Chapter 33

The morning passed in a sluggish haze. The reality of their situation seemed to have sunk in overnight, and fear hung thick between the refugees as they packed up and began the second day of their journey.

Lori and her friends rode near the front of the procession with Aragorn and his companions, and it wasn't long before Éowyn was deep in conversation with Aragorn. The sight warmed her heart. She'd been somewhat nervous about the two people she cared for so much finally meeting each other, but they seemed to get along well.

She was still drowsy after a night of poor sleep, and spent most of the morning in a half-doze before a pair of voices pulled her back into the waking world.

"See, a good war ram is swift over land and capable of scaling near-vertical cliffs. You couldn't ask for a better mount in the heat of battle," Gimli was saying.

"I have seen your war rams in combat, and I doubt they could match the speed of the Rohirrim's steeds," Legolas replied. "And this does not take into account the speed of the Mearas."

Gimli waved a hand. "Aye, but we're not talking about these so-called magical horses. Besides, a horse with a broken leg is as good as dead."

"And I suppose your war rams have legs forged from steel?"

Lori stifled a laugh, and they both glanced back at her. She hadn't found the question humorous so much as the fact that they sounded so much like Sárelle and Dernhild's own bickering with each other.

"Oi, lass." Gimli beckoned her forward, and she nudged Hithui forward to ride beside them. "You're one of the Rohirrim. Which mount would you find more advantageous?"

"I, um, don't know much about mounted combat," she said. "My speciality is more in medicine."

"Ah, then perhaps you can enlighten my elf friend on the benefits of pipeweed."

She frowned. It had bothered her when she'd first learned Aragorn had a habit of smoking, though he'd assured her no one had ever gotten sick from pipeweed. She still wasn't fully convinced, but she couldn't do much more than provide her opinion as a healer.

"I can't say for sure that there are any benefits," she replied.

Legolas smirked. "A fine candidate you've chosen to confirm your opinions."

"Typical of a cold-hearted elf! I wasn't looking for a testimonial, but a friendly conversation." Gimli turned to her. "So?"

She floundered for a moment. Gimli seemed kind, but he was intense, to say the least. "Um, how did you two meet?"

"In Rivendell, if you can believe it," Gimli said, then leaned in conspiratorially. "Now, I'm not particularly fond of these elven realms, but there was a particularly important matter at hand. Lord Elrond held a council—"

"In which sensitive information was discussed," Legolas said.

"Aye, well, the details aren't important. But there was one particularly rude elf—"

"I recall you were the first one to resort to insults."

"As I said, the details aren't important. As it was, I was quite displeased to learn this elf would be joining our company."

"Not so displeased that you did not offer your services after I did."

"Oi!" Gimli thumped Legolas on the arm hard enough that Lori winced, though Legolas seemed unfazed. "Are you going to let me finish my tale, or shall I expect to be interrupted all the way to Helm's Deep?"

"I am merely providing my perspective of this story," Legolas said. "Though if you wish me to be silent, you need only ask."

Lori raised an eyebrow, wondering if the two had simply forgotten she was there. "So if you two weren't fond of each other when you first met, what made you change your mind?"

"Gimli demonstrated usual open-mindedness for a dwarf," Legolas said, causing Gimli to grumble under his breath. "He expressed a willingness to learn about elven realms and customs, and I would say he has become more enlightened for it."

"Yes, well, I expect to see the same open-mindedness from you the day I introduce you to a realm of my own people."

"I have already seen one, or have you already forgotten?"

"A realm that is not in ruins! Do you have leaves stuffed in those pointy ears of yours?"

Lori disguised another laugh with a cough. She would have to ask Aragorn how he'd been dealing with the two of them so far. She couldn't imagine what they'd been like when they genuinely disliked each other.

As if he'd read her mind, Gimli turned to her and said, "I regret to say Aragorn had little to do with our eventual reconciliation. Not much of a peacekeeper, for a future king."

