Warning for self-harm urges in this chapter.

Chapter 27

It took a few moments to realize someone was calling her name. Lori snapped out of her daze and turned towards the source of the voice.

Éowyn strode towards her, swiping a few strands of hair out of her face as a cold breeze swept across the yard.

"Sorry. I was lost in thought." She finished wrapping up the last of the fresh bandages she'd gathered from the laundresses. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," Éowyn replied, though she didn't sound totally convinced with her own response. "As well as it can be. Do you have a moment to speak?"

Lori nodded, hoping her flash of panic didn't reach her eyes. It had been a few days since the trial. Business had resumed as usual—she collected supplies and saw her patients. Guthwyn had made a full recovery from her illness. Despite all of that, Lori couldn't shake the feeling that she'd lost her credibility with the people of Edoras. She worried that she was going to make a mistake without knowing, and that the next knock on her door would be a reprimand (or another arrest). Even if reason told her Éowyn would never treat her harshly, it didn't stop her stomach from dropping.

"I have been thinking about what Gríma did, and why." Éowyn pressed her lips together, as if the ghost of her anger still haunted her. "I think you should stop treating my uncle."

Of all the things she'd been scared to hear, Lori had expected that one the least.

"What?"

"That is why he attacked you. His hold on the king was slipping, and he knew it was your doing."

Lori wrapped her arms around herself. "If we give up, that means Gríma wins." And more than that, it would mean abandoning Théoden.

"We will not give up." Éowyn drew in a sharp breath, and angry tears filled her eyes. "I will never surrender to the likes of Gríma Wormtongue. But I will not put you in harm's way for anyone's sake. Gríma knows he cannot do any real harm to me or my brother or Théodred, and so he sought to discredit you. I am afraid he will try again if we do not…"

Lori bit the inside of her lip, fighting back her own tears. She was scared, too. It was harder every day to look Gríma in the eyes while knowing how easily he could ruin her. Even if he was never able to prove any wrongdoing on her part, each accusation would discredit her a little more, heighten her fears until she was paralyzed.

The right thing to do would have been to insist on treating Théoden, to face whatever danger awaited her head-on.

She wasn't strong enough for the right thing.

"What now?" she asked quietly.

"If nothing is amiss, Théodred will return in a few days." Éowyn crossed her arms, staring out at the sandy-brown grass as if waiting for his éored to appear on the horizon. "Perhaps he will have some thought or angle that I have not considered yet."

"I'm sorry," Lori said.

Éowyn turned sharply towards her. "What for?"

She shook her head, suddenly at a loss for words. She didn't know how to apologize for her own shortcomings. There had been plenty of signs when she'd first arrived in Meduseld that working here had the potential for danger. Théodred had given her an out when he'd asked her to start treating his father, and she'd taken the risk anyway. She'd made promises that she was too much of a coward to keep.

Éowyn grasped her elbow, bringing her back to the present. "It is Gríma's fault. Not yours."

"I just wish…" She looked away. She hated seeing the anger and pain on Éowyn's face, hated knowing she couldn't do anything to fix it.

"I will not keep you from your work." Éowyn released her elbow. "If…If anything more happens with Gríma, you must tell me."

"I will," Lori said, her voice barely audible. And despite her misery, she was grateful for her friends.

Without them, she was sure she would have already crumbled under the weight of her fear.

There were days when Lori wanted to go back to the river.

The water would be freezing now; winter had begun its conquest over Edoras. Frost crawled up the windowpanes and the earth of her garden was cold and hard. A dip in the river would mean hypothermia, and that was speaking optimistically.

Lori couldn't stop daydreaming about it. She wanted something cold and sharp, something to shock her out of the dark thoughts digging into her mind. She wanted something deadly to purify her shame. She wanted it to hurt.

The silver band of the river had captured her attention as she stood outside the Golden Hall, but movement in the distance shifted her attention to the west. A company of riders was moving towards the city—Théodred's éored, finally returning from their long ride.

