say you are loyal to Rohan?" Gríma asked, then turned to the king before she could answer. "Your majesty, I have discovered something I believe may be of interest."

He ascended the steps of the dais and withdrew a book from within his robes. It was her journal, Lori realized with a jolt of outrage. He'd gone through her belongings. The thought made her skin crawl.

"I recovered this book from the infirmary." He opened it to a random page and held it out so Théoden could see its contents. "Everything here is written not in Rohirric, not even in Westron, but rather in some elvish script."

A murmur went through the crowd behind her, and Lori felt her cheeks flush with rage and frustration.

"It's written in Sindarin," she said. "I don't see how this is relevant."

"The language is not unknown to Rohan," Théoden said, his eyes roaming over the book for only a moment more before looking away.

"Of course, your majesty," Gríma said, and Lori wanted to slap the honeyed tone out of his mouth. "I am aware that some Gondorians still speak it." His eyes flickered back to Lori. "Yet you did not come to us from Gondor."

"I came from the north," she said. "I still don't see how this is relevant to accusations of poisoning."

"And who taught you to write in this language?" he asked, waving the book in her direction.

Lori hesitated, thinking back to the day by the river when her friends had asked her about elves. In Rohan, they were considered nothing more than fairytale creatures. She wasn't sure what angle Gríma was trying to take with this, but either way she had nothing to hide.

"I learned Sindarin from some elves who…who took me in for a period of time," she said, trying to ignore the muttering that had started up behind her.

Triumph flashed on Gríma's face. "Then you are in league with the elf-witch of the Golden Wood."

"W-What?"

"Gríma," Théoden said, but his voice was nearly drowned out by the renewed murmuring of the crowd.

"It is strange, for it is said that few escape her nets," Gríma said, his eyes bright. "But perhaps she taught you a few things before releasing you into Rohan."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lori said, unable to keep the panic out of her voice.

A new voice cut through the noise. "Let me see it."

Lori spun around as Sárelle broke away from the gathering and moved to stand by her side.

Gríma's eyes narrowed, though he kept his tone even. "My lady, you have not been called forth—"

"I was born and raised in Gondor, and I know how to read Sindarin. Let me see the journal, so that I may determine whether they are elvish incantations or simply a healer's notes."

Sárelle's voice brooked no argument. Without waiting for a response, she climbed the steps of the dais and held out a hand. Reluctantly, Gríma handed her the book with an ill-disguised glare.

She scanned the page for a moment, then read aloud, "March twenty-fourth. Aldor has complaints of painful sores around his mouth. Prescribed an ointment of lemon balm. Follow up in four days."

They were reading her patients' notes to the public. Lori knew Sárelle was only doing this to help her, but it finally struck her just how unjust all of this was. She'd tried so hard to earn the trust of the people here, and Gríma had destroyed all of it in less than a day.

Sárelle read out a few more entries, then closed the book and turned to Gríma. "There is nothing in here that warrants suspicion. I have been under Lori's care myself, and I will vouch that she would never attempt to harm another person."

"As will I."

Lori turned around to see Dernhild step away from the crowd.

"And I." Éowyn joined her, glaring at Gríma as if she could set him on fire with her gaze alone.

A few more people stepped forward, adding their voices to those who had already spoken.

"Enough!" Gríma snapped. "I have not called for any further testimony. The facts are as they are, regardless of others' opinions."

Sárelle shot him one last contemptuous look, then descended the steps. As she passed Lori, she gave her a small, reassuring smile.

Lori wished she could have returned the gesture, but her throat was so tight it felt impossible to do anything except breathe.

"Your majesty?" Gríma turned to Théoden, bowing slightly at the waist. "What is the king's judgement in this matter?"

Théoden was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke. "I do not find there to be significant evidence that a poisoning occurred. Meduseld will retain its healer."

Lori thought she should have felt relieved. All she wanted to do was sink to her knees and cry.

Gríma straightened. "Then this trial is concluded."