Lori laughed. "What do you mean?"

She raised her eyebrows at Gimli, expecting him to explain the joke, but he only blinked at her.

"You mean to say he hasn't told you?" he asked.

Her smile wavered. "Told me what?"

"Typical dwarvish tact," Legolas said as Gimli began to stammer.

"Um…" Lori scratched the back of her head. "I feel like I'm missing something, here."

"You'd best ask him yourself, lass," Gimli said before becoming intensely focused with pulling a stray bit of grass out of his beard.

She looked to Legolas for a less evasive answer, but he only stared ahead serenely, as if the conversation had never happened at all.

Future king. She blinked. That had to be some sort of joke or cultural misunderstanding. She couldn't fathom what else it would mean.

Her gaze flickered to the front of the line, where Aragorn was speaking with Théoden. She recalled Théoden's terse words a couple nights before.

When last I looked, Théoden, not Aragorn, was King of Rohan.

She hadn't noticed it then, but there had been a certain weight to his words, as if they carried more significance than a simple dismissal.

Lori suppressed a sigh and let Legolas and Gimli's resumed bickering fade into the background. Aragorn had always been honest with her, at least about the things that wouldn't put her in danger. She just had to ask him what Gimli had meant.

She wished the thought didn't scare her as much as it did.

The night was cool, not cold, the air finally promising the arrival of spring. Lori wrapped her cloak around her shoulders, enticed by the warmth of the tent she shared with the others, but a lone figure by the tree line made her pause. Even in the dim light from the moon, she recognized Aragorn, illuminated by the glow of the burning embers in his pipe.

She took in a steadying breath. It was too dark to tell whether he'd seen her or not, but she couldn't keep hiding from him, especially after the strange conversation she'd had with Legolas and Gimli.

Arranging her features into what she hoped was a calm expression, she made her way over to him.

"Did you want some company?"

He nodded and gestured beside him, and she took a seat as painlessly as she could manage. Her eyes fell to the sparkling gemstone just beneath his collar. It stood out from the rest of his weathered clothing, but she hadn't had the chance to ask about it yet.

"That's Arwen's pendant, right?"

"It is." He took his pipe out of his mouth and rested his forearm over one knee. "She gave it to me before I left Rivendell."

"How is she?"

"She is well." A small smile lifted his lips. "For her it has not been long at all since you departed from Rivendell."

"Oh, right." She rubbed her hands over her knees. "Well, it's good that she's doing well. A lot can happen in two years. Even for elves."

A moment of silence passed before Aragorn asked, "Is something on your mind?"

There was a lurching sensation in her stomach, like the moment before a dive. She forced herself to speak.

"Gimli said something strange earlier today."

"You will find that somewhat common when it comes to Gimli."

Lori tried to smile at the comment, but even that couldn't override the nerves that fluttered in her stomach. She spent a moment trying to find a way to ease into the topic, but she couldn't think of anything that wouldn't come out clumsy or accusatory. When Aragorn sent her a questioning glance, she finally forced herself to speak.

"He mentioned that you're a…king, or that you were going to be, or something. I don't know what that means, but I thought…" She trailed off as he looked away, staring out at the clustered tents and makeshift shelters. Desperate to break the silence, she added, "I-If it's something private, then I won't press you."

Aragorn shook his head. "Gimli did not betray my trust by mentioning it to you. It was only very recently that I decided to make the truth known to others." He turned to meet her gaze. "What do you know of the Heirs of Isildur?"

"Um…" Lori had a sinking feeling that she knew where this was going. It gave her the deranged urge to laugh, but she tried to keep a straight face and answer his question in earnest. "Isildur was the last king of Gondor, and he died without any—well, I guess he must've had children if he has heirs…"

"Isildur was king of Gondor for a time, but he was succeeded by the son of his brother Anárion," Aragorn said, saving her from struggling to recall her last history lesson in Rivendell. "Isildur's own sons ruled Arnor in the north until its destruction. After the kingdom fell, his line survived, and his descendants became chieftains of the Rangers."