The sight was enough to stir something like hope within her, and she retreated into the hall to find Éowyn. She bumped into her in the corridor near the infirmary, and Éowyn immediately noticed the look on her face.

"Is something wrong?"

Lori shook her head. "Théodred is back. He's riding towards the city as we speak."

Éowyn perked up at that, and the two of them hurried back towards the front doors. When they stepped out into the cold, Éowyn nudged her arm.

"Will you fetch Hithui and Windfola?"

"All right." Lori decided to save her questions for later and made her way towards the stables.

Hithui snorted when Lori approached her stall, a puff of condensation escaping her nostrils.

"Sorry. I know it's been a while," Lori said quietly, reaching out to rub her neck.

She'd spent the days since the trial sequestered in the infirmary or her room, making her best effort to bury herself in her work. The time had slipped by without her noticing, and guilt stung her now that she realized how long she'd spent neglecting her horse.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, because Hithui would take her apologies without protest. "I-I'll come visit you more often. We'll take a quick walk right now, all right?"

By the time she had tacked up Hithui and Windfola and brought them to the courtyard, the éored had already arrived in the city. Most of the riders had dispersed to their homes, but a few were gathered in front of the Golden Hall.

Théodred dismounted and swept Éowyn into a one-armed hug. He looked weathered from the road, his beard slightly unkempt and windburn visible on his cheeks, but seemed otherwise unharmed. He noticed Lori approaching and waved to her with a grin.

For the first time in more than a week, she felt a genuine smile cross her lips.

"Will you ride out with us for a while?" Éowyn asked. "Just past the Barrowfield."

"Weeks in the saddle, and you'll not give me a moment to put my feet up?" Théodred shook his head, though there was no real exasperation in the gesture. "You conduct this hall with an iron fist, Éowyn."

"I do not expect it will take long." She shot him a meaningful look. "We need a place where we will not be overheard."

Théodred's expression sobered at that, and he nodded. "Let's go."

As they mounted and set off down the hill, Lori resisted the urge to look back. She was half-afraid she would see Gríma lurking in the doorway, watching them with his glinting eyes. It was hard not to feel his presence looming everywhere she went.

The grasses shone gray-gold in the dim sunlight, gently rustling along with the simbelmynë leaves on the Barrowfield. Théodred frowned at the scattered mounds for a moment before turning to Éowyn.

"Did something happen while I was away?"

Lori's throat grew tight, and she was grateful that Éowyn took the lead in recounting her arrest and subsequent trial. Théodred listened in silence as she spoke. Though he didn't show his anger as conspicuously as Éomer did, Lori noticed his grip gradually tighten on the reins.

When Éowyn finished her story, Théodred took a slow, calming breath before turning to Lori.

"You have been mistreated by my father's court, and for that I am sorry. Would that I had been there to resolve the situation before you could be harmed."

"I…" Lori shook her head, struggling for words. "It's not your fault. I-It came as a surprise to everyone."

"I come from a line of kings. Everything that transpires within Rohan's borders is my fault to a degree," Théodred replied with a wry smile. "Especially that which occurs within my household. I am sure one of the guards could be spared to ensure you are never manhandled like that again."

"No. No, that's all right." She shook her head again. The thought of having a bodyguard was just as humiliating as everything else that had taken place. "I don't know if Gríma will try something like that again."

"We have already given him what he wanted," Éowyn said bitterly. "He attacked Lori with the aim of stopping treatments on the king."

Again, guilt at her own weakness prodded her. She couldn't bring herself to meet Théodred's eyes.

"I think it is prudent to back down for now," Théodred said. "It is not worth risking either of you for the sake of defying Gríma."

"Then are we to do nothing?" Éowyn snapped.

Théodred's horse shifted, as if disturbed by the anger in her tone, and he rubbed a calming hand along its neck. "I believe we should take a moment to reconsider our plans. There may be some good in all of this."