He looked right at her, and there wasn't a trace of defeat on his face. Perhaps he had predicted this outcome. Perhaps this was only the beginning.

Lori was startled when someone put a hand on her shoulder. Éowyn guided her towards the side door at the back of the hall as the crowd began to disperse.

"You should rest today," she said softly. "You can resume your duties tomorrow. I will see how Guthwyn is doing when I am able."

"All right." Lori didn't have the energy to argue. It took everything she had just to keep her breathing even.

Sárelle and Dernhild joined them in the corridor.

"Gríma made a poor case back there," Sárelle said. "He's a liar and a thief, and everyone with any sense knows it. They know he was making baseless attacks on your character." She held out the notebook, and Lori clutched it with both hands.

"Would that someone would slip something into his drink next," Dernhild said, and Sárelle smacked her on the arm.

"Don't go saying things like that, unless you want to be the next one on trial."

"Thank you all for helping me," Lori said, hoping her voice didn't sound as stilted as it felt leaving her throat. She looked at Sárelle. "I don't know what would have happened if you hadn't stepped forward like that."

"I would do it again in a heartbeat." She lowered her voice a little. "And I will say, hypothetically, if Gríma were to have fallen down those steps, I'm not certain I would make any effort to help him up."

Dernhild smirked at that.

They made it to Lori's room, and the two women bid her farewell while Éowyn lingered by the door. Her face was set in a frown, and she spoke before Lori could ask her what was wrong.

"I owe you an apology. I told you I would find evidence to prove your innocence, but I could not uncover anything." She shook her head slightly. "Gríma was thorough in covering his tracks."

"Don't apologize," Lori said, concern taking precedence over the rest of her tangled emotions. "I never expected you to find something crucial." She realized how that sounded and tried to backtrack. "I mean, I don't blame you that you didn't find anything. Neither of us could have predicted what he was going to do."

Éowyn's expression hardened. "Gríma attacked you because you have been helping my uncle recover from his illness. I…I should have done something to protect you. You should not have spent last night imprisoned because you defied him."

"None of this was your fault." Lori took both her hands. "There was nothing you could have done, all right?"

Her words just seemed to be digging deeper into whatever wound Éowyn was carrying. She closed her eyes as if to gather her patience, then opened them.

"I will speak to Théodred when he returns. Something like this should never happen again." She squeezed Lori's hands and released them. "I will not keep you any longer. You should rest."

She swept past her down the corridor without another word. Lori retreated into her room, a cold shard of guilt lodging itself in her chest.

She was halfway to her bed when a sob escaped her, shocking her with its force. She curled up at the foot of the bed, uncaring of the mud staining her dress. Her hands were shaking, and she pressed them against her eyes, where tears were already flowing freely.

Everything was all right. Théoden had ruled in her favor, and her friends had been there to support her the entire way. Yes, she'd spent a night in jail, but no one had physically hurt her.

So why the fuck was she crying?

Gríma's vindictive stare flashed in her mind's eye, and Lori pressed her hands to her temples. He'd known that he would win even if she walked free because he'd seen her weakness. He'd known something like this would be enough to shake her.

And Lori was most furious at herself for letting it work. She wished she could tear off the parts of her that bruised so easily. She'd tried before, but there had always been more to cut away.

She kicked off her boots and brought her knees to her chest, shivering. Her hands and clothes were filthy, but she didn't have any willpower left to make it to the washroom and back.

She would clean herself up in the morning.

Had a lot of fun writing Grima's kangaroo court. (Been watching Better Call Saul and playing Danganronpa so I was on a roll with the trial.) I realized while writing the Rohan arc that there was no way Grima (and Saruman) would stand by if Theoden was starting to recover. Lori posed a real threat to their plans, which is why Grima went to such lengths to try and discredit/intimidate her.

I guess I would call this the sort of beginning of the end for Lori; things are going to get progressively darker (though there will be bright spots along the way). I promise this fic will have a happy ending, but this is when the buildup to the climax really begins.

Anyway, thank you so much for all the new favorites/follows! It's really encouraging to see people enjoying this story!