"Oh." Lori nodded slowly. "So you're saying you would be king of Arnor if it still existed." That wasn't as much of a bombshell as she'd been expecting.

Aragorn hesitated for a moment, then said quietly, "Arnor and Gondor. Anárion's line ended centuries ago, and Gondor has been ruled by stewards ever since."

"Oh," Lori repeated, searching his face. There was a weight there, on the line of his brow, as he spoke. The knowledge he'd given her was dangerous, something he'd kept hidden all these years.

She thought back to the cairn in the snow, hidden in the forest where Aragorn had first found her. The man whose memory lay in those stones had been killed because of his lineage—because of the bloodline he shared with Aragorn.

"So there are people who would try to kill you if they knew who you were," she said softly.

He nodded. "A reunited kingdom would bring a new order to Middle-earth. And it would prove a threat to Sauron's forces."

She sat back and ran it all through her mind again. She was sitting next to an heir. A great hope to some and a danger to others. She'd always known he carried a greater burden than most people, but this was far bigger than she'd ever expected.

"I know this must change the way you think of me."

Lori shook her head. "It doesn't." But that wasn't the full truth, and they both knew it. "I still see you as the same man I've always known. This just means…" She made a vague gesture. "Everything else will be different."

"I will be different as well," Aragorn said. "I will have to accept a part of myself that I have hidden for many years."

There was the tiniest tension in his jaw as he spoke. As if he was waiting for some kind of rejection. As if something like this would ever make her care about him less.

"You're a good man," she said. "And…And you've always been good to me. I don't think that will change, no matter what title you have."

"Thank you, Lori." He reached over and squeezed her shoulder, and she smiled.

"So, are you planning on…" She searched for the right word. Was there an application one would fill out to request kingship of a nation? Some sort of ritual? An exam?

"There are more urgent matters to focus on," Aragorn said. "We cannot ignore Saruman's threats to Rohan or the war in the east. But when the time is right, I will step forward to claim the throne."

"All right." The thought was so absurd she almost didn't want to believe it at all. But it was Aragorn. It was the truth. And she couldn't think of anyone better suited to being a leader than him.

"Lori, there is something I wish to discuss with you as well."

Her heart dropped at the gravity in his tone, and she nodded.

"I am worried about you."

She sighed. In any other scenario, she would have been irritated, would have insisted he drop the issue for good. But she couldn't conjure any real anger in her. All she could feel instead was fear.

"You really don't have to worry about me." She forced herself to meet his eyes. "I'm doing all right. I haven't been sleeping well, but I can still focus. If anyone needs me, I can still work—"

"That is not my concern." Aragorn was looking at her with confusion as well as worry. "I do not doubt your ability as a healer. Yet I can see that these recent events have caused you some pain, and I do not want you to carry that alone."

She stared at him. She wished she could be angry. She wished any defensiveness on her part wouldn't bring tears along with it.

She wished she could just speak freely for once.

A little bit of the truth wouldn't hurt. It made more sense than continuing to lie.

"I wish things had been different with Théodred," she said carefully, testing each word as if it would prove to be a pitfall. Already, her throat was burning. "I wish I could have saved his life." Her voice cracked, and she bit down hard on her lip.

"You were in charge of his care after he was wounded?" Aragorn asked, and she nodded. He moved closer and put a comforting hand on her back. "Not all wounds can be healed. Even Elrond has lost patients before, as have I. There was no failure on your part, and I am sorry you were forced to carry so great a burden."

A few tears slipped down her cheeks, and she quickly wiped them away. There was a lesson to be learned in all this—that life was just unfair. That it took from people who didn't deserve it. That Théodred could die while Gríma still lived.

"I understand." She sniffled and dried her eyes with her sleeve. She just had to breathe, and she could make it through this conversation without breaking down completely.

"You're not alone," Aragorn continued. "You know I will come to your aid whenever you need it."