Lori rubbed Hithui's reins between two fingers, unsettled by Éowyn's outburst. "If there's good news, I'd love to hear it."

"Until, now, Gríma has worked from the shadows. This trial was the first time he has made public accusations, and from what you have told me, he was not successful." He met Lori's eyes. "Your work has proven a genuine threat to him."

She nodded, holding her breath and dreading what he was about to ask of her.

"If we continue the way we have been, he will find another way to threaten Lori," Éowyn said.

"Then we will find a new strategy. Gríma went too far, making such blatant and insubstantial accusations. I believe it is time we find a way to remove him from the court." Théodred took a deep breath. "I cannot stay for long. Orcs have been putting pressure on our western border. When I return—"

"And what shall we do in the meantime?" Éowyn demanded. "While you are away defending our country, what shall we do to resist threats from within?"

"Nothing," Théodred said, his voice carrying the strain of one who wished he could speak reassuringly but could not. "And I know that is not an easy task to ask of you—"

"It is nearly impossible," Éowyn replied coldly, then turned Windfola around and set off back towards the city.

Lori watched her go, debating whether or not to chase after her. Even if her anger had been directed towards Théodred, perhaps she was upset with Lori, too.

"Hers is a thankless task," Théodred said, his voice laced with that same guilt Lori felt. "Éomer and I are hailed as heroes, yet she has done just as much to defend Rohan, and without an éored to stand beside her."

"I could…" Lori struggled to steady her voice. "Surely there's something we could do in the meantime."

She met his eyes. If you ask me to put myself in danger, I'll do it. It's the least I deserve.

"I won't ask you to risk yourself again," Théodred said. "You've done more than enough already."

She couldn't work up the courage to protest.

"Just look after Éowyn," he continued. "Your friendship is good for her. I worry when she grows angry like this."

"All right. I'll talk to her."

Théodred's expression softened. "Have faith, Lori. This winter will be a long one, but we will weather it."

She wanted so badly to believe him. She wanted to see what would be on the other side of the cold, cold days that stretched before them.

She just had to survive until then.

Lori stared out the infirmary window at the failing sunlight. It had been dark all day, thick clouds threatening a snowstorm and gusting winds stealing the warmth from the air.

It had been hours since someone had come to see her. Lori had tried to keep busy, organizing jars of herbs and cleaning, but it was more difficult than usual to keep herself distracted. She wanted to curl up in bed and just focus on her breathing.

Another half hour and she would leave for the night. Lori scratched at a dry patch of skin on her hand. She'd been scratching it for a while, she realized, and the skin was red and stinging.

Focus. She tore her gaze from the window and swept up a couple rags from her worktable. Both went into the small basket by the door.

Her last patient had grown irritable with her after she'd suggested a change in diet could help his stomach pain. That wasn't out of the ordinary—people grew impatient or annoyed all the time, especially when Lori gave more unorthodox advice. That had been nothing. It shouldn't have bothered her.

Lori paced the length of the room, nails dragging against her hand again. Today was bad. She was sick of the cold, sick of Gríma's loathsome face and the frown Éowyn wore when she thought no one was looking.

There was nothing she could do—nothing she was willing to do except feel sorry for herself. Her nails dug in deeper. Whatever it was under her skin, whatever was making these thoughts so ruthlessly constant, she wanted it out. She needed it out.

Her movement were near-automatic as she walked over to her worktable and withdrew the knife she used for cutting herbs. She wanted…

A shudder ran through her body. It was getting harder, a near-daily battle, to fight the urges. She wanted to see her own blood again, wanted the rush of biting pain. She fantasized about it at mealtimes, before bed, in the lonely hours of the morning.

Stop. She placed the knife back on the table. If I relapse, Gríma wins.

It was reasoning she'd used before, and it worked today. Lori reminded herself to take full breaths and collected her belongings. She needed something to distract herself. She considered going to the main hall to see if her friends were around, but pretending to be all right would take more energy than she had at the moment.

The hallway was empty. It stretched around her like the throat of some creature. She half-wished she would run into someone, but she didn't want to see any of the faces of the Rohirrim.

She wanted to see Aragorn. He'd always helped her before when her mind had begun to cave in on itself. He'd guided her every time she'd lost her way forward. The only time he hadn't been there had been Adela's cottage, when she'd walked out into the winter night and made the choice to leave…

An impulse decision seized her. Lori reached her room and traded her bag for her cloak.

I just need a walk. I need something to clear my head.

She stayed vigilant as she made for the doors, but made it outside without anyone seeing her. It was strange, the feeling that she was sneaking out. Sure, it was cold, but there was nothing illegal about taking a walk.

The wind bit into her as soon as she passed through the door. Lori wrapped her cloak around her and inhaled the cold air. It made her shiver, gave her something to focus on other than the crawling beneath her skin.

At the bottom of the stairway leading to Meduseld, she set off down the main street, the downward slope hastening her steps. Most of the townspeople were inside, comfortable by the firelight glow that illuminated their windows. As she passed the inn, she spotted a boy gather a bundle of firewood in his arms and dart back through the door. An older woman held the door for him and put a hand on his back as he passed through.

Lori imagined the sensation of a warm palm between her shoulder blades. A lump grew in her throat.

She wanted to feel the wind at its full force. The buildings of the city felt too close.

A pair of guards were standing by the front gate, shoulders hunched against the chill. One of them frowned as she drew near.

"What business do you have here?"

"I just need to take care of something," Lori said. "I won't be out long."

She genuinely didn't know what she would do if they denied her. Part of her wanted them to do it anyway.

The guard glanced at his companion, who shrugged one shoulder.

"Healer's business, I suppose."

He opened the gate just wide enough for her to slip through. It was dark outside the city, the grasses and sky swathed in deep shades of gray. The wind snatched at the hem of her cloak as Lori took the path past the Barrowfield. She wanted to scream into the void.

There was no sound left in her chest. Lori couldn't even bring herself to cry. Everything that was wrong inside her would need to be torn out, piece by piece.

She looked up, eyes straining through the darkness for the silver band of the river. It would be a long walk, but she could make it.

A handful of snowflakes pattered against her shoulder.

Part of her knew that she was slipping, that she wasn't supposed to be out here. It scared her, but she also knew she was doing this for a reason. She was pulling rationality from irrationality, because nothing else in her mind made sense anymore.

I just need…

The snowfall was growing thicker, heavy flakes clinging to her cloak, her cheeks, her hair.

I need to find a way out of this.

The wind snatched her hood down, and she couldn't bring herself to pull it back up. She fought against the deranged urge to undo the clasp and let the gales drag it away altogether.

Her first day in the snow, the first day after she had died, Aragorn had saved her life. He'd given her a real second chance.

A burning sensation seared the back of her throat.

He's not here. He's not here.

She didn't register the pounding of hoofbeats until they were nearly on top of her.

"Lori!"

She started and whirled around. Éomer was there, astride Firefoot, staring down at her with a mix of apprehension and confusion. As if she were a ghost. The lit torch in his hand sputtered against the snowflakes and howling wind.

"What possessed you to walk out in the middle of a snowstorm?"

She didn't have an answer. The light from the torch was a shock to her senses. In the distance, nearly obscured by the whirling snow, the lights of Edoras glimmered. She hadn't even realized how far she'd come.

"I…" Her lips and cheeks were numb. The snow was halfway up to her knees, the footprints she'd left already fading.

Impatiently, Éomer lowered a hand, and she grasped it with stiff fingers. He pulled her up onto the saddle behind him, and she had to grab onto him as he wheeled about on his horse and started back towards the city.

By the time they passed through the gates, she was shivering. Éomer's muscles were tense, and she dreaded the moment she would have to look him in the face. She wished she hadn't done this in the first place. Part of her just wished that Éomer hadn't caught her.