Her chest tightened all over again, this time with gratitude. She blinked her tears away and finally looked him in the eye. "I appreciate that."

His eyes were full of kindness. It hurt more than she'd anticipated, seeing that look in his eyes and realizing it wouldn't turn into disapproval or disgust. The pressure in between her lungs made it hard to breathe.

With a sigh, Lori looked away and dragged a thumb under both eyelids. She needed to be alone, needed to be somewhere quiet.

"I should get some rest. We'll reach Helm's Deep tomorrow, right?"

"If everything goes as planned." Aragorn took his hand from her back and she struggled to her feet.

"See you tomorrow, then." She turned and offered him a tentative smile.

"Lori." He caught her eye. "Thank you for trusting me."

She nodded and headed back to the campsite. He understood, at least partially, how scared she'd been to offer that one fragment of information. He'd listened and comforted her, and in the end hadn't told her to pull herself together.

Perhaps one day, when all of this was over, she would try and share more with him.

Their path took them closer to the White Mountains, which seemed impossibly tall up close. Gray, rocky slopes patched with coarse brush loomed to their left and spilled out into the grassy plains to their right. Gimli was eager to point out the various types of stone visible in the rock face and their purposes for construction and smithing.

"Do you usually tune them out?" Lori asked Aragorn as Gimli and Legolas began to argue about the best class of weaponry.

"When I can manage it," Aragorn said with a smile. "Thus far I have avoided being drawn in as a mediator for their debates."

He was walking beside his own horse, Hasufel, while Lori stayed mounted on Hithui. She felt bad about not giving her more of a break, but they were in the foothills now, and walking uphill was more than she could handle with her wounds.

"I can relate," Lori said. "A couple of my friends tend to argue like that. They do it for fun, I think, but it can be a bit much at times."

"I am sure they are good people nonetheless." He glanced up at her. "I am glad you've found a friend in Lady Éowyn."

"So am I. It's been nice, spending time with a group of women my age." It was one of the best things to come out of her migration to Rohan, something she knew she would never regret.

Even so, her thoughts strayed back to the north, to everything she had left behind. Perhaps Aragorn had some news about Faeron, how he had fared these past two years. She was afraid to ask, afraid of the emotions she risked unburying by speaking the words aloud, but her anxiety wasn't quite as strong after she'd opened up to him last night.

Lori took a deep breath. "Have you—"

A cry went up from the other side of the hill before them—a scream of pain, followed by the clash of metal against metal. Lori stiffened, anxiety lurching from her stomach to her throat. The king often sent scouts a few miles ahead of the procession, but they'd always returned unharmed.

Before the noise had finished echoing off the mountainside, Aragorn was off like a shot. His long legs carried him to the apex of the slope where Legolas was already standing, an arrow nocked in his bow.

Théoden's white horse carried him to the front of the line, where he called out, "What is it? What do you see?"

"Wargs!" Aragorn cried, racing back towards them. "We're under attack!"

Small screams rose from the procession, and the whole crowd rippled uncertainly, threatening to scatter.

Wargs. Lori wished things like this wouldn't surprise her anymore. She knew the creatures were real—many of the riders had seen them with their own eyes—but it had been far easier to believe on some level that they were only part of a fairytale.

A howl rose from the hills, and her blood chilled. There was no denying a sound like that. She could do nothing to curb the terror threatening to lock her limbs in place.

Aragorn had reached his horse, and she could only watch helplessly as he mounted in one swift movement.

"All riders to the head of the column!" Théoden shouted as he drew his sword.

Gripping Hithui's reins so tight her fingers ached, Lori looked over at Aragorn, trying in vain to find the right words to convey what she wanted to say. He met her eyes, and there was reassurance in his gaze, despite the anxiety they were all feeling at the moment.

There was only time for that one look before he turned and spurred his horse to join the rest of the riders.