Éowyn was waiting for them on the front steps of Meduseld, wrapped in a thick wool shawl. The shame in Lori's gut burrowed deeper. She slid off the horse, wobbling a little on the landing, and Éowyn rushed forward and swept her into a hug.

"You had us worried sick." She pulled back and looked her over, cupping her cheeks with both hands. "How long were you out there?"

"I don't know." The skin of Éowyn's hands felt impossibly warm on her face. She felt far away from everything, insulated by a layer of something colder and more impenetrable than snow.

"Come inside. You're freezing." Éowyn took her by the hand and pulled her through the front doors.

The heat inside the hall was oppressive, and it just made her shiver harder. Her fingers and ears were beginning to ache. She let Éowyn guide her to the bench beside the hearth and sat down. A droplet of melted snow trickled onto her cheek.

"What happened?" Éowyn sat beside her, searching her face. "One of the guards said you walked out the front gate, but he could not tell me why." Her grip on Lori's hand tightened. "Did…someone compel you to do this?"

She didn't have to say a name for Lori to understand who she meant. Lori closed her eyes, feeling impossibly exhausted. It was only natural to assume that no one would willingly walk into a snowstorm, not unless someone had a dagger to their back. No sane person would have done what she'd done.

"I…" Her voice cracked, and she realized her throat was dry.

"I'll find you some water." Éowyn left her side briefly and returned with a wooden cup. Lori drank slowly, the liquid warm on her lips and cool as it slid down her throat.

The front doors opened again as Éomer entered. He made his way towards them, bits of snow falling from his boots with each step. His face was set in a frown, though it seemed to be one of concern as he stopped by the hearth and crossed his arms.

"Well?"

Éowyn turned to Lori and waited for her answer.

She closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Her mind felt muddled, letting thoughts disintegrate before they could coalesce into something comprehensible. The longer the silence dragged out, the more afraid she was to face the others.

"Lori?" Éowyn prompted quietly.

"I'm sorry. I haven't been sleeping well." With that admission, the words began to flow more easily. "This isn't the first time I've done this. Back when I lived in the north, I went out one night in the middle of winter to try and clear my head. I…I felt like I was at a crossroads, and being out there helped me find some clarity."

She risked a glance at Éowyn, and was relieved to find that some of the confusion had left her expression.

Éomer didn't sound quite so understanding. "I do not know what the winters are like in the north, but walking alone in a snowstorm in Rohan could very well mean death. You were lucky you weren't out there much longer than you were."

"I'm sorry," Lori said, almost instinctively. "What I did was stupid. Thank you for…for bringing me back."

He nodded gruffly, his expression softening a fraction.

"It's late. You should get changed and rest." Éowyn grasped her arm, gently prompting her to stand. Lori didn't miss the concerned glance she shot Éomer before leading her away.

"I'm sorry," Lori said again, because she didn't know how else to fix things.

Éowyn didn't speak until they'd reached the door to Lori's room.

"Whatever it is… Whatever happened tonight, I hope you know you can tell me."

There was a small plea in Éowyn's gaze, the same feeling of helplessness that was currently trying to drown her. Lori swallowed and found a lump in her throat.

What do you want to hear? That I'm losing my mind just like your uncle?

Her right hand tightened into a fist, nails biting into her skin. She needed to pull herself back together. She was not going to have Éowyn look at her like that.

"I did something stupid tonight," she said. "That's all. I'm sorry I worried you."

She couldn't tell if Éowyn believed her or not. Her lips tightened, and she nodded.

"All right. I'll see you tomorrow."

I really enjoy writing Lori and Eowyn as foils for each other, especially in this chapter. They're both stuck in a situation where they're essentially powerless against Grima, but where Lori turns that anger and frustration inward at herself, Eowyn expresses it more outwardly at the people/circumstances that have caused her to be powerless.

Thank you so much for all the new favorites/follows/reviews! I appreciate it more than you know!