Fighting against the urge to chase after him, Lori guided Hithui towards the rest of the refugees. Éowyn was on foot, urging them along as her long blonde hair streamed behind her.

"Stay together! We head north!"

Women held tightly to their children and to each other, steadying their footsteps across the thick grass. Éowyn's voice had pulled them into a tighter knot as they moved away from the growing sounds of battle.

Against her better judgement, Lori looked back at the chaos. Most of the combatants were concealed on the other side of the hill, but she could hear screams, human and inhuman, rise along with the clash of steel. She knew the smell of blood would follow shortly.

A four-legged creature crested the hill. She might have called it a wolf, but it was nearly as large as a horse, and its fur was matted and ragged. Astride its back was a stout figure with jagged armor and a large machete.

The creature let out a chilling snarl and took off down the slope. Fear sent a painful jolt down Lori's spine, even as she stayed frozen. None of the women had weapons. That thing would tear through them like paper.

A rider came into sight and spurred his horse onward with a cry. He bore down on their attacker, raising the spear in his grip, and the metal tip sank into the back of the beast's neck. It stumbled and skidded to a halt a stone's throw from where Lori was frozen.

It was this that finally prompted her to move, and she turned to face the other refugees. Most of them had continued to flee away from the hill, but Éowyn had also stopped to watch the confrontation. She was gripping the handle of her sword, a wild look in her eyes that Lori had never seen before.

The terror building within her finally set her loose like an arrow from a bow. Lori dug her heels into Hithui's sides, and she responded immediately, leaping into a gallop that bordered on frantic. Lori stifled a cry as pain shot through her legs.

"Slow down," she gasped, fighting to keep her balance in the saddle. "We'll be all right. W-We have to stay with the others."

It wasn't clear whether or not Hithui understood her, but it was only when Lori pulled hard on the reins that she finally began to slow. Breathing hard, Lori glanced around. Everyone was managing to stay in a relatively cohesive group, and Éowyn was astride Windfola now, guiding them all forward. There was no sign of the battle taking place on the other side of the hill.

Even riding at a gentle trot was agony. Lori clenched her fists until her palms stung, fighting the urge to pull back on the reins and ask Hithui to stop altogether. She just had to endure however long it would take to reach Helm's Deep and hope that the wargs would not catch up with their party—and that the riders would rejoin them soon.

Lori squeezed her eyes shut. She could smell blood, and she didn't know if it was real or imagined. She would hope for wounded men, because wounds could be mended. The wounded still survived.

That's not always true, she reminded herself, thinking back to Théodred's lifeless body. Tears sprang to her eyes again. If Aragorn returned with a wound like that, she would be forced to watch his life slip through her fingers, knowing she was just as helpless as she'd been back in Edoras.

I can't do this. I can't do this again. The ringing in her ears nearly drowned out every other sound, but she could feel her chest moving with panicked breaths. She pressed down on her thigh, and the pain brought her back from the brink. She wanted more, and she hated herself for it.

When Helm's Deep finally came into sight, it wasn't nearly close enough. A long, flat stretch of grass stood between the ridge Hithui had climbed and the gorge in the distant mountain range. Between two brown slopes was a stone fortress marked by a long outer wall and a high, angular tower.

Murmurs of relief rose from the crowd of refugees. Most of them had slowed to a walk, exhausted by the long journey. There had been no sign of pursuit from behind them, but their anxiety remained as the group made the final push towards Helm's Deep.

Lori braced herself as Hithui began moving down the slope. When they reached the fortress, she would have a moment to rest and check her bandages.

And then she would wait for Aragorn.

And everything was fine the end :) But seriously, things are going to get rough for Lori in the next few chapters, I'll put applicable trigger warnings where they're needed. Things will eventually get a bit lighter but we have a ways to go before then.

Also for anyone wondering, I'm probably not going to include any of the Eowyn/Aragorn stuff. It would be pretty uncool for Eowyn to start making moves on her best friend's father (figure) and she's definitely not the kind of person to do